It was time to escape, or at least, to break free from this fucking cage. Desperation, anger, feelings of nothingness fluctuated in my mind, making me too in quite unstable mentally.
As one moment I might be fully focused on escape, and soon, just sit down, stare at the wall, and be silent, feeling like nothing, feeling like an empty shell with nothing.
Bran watched me intently as I explained my plan: a simple one, according to my notes. I had listened, watched, guards, their talks, my memory served me well, and things added up in my mind.
We had now chance, as there were sick guards, and they had to get temps, moreover doctor was called to go to one of his other facilities, as Sark had put some pressure on, so he was not here, nor his subordinates. There were no rounds today or a few days.
Today's shift included five new guards, inexperienced and easily manipulated. My strategy was straightforward: I would feign illness—convulsions, pain—luring them close enough to act. My darkness was unleashed, but Bran, not part of the hive, remained unaffected and uninterested.
"It's good that it boosts you," he said, "but your darkness isn't good for me. I'm an old creature, and if it compromised my already fragile sanity, I might just walk away, forget you, and go kill some ancient enemy I haven't thought of in years. So no, thank you. I can hobble along. Your blood helps, though—it gives me quite a high, even though you're so doped up you don't feel it. I do, just from your blood."
His calm expression masked his weakness, just as mine did. I wasn't feeling strong; I had been raped by seven men for hours just a few hours ago, remaining awake the entire time. The dryness of my bruised pussy didn't deter them. I refused to dwell on the sensation—the penetration, the cum, the feeling of it inside me—like a cancer, a sickness.
The doctor had placed a stent on my cervix, opening it so everything flooded in. Warm moisture pooling inside made me feel so damn dirty. I pushed it away, hiding it so it wouldn't affect me.
Mariella had been dissected and tortured, leaving her freaking weakened; the wolves were beaten, starved, drugged, muzzled, and chained to the wall. Elena and Katherine had also been raped and bled, leaving them severely weakened. As vampires, the lack of blood, combined with the drugs, had disrupted their bloodlust, leaving them in disarray.
We were at our breaking point, and this escape attempt had to happen now, or it might never happen at all. This was one damn nasty place to be, yet I knew that one day, revenge would be mine.
I would make sure of it, and that damn doctor, as well as several guards, would end up in my little torture sheds, to be killed slowly, painfully by me and me alone.
But I had no idea that upstairs, other guys were watching over me besides Jake or Rob, and for them, revenge was not best for me. They had their own plans for me.
I said to Bran, "I'll try compulsion; it might buy us time, since the doctor's out and we only have these new guards. When they get close, I'll try to compel them. You're too weak to compel even a mouse right now, but I might have enough power. Though I'm so disconnected from my abilities, it's hard to sense them, even though I feel them within me. It's hard to explain."
He nodded. "I'll take orders from you in this situation. Let's hope for the best and be prepared if it fails. God knows this has been too rough even for you, little girl and I am not sure how you ever going to heal, I know it will take for me long time, ironically, considering all of shit I have done to you and others over the years, yet you once gave me greatest gift, my love for my one soulmate. Charles's mother, as that wizard disconnected it, I guess that love would have weakened him too, or it as I feel it, like it was a creature, not a person."
I took a breath, nodded briefly to Katherine and Elena, who were watching, signaling it was almost time. I had gotten told them my plan through our mental link even it had been wickedly hard and connection had been so damn weak.
Lying near Bran's feet, I convulsed convincingly as guards approached. Bran, a surprisingly decent actor when needed, shouted, "Please help! She's convulsing! Do something!"
The guards approached hesitantly.
One said to the other, "What's the protocol for seizures? I think we covered it, but there were exceptions."
Bran, urging them on, pleaded, "Please, do something! Look, she's about to break her spine! Your boss won't be happy if one of his rare specimens dies while he's away!"
They had no idea I'd been revived; they were new and afraid of Von Herringberg—"Dr. Death," as they called him.
The shorter guard said, "The boss said not to bother him, so protocol states: autoinjector of midazolam. Let's get it and write it up; hopefully, it'll work."
The guards moved toward the cabinets in the north of the room. Meanwhile, several other women were distracting the guards, drugged to the point of desperation.
Mariella was grunting; she was almost feral, Katherine feeding her anger and irritation through the hive mind, preventing her from succumbing to despair—that would come later.
As the footsteps faded, I summoned every ounce of strength—even my messed-up, pained vampire side—needing this to work. I continued my convincing act, my convulsing taxing my strength.
It was imperative to act quickly. Footsteps approached, and I tensed, my eyes half-open, hearing the door creak open.
A guard warned Bran, "Don't be a hero. We'll follow protocol, and if that fails, we'll reassess."
I felt a guard crouch beside me, urging Bran to stay still as he searched for a vein to inject.
My eyes snapped open. In a low tone, I commanded, "Calm down. Stay put."
I looked at both guards, repeating my mantra until they stood motionless, their expressions blank, awaiting further instructions.
"Stay where you are," I repeated. "Nothing is wrong. Everything is fine."
I rose; Bran, already standing on unsteady legs, took the guards' keys and began opening the other cages. The plan could proceed, but perfection was paramount. I stood near the guards, using my vampire abilities to keep them calm, making small incisions in their wrists and subtly drawing a little blood—a minor detoxification for myself.
Bran had opened the doors, and Katherine was already executing my plan. A large cage held miscellaneous subjects without individual cells. Katherine was systematically replacing us with them.
Mariella stood for the first time in months, aided by Mimosa in wolf form. She was crouched over like some humpback of Notre Dame, and I knew her recovery would be brutal too. Mimosa's wolf form was tall enough for her to give decent support.
Elena guided the other girls into our cages, compelling their obedience. They possessed the power to easily control simple humans, but these guards required a different approach; their training made them resistant to vampire compulsion.
After replacing ourselves with the miscellaneous subjects, it was time to proceed and give the guards their next instructions. I felt a surge of frustrated anger; I yearned to kill them, but our escape required subtlety, not a violent massacre.
I had foreseen this in a dream—a premonition, perhaps, or advice from the boys. Jake, especially, had been strict in my vision, just as he used to be.
My voice, low, hypnotic, and calm, addressed the guards: "Everything is fine. We are still in our cages; we never left. There were no convulsions; everything is proceeding as planned. If anyone tells you otherwise, attack them—hard, brutally, and dirty. Remember, we are in our cages. Attack anyone who says otherwise."
The guards nodded, blinked, and walked away, their attention diverted to sports and other trivialities. I smiled darkly as we moved deeper into the facility, buying time, though I had no idea how to escape.
My amusement stemmed from the thought of Von Herringberg's return: finding imposters in our cages claiming to be us, provoking the guards' attack. Oh, to witness it! But our freaking escape was paramount, far more fucking important than personal enjoyment.
The dark hallways offered no signs, pointers, or clues to the exit. It seemed we would need to map our way out, a process that might take some time. We proceeded slowly; some, like Mariella, struggled to walk. Mimosa was too weak to carry her, forcing Mariella to hobble along.
We paused frequently to ensure our safety. Bran, too, tried to make sense of our surroundings, but being trapped in an old mine shaft—one that could stretch for miles—was hardly ideal for escape.
Again, I projected an air of strength I didn't feel, shouldering the burden of leadership as everyone looked to me for our salvation. This role, this destiny—saviour, escape artist, was a burden, yet my responsibility as alpha female, hive queen, demanded it. Nothing less would suffice.
The lingering effects of the tiny amount of human blood made me nauseous, threatening to undo me with a wave of vomiting. This added another layer of difficulty to our escape. But perhaps, once the toxins cleared, I'd feel better. One could always hope. Our footsteps were soft; I could almost feel the weight of the tons of stone above us.
I had no idea where to go, only forward, hoping to find a kitchen, a resting space, or any indication of an exit. There was no way to tell the time, and I had no idea how long we had been running.
My ever-increasing weakness, dwindling strength, and our labored breaths echoed in the corridor. My darkness had receded for now—there was no victim, and I could feel the staples and stitches in my stomach and chest, irritating but necessary.
It seemed like hours before I first heard voices—not ideal, but perhaps we were heading in the right direction. Leaning against the wall, I mustered my remaining vampire power, preparing to compel a few more idiots, but Katherine stopped me.
"Let me," she said. "I'm millennia old; I still have some oomph. You look like you're running on fumes, so save it."
A wave of dizziness hit me—low blood sugar and lack of caffeine—but if there was a common room, perhaps they'd have coffee. Katherine crept forward, and it was strange—I wasn't the one doing it, but it wasn't unpleasant. Perhaps that was because I was in such bad shape, but it was also a new lesson for me: that I wasn't always the strongest, that even supercreatures reach their limits.
Knowing this was far from over, I needed to conserve my strength as much as possible. Katherine might not have much oomph either—she'd had very little blood—but as Wulfe had explained, ancient beings could survive a long time on little blood without becoming weak.
However, Katherine was pale, thin, and clearly in pain. I hoped we'd find a small hiding place for a few moments before continuing, because I wasn't sure how long any of us could go on without decent rest.
Katherine returned, licking her lips, which were now redder. "He lives, but remembers nothing," she said. "I have now idea how to get out, he gave me directions. We are way underground, so we have to first find elevators and then leave, but we should take a break. There are staff quarters nearby, and not many are working, so there's room. Maybe even a first-aid kit, or at least coffee; I can smell it."
I nodded. "Lead the way," I said. "Let's find somewhere to regain our strength, then we'll leave and find the nearest hospital or clinic."
She nodded, helping Mariella walk. Mariella was sweaty, pale, and her legs trembled as she shuffled forward. The wolves were unsteady on their feet as well, and I planned to have them shift into human form—easier to treat once we were out of here.
After what felt like miles, we finally reached a corridor lined with doors. Katherine opened a few before choosing one that was dark and showed no signs of recent use. We hobbled inside. It contained beds, like a fire station's bunking quarters. I helped Mariella and Bran into beds while Katherine made coffee.
Turning to the wolves, I said, "Take human form. No spell; just do it. This isn't a negotiation. Take human form and stay in it."
They huffed and snorted but had no choice but to transform. Mimosa said quietly, "Please, it's easier to be an animal. Let me stay in my true form."
I shook my head, guiding her and Shadow into beds. "Soon we'll have coffee and rest," I said. "No one will come here, and we're safe for now."
Elena had found some crackers and meat. I examined the packages; not ideal for me, but not harmful, so I might get something out of them, assuming my intestinal tract was functioning.
Bran looked at me and said quietly, "Little girl, come and sit down. You need rest too. You're no use to us if you faint."
I smiled wearily. "I'm fine," I said. "Soon we'll have coffee, eat a bit, rest, and then get out of here."
I went to the bathroom, opened the cabinets, and found a first-aid kit. Carrying it back to the room, I opened it and began to treat Mariella's wounds, giving her some painkillers. They wouldn't help me—I was immune to oxycodone—but they would ease her pain.
Then, I tended to Bran's wounds again, re-wrapping his feet and giving him the man-sized shoes I'd found. I helped everyone else first, using what little remained of my supplies on myself. At least I'd improved their condition somewhat.
Sitting in a chair, I sipped my fourth cup of coffee and ate some meat. Mariella, Bran, Elena, Katherine, and the wolves had all fallen asleep, but I wasn't going to. I intended to stay awake, guarding us, though I hadn't mentioned that part of my plan.
There in the darkness, I sat—alpha female, queen of the vampires, Mimi fucking Salvatore—barely holding it together, but fulfilling my duty to my pack. Earlier, Mariella had raged about Damon, vehemently rejecting him as weak, a fucking machine chasing simple sex. She doubted any spell would affect a creature of his power, though perhaps he wasn't as strong as she believed; time would tell.
Men held little importance in my mind right now, love even less, and sex. It was something I did not want or need, and the mere idea of breeding, having babies, made me physically ill even more. I knew that I was not the only one struggling with these experiences, and what we had gotten through in the last months.
More importantly, how on earth would we heal from this? Physically, recovery would be long and arduous; mentally, I wouldn't even go there. For me, a healthy mind resided in a healthy body, so my physical recovery was paramount.
The task was immense, considering I weighed less than 20 kilos, was riddled with wounds, and already felt fever chills rising as dawn approached, cramps beginning in my lower abdomen—oh, fuck, a miscarriage on top of everything else! This was going to be wild.
Soon, the others would wake, and we'd need to get the hell out of here. Katherine had learned from a guard that we were in Utah, somewhere near the old mines, but we had no idea which part of the state.
I gave my blood to everyone, infusing it with hints to aid their healing–fading memories, altered experiences, leaving them feeling almost drugged. Soon, the ugliness would lessen; trauma would linger, but specific feelings, sensations, and images – even the rapes – would be largely forgotten.
I took care of that. I'll remember, always, forever. It's my curse. Some might even call it a gift – never forgetting. It's time to heal, move on. I have no idea what remains of me; I felt no rage, and the doctor warned it could be long-term. My missing pheromone glands are a blessing in this state, hiding my weakness, preventing others from sensing my true condition; they'll focus on others first.
Without my pheromones telling them exactly how weak I was, and it would be just an added bonus when we would get pack back, I would be as lame as I was back then.
I knew, as Bran had several times looked thick scarring on my wrists and my neck, regret flashing in his gaze as his past sins came to haunt him, that his recovery would need time and maybe Samuel, even Charles, to pull him back from the brink. But without my strawberry scent, no Salvatore would pay any attention to me, but they would direct everyone to care for others.