Ava “Where are we going?” The walls are white, clinical. We pass lots of doors, each with numbers. Mine was room 313. It looks like a hospital. Exc ept this hospital has men with guns everywhere. Another boy my age passes by, his scared brown eyes locking with mine as he is escorted in the opposite direction by a man in a white coat and two guards with guns. The bags under his eyes match mine. We never get enough sle ep. But we are here to save the world, so we can’t complain. They told us how important our blood is and how we can help the world by sharing its secrets. They say my blood is the most important. That’s why they take so much. It makes me feel weak, but they give me ice cream afterward. My favorite flavor is caramel. The lady holding my hand smiles, telling me we will meet a nice man in a mask. The boss. He must hide his face in case bad men are looking for him. That is why I mustn’t be afraid. She tells me he wants to meet me because I am unique. One of a kind. They have something special they want to try on me. It will help them understand how I can heal so quickly. Papa told me when he dropped me off at this hospital that I must stay here and do whatever these people tell me to do. That Mama was sick and that if I stayed here, maybe the doctors could find something that could make her better. I hope they find something soon. I want to go home. It is cold here, and I feel alone. No one talks to me exc ept Beastie, and only through the secret vent under my bed. It leads next door to his room. But he is sometimes gone for days. We take an elevator to the top floor, the doors opening to reveal a large carpeted room with lots of people. They are watching cameras and working on computers. Some of them are looking at a map on a long table, little yellow pins stuck into the map all over. It looks pretty. Lots of people stop and stare at me as I walk past. It makes me feel anxious and shy. When we reach an office on the other side of the room, the lady holding my hand knocks gently. The voice on the other side scares me. I don’t want to go in. “I don’t want to go in there,” I say to the lady, taking a st ep back. She pulls on my hand, the look on her face changing to one of irritation. I know what happens when she gets irritated, but I can’t help it. I would rather be locked up in the small, cold room without food than go through this door. I start crying as the footst eps on the other side become louder. “No, please! I don’t want to!” People are looking at us now, and as I pull my hand free, I fall backward onto the floor, hurting my bottom. I turn around and crawl away, the door behind me opening with force. I don’t get far before strong hands grab my ankles and yank me back painfully. “You’re mine, Ava.”
“Ava, calm down. It’s not real. Shhhh.” Dr. Lewis is hunched down next to me, her hands holding my shoulders firmly as I try to reorient myself. She moves back, giving me space to sit before handing me some tissues and a glass of water. I am crying. My gaze moves around the consultation room in the rehabilitation center. Two hours ago, I entered this room, sk eptical we would make any progress in the first session. Now, here I sat, reeling from the memory of an event so clear I wonder how I couldn’t remember it before. And it wasn’t only the picture that was clear. It was the emotion. Like I was experiencing this for the first time. Utter fear and panic. “You did well, Ava. Usually, I only see this kind of result after the third session. I understand if you want to take a minute, but I find that if we go through everything as soon after coming out of the state as possible, you are more likely to remember. Are you fine with that?” We were doing this to find a way to remove the silver in my body. As painful as it was, I didn’t want to go through that particular memory again just because I forgot something. “Better to pull off the band-aid now.” Dr. Lewis gives me an encouraging smile before sitting in a chair across from me, not epad and pen ready. “What age were you in this memory?” “Seven.” “Do you know where you were?” “No, but the place was heavily guarded, and there were no windows. It was underground somewhere, I think.” My mind goes back to the guards standing around. Their uniform was similar to an army uniform exc ept for the symbol on the right pocket—a symbol I had seen before. “Can I use that?” I ask, pointing to the pad in her hands. She hands me the pad and a pencil. I close my eyes, focusing on the symbol as I sketch it out—an upside-down triangle with three dots in the middle and a spiral lightly overlapping it. “I have seen this symbol before,” I say to Dr. Lewis as I hand her the page. “The Underground. It is the same symbol I saw painted by Adam, who was in the rehabilitation center. It is hanging on the wall there.” Dr. Lewis looks at the symbol thoughtfully. “The man with the mask. The one on the other side of the door. Did you get a look at him?” In this memory, no, but something floats in my mind, another memory that I cannot hold onto. “No. Not this time. But it feels like I have seen him before. I just can’t remember.” Dr. Lewis smiles at me reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Ava. We will get to the bottom of this. This was only the first session. We will have another one tomorrow and see what else comes up. Why don’t we call it a day? You should get some rest. The King has been asking about you non-stop.” She taps her head when I look at her quizzically. Ah yes. The mind-link. It had been a week since I took the seat as Queen. At the time, his mother had been chiefly to blame for that incident. But placing it all on her would
be naïve and foolish. I wanted to stand next to Braiden. He had been patiently waiting for me to acc ept the role. I saw the disappointment earlier in the evening when I said I didn’t think I could do it, even though he tried hiding it. Then, his mother started talking nonsense, and I began thinking. Would I ever be ready? No. So, what was the point of hesitating? What I didn’t realize was that by claiming my seat, events were set into motion. One, the official ceremony where I would receive a crown and be ‘anointed’ as Queen. In a week from tomorrow. Then there was the mate ceremony that would take place the night before—the spot on my neck tingling at the thought. Braiden and I would mark each other. Officially making me his. We would feel everything the other felt. Hear everything the other thought. And that scared me. But you could learn to close the connection. Most wolves mastered this by the time they turned ten. I just hoped I would be able to master this quickly. I fear a ten-year-old's thoughts and a twenty- seven-year-old's are vastly different. Especially when it comes to Braiden. Whenever I look at him, something filthy pops into my mind. Like now, as his large frame stands in the doorway. “Speak of the devil. I should go. I will see you tomorrow at nine, Ava.” Dr. Lewis smiles before leaving, the door clicking shut behind her. “Are you okay?” Braiden reaches me and then drops to his haunches, grasping my hand while his thumb grazes my cheeks. He can tell I have been crying. “I remembered something from when I was seven. I was held somewhere. In a place that looked like a hospital.” Braiden's expression remains unchanged, as if he expected me to say something like this. “I was in room 313. It was The Underground. I’m sure of it. The guards wore uniforms with a symbol on the right pocket.” Before I can carry on and describe it, Braiden does. “An upside-down triangle with three dots in the middle and a spiral.” I nod slowly, the way Braiden explains this and the far-away look in his eyes telling me that he is pulling this description from a memory. Unease starts to settle in the pit of my stomach as I remember the scars on his body. Could he have been captured by The Underground? I suspected this, but we haven’t had a chance to speak about it. “Braiden?” His eyes refocus, and then he is back with me. “There is something you need to know.” “What? What is it?” My stomach tightens anxiously. “I was captured by The Underground. When I was fourteen years old.” Wait. That means that he was captured when I was. A memory flits around, not taking form. Like a whisper. “I was in room 311, Ava.” And just like that, the memory solidifies into a skinny boy with grey eyes being dragged down the corridor by two guards. “Oh my god. You... you’re...” The word comes out in a whisper.
“Beastie.”