It made her crazed.
Her breath didn’t even break as the pain of it focused at the contact point, exploding outward as far as flesh and bone would be affected. The paralytic kept her vital organs working properly while ensuring the pain was agonizing.
Nothing broke. She prayed Raymond didn’t know that or he’d make certain it did.
She couldn’t even turn her gaze up to him, couldn’t force him to stare into her eyes as she glared her hatred at him. She could only stare straight ahead, unable to so much as blink.
There was no way to shield the agonizing pain gripping every cell of her body, though.
“Bitch,” Raymond snarled. “You finally managed to turn Linc against me, didn’t you? You’ve been nothing but trouble. Nothing but a blight on my family.”
And here she thought he held that title. Damn. How wrong could a tigress be?
“Thought you could escape me, didn’t you?” Raymond bent closer to her, the broad, sneering features filled with distaste. “Thought the Breeds could save you by hiding here. Intimidate me,” he hissed. “I contacted the Council. They’re here for you, you freak. They’ll take you and cage you just as you should have stayed caged all along. As soon as I’ve finished with you they’ll make damned sure you never open your mouth again and cause me so much as a moment’s trouble.”
But they hadn’t meant to keep her caged.
They had meant to euthanize her.
She had escaped then, she would find a way to escape now. She hoped she found a way to escape . . .
Rising again Raymond aimed another blow to her ribs, connecting with her stomach instead.
She couldn’t even throw up.
Cat’s stomach pitched and roiled with the agony, bile gathered in her throat, but the paralytic refused to allow it to release.
“Let’s see what they do with you then, fucking freak,” he grated out at her with hate-filled fury. “I won’t have to deal with you ever again. Will I?”
God, she had to find a way to stay alive. And she would, as soon as she could think, as soon as the pain eased just enough for her to pull her senses back in place and to figure out just what to do.
“They’ll have fun with you before they take you out of here,” Raymond snarled. “Lobo Reever’s security bastard will find your blood, smell the scent of your rape, and we’ll see how crazy he gets then. Son of a bitch. I’ll kill him yet.”
Kill Graeme? He may well kill her, but he’d never kill Graeme. And once Graeme realized what had happened here . . . Oh, Raymond, how I would love to hear your screams.
Right now, the only screams she could hear were the ones in her own head. The amplification of pain had agony resonating from her wrist. Her ribs were pounding and she was terrified one may be cracked. Her stomach was on fire from the kick to it, and fear was a vile taste in the back of her throat.
How long she lay there she wasn’t certain. The pain radiating through her nerves had eased, but the broken wrist and bruised ribs had yet to stop screaming. That would take a while. She remembered that. She was barely four the first time the scientists had broken bones while she was under the obscene effect of that drug. Four years old and she had believed her G had deserted her, that he’d let them hurt her. Until she’d been returned to the cells to see the tears that streaked the savage, agonized expression on his face and the restraints that held him to his cot.
He hadn’t deserted her then, but he had deserted her eight years later. He’d left, only to return for vengeance and blood. He’d probably gloat that she’d been caught so effectively after destroying the cameras. Or would he? He’d been enraged when he found Raymond and Linc there. Would he be angry instead?
With Graeme, it was anyone’s guess.
No, it wasn’t, she realized. Graeme would go insane if he saw her now. The maddened creature lurking inside him would emerge with such a need for vengeance that there would be no stopping it. He wouldn’t rest until those responsible for her pain suffered a hundred times worse. When they died, it would be only after he’d inflicted all the torture possible to inflict. Jackals could take a lot of pain, they could withstand it for weeks. Raymond would take more finesse to keep him alive for the pain she knew Graeme would mete out.
She belonged to him. She always had. He had stood by stoically when the therapies had left her screaming, her body feeling as though it were being torn apart as they reshaped who and what she was. But the few experiments Brandenmore had ordered had left him crazed.
The door began opening again, slowly. There was no scent to herald this arrival. It wasn’t Raymond, it wasn’t a Jackal.
The shadow that entered the room was far different from Raymond’s. Taller, more powerful.
Graeme.