Property of a Gordon

Chapter Twenty Five

All the guards, every single one of them, had been fired for their incompetence. Within two days, they were replaced with highly trained men, each of whom were threatened by Kendall himself. The quantity of guards was also doubled to the point that you couldn't go anywhere in the palace without running into at least two of them.

Security had also been tightened. There were background checks done for everyone, which resulted in several servants being fired for unknown reasons. Now, no one could get within the palace walls without a thorough body check done by five different guards, a complete search through your items along with a series of questions about each, and a sniff search for you and your items done by three different werewolves. The whole process was tedious, but necessary in my eyes.

With hundreds of people walking and running throughout the palace, it was expected that as least one person would have seen someone setting up the explosive. However, when everyone was asked about it, no one had an answer. Someone in the palace was lying and remaining quiet out of fear or for some unknown reason. Kendall had been furious enough to threaten to close the palace, which would result in hundreds of people without a home or job. The threat had been empty and not enough to make the person come forward.

Connor Chaney, the man Kendall had been expecting to see, was eliminated as the creator of the explosive. He hadn't been in the palace at the time nor anywhere near it. The reason for his visit was to inform Kendall he was dying. He had made Kendall the sole owner of all his land in the will. In trade, he wanted Kendall to have him buried near the palace and remembered for his generous gift, which Kendall agreed to.

The chef, whose name was Alex, informed Kendall of the werewolf I'd seen. There was a search for him, but he wasn't found. Kendall then decided to give a bountiful reward to anyone who could find him.

I knew all of this because I'd become part of the 18.07 percent that survived. Everyone had been surprised, most of all my doctors. They had told everyone I was a fighter and that someone had to have been watching over me for such a miracle to happen.

Shortly after, I was placed in physical therapy where I shifted numerous times in order to completely heal my body. The damn place was a hell on earth. No matter how many times I begged, cried, or tried attacking them, they wouldn't let me stop. I had blacked out twice from their "exercises" until they finally decided it was time to stop them. Now, they gave me human exercises that did little to nothing for me. But I refused to tell them.

I now had burn scars to match the scar on my neck. If I wore long shirts and pants, then they weren't visible. The doctor told me I should just be grateful I hadn't lost any ability to function properly. And I truly was grateful for that.

Kendall had supposedly been there when I first woke up, but I don't remember seeing him. But then again, I don't remember when I first woke up. What I do know is that since then, Kendall hasn't visited, and I hadn't seen him. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Luckily, I had his brothers, Lex, and Raelynn to keep my mind from wandering towards the subject.

Currently, it was Lex's turn to become my source of entertainment. He was telling me about his childhood and the crazy things he, Raelynn, and Kendall used to do. My favorite was the time Kendall and Raelynn had dared Lex to provoke one of the guard dogs. Lex had snorted, claiming he could do so in his sleep. The snarl Lex received in return made him in need of a new pair of underwear.

I wasn't able to talk just yet as when I'd first tried to, the numb pain had rapidly sharpened, and my eyes had started to tear up. So the doctor gave me a notepad and pen to use for communication means for now.

What about the bet? I tried writing, but it was still hard to properly hold the pen, so I was sure it didn't read near as well as I hoped.

I handed the pad to Lex who gave my handwriting a puzzled look before he scratched the back of his head and said, "I hate to be the one to inform you, but your handwriting is horrible. If you're creating your own, secretive language, then you're doing a wonderful job because I can't read a damn thing!"