Echoed Lullabies (Lunar Chronicles x Reader)

Chapter 86

Just like them.

The sound of a gunshot ricocheted in his head and he was standing in a crowded, dusty square. His mother collapsed beside him. Blood pooled under his feet. But they weren't his feet. They were enormous paws, prowling back and forth, and the scent of his mother's blood was in his nostrils—

The dream ended the same way it had begun. With the girl, beaten and covered in blood. She was on her hands and knees, scrambling to get away. She rolled onto her back. He could smell the blood on her. He could feel the horror rolling off her in torrents. He could see the hatred in her eyes.

This time, he was the predator. This time, she was looking at him.

He jolted awake. Stop Ran. Kill the alpha. Run away. Save her. Find the old woman. Kill Jael and rip his still-beating heart from his chest. Find his parents. Join his pack. Tear their limbs from their sockets. Hide. Be brave. Protect her. Find her. Save her. Kill her—

"A little help here!"

His eyes were open, but he couldn't see beyond blaring lights. Someone was holding down his arms. Multiple someones. Growling, he snapped his teeth at his captors, but caught only air.

"Stars above," someone grunted. "I've never seen one of them wake up like that before. Hand me that tranquilizer."

"No. Do not tranquilize him." This second feminine voice was soft and calm, yet spoke in demands. "Her Majesty has requested his presence."

Wolf got one arm loose. Cords snapped around him. Something scraped beneath the skin of his forearm, but he was too frazzled to pay it much attention. He snagged one of the blurred shapes by the throat and tossed him overhead. A scream was followed by a crash of metal.

"What—"

Wolf found the second person and wrapped both hands around their throat. Just a snap ...

A shock of pain tore through his arms. He let go and the stranger stumbled back, gasping for air.

Wolf collapsed back onto the table. Though the pain had been brief, his left hand continued to twitch.

It wasn't a table at all, he realized. Shallow walls surrounded him. Dozens of tubes, many of which were still buried in his flesh. The tugging sensation he'd felt before was from needles still half-buried under his skin. Grimacing, he turned his face away, the sight churning his stomach.

Not more needles. Not another tank. Not more surgeries.

Footsteps approached and he glanced toward his feet. A form was silhouetted in the bright lights. A female thaumaturge in red, with pitch-black hair pulled into a bun. "Welcome back, Alpha Kesley."

Wolf swallowed, though the movement hurt his throat. Something felt wrong. Many things felt wrong. Something was on his face. A mask, or—

He reached for his mouth but the cords held him back, and this time he didn't fight them.

"Finish the reconstitution procedures," said the thaumaturge. "He is quite amicable now."

Another woman crept into view, rubbing her neck. She eyed Wolf warily as she started to remove the needles from his arms, then disconnected some probes that had been stuck to his scalp. He flinched at each one.

"Can you sit?" asked the lab technician.

Wolf braced his muscles and pushed himself upward. The task was easier than he'd expected. His brain was telling him he was weak, confused, delirious. But his body felt ready to fight. His nerves hummed with unspent energy.

The technician handed him a cup of orange liquid. He sniffed it first, his nose curling in distaste, then fit it to his lips.

He paused. Lowered the cup again.