Seventy-five...

My muscles burned and my biceps bulged under the strain of my own body weight.

I was doing press-ups.

Why? Because anything was better than pacing or lying on that poor excuse for a bed staring at these four shitty walls.

The boredom clawed at my brain—driving me fuckin' nuts.

I wouldn't be able to stick it for much longer.

Down I went, my nose dusting the cold concrete. Clammy beads of sweat snaked down my temples and this god-damn orange jumpsuit, made of polyester of all things, itched with my perspiration.

"Fuckers," I snarled

Seventy-six...

But then something happened.

I barely snatched a breath as the pain to my chest slammed into the heart of me and I face-planted before rolling over to lie flat on my back clutching at my chest.

What the actual fuck?

The pain wasn't letting up, it was shredding me from the inside out and it was nothing to do with the fucked up collar around my neck.

No. This was something else.

Sage...

Something was wrong with Sage.

An awful sinking feeling fell through me before panic began to rise.

It felt like I was losing her, slipping away from me, like sand through fingers.

My heart lurched, barely being kept inside my chest. I went rigid. But then my back arched and the muscles in my neck strained and my hand curled into fists, feeling my blood rage inside me. "Saaaaaage." I cried out.

I stayed like that for fuck knows how long, but then it stopped. Just like that. My back lowered to the cold concrete floor and my entire body sagged. But nothing was slowing down my heartbeat.  

A little—no scrap that. A lot shaken. I pushed up from the floor to stand. A little shaky, I leaned over placing my hands on my thighs glancing around the cell, looking for some kind of explanation.

But obviously I wouldn't find any here.

So what had just caused that?

I closed my eyes, reaching inside me, hoping to communicate with my wolf.

Nothing. Fuck-all.

In the dark corners of my mind, I knew it had something to do with Sage. She'd been hurt or was hurting.

Fear reached out, wrapped it cold, bony figures around my throat and squeezed.  I had to shove that image out of my head. Right away. Because if I started picturing that she was hurt, alone. Or that clone had his hands on her.

Then I really would lose my shit.

A noise caught my attention and I straightened up.  The clipping of heels heading my way had my eyes pinned to the door.  A loud beep sounded as the latch clicked and the door opened.  Not even waiting to see who the hell it was, I launched toward it, my eyes widening when my hands wrapped around the throat of that fucking assistant of my mothers.

Whatshername... Ms Butters? Cutter?   Fucked if I could remember.

She managed a small gargled gasp as I cut off her airway, throttling her. Small hands and sharp nails scratched at mine in a desperate attempt to free herself.

I could taste the fear that darkened her eyes.

Heat spiked my blood. I was enjoying this. But all good things end as the fucking noose around my neck—the collar, kicked in and I was stumbling backward, being brought to my knees.

Now I was the one gasping, coughing, and spluttering. It lasted only a minute, but it was enough to burst a blood vessel and blood to trickle from my nose dripping onto the floor.

Finally, the pressure eased and I swallowed down a lump of air as my eyes crawled up the walls, glaring at the cameras. I lifted my hand and to whichever fucker was watching this shit-show and gave them my middle finger salute before I wiped the blood away.

"That's not a nice way to greet a visitor." My gaze slid her way as she closed in on me, her hazel eyes bright and set right on me, swinging those hips like she fucking owned me.  

Why was she so happy?  Didn't it click that I'd been trying to strangle her? 

But seeing my hand prints flourish on her pale skin, that at least had me internally smiling. "What the fuck do you want?" I snarled, really not in the mood to be dealing with her shit now my fun had been stopped.

"Oh, I was just passing," the bitch smirked at me and I made a mental note to move her up on my shit-list.  

Just out of arm's reach, she walked past me and perched herself on the bed, crossing her long legs, making her skirt ride up to glimpse her thighs, which was clearly done on purpose.

I rolled my eyes and looked away.

"Why don't you sit here?" She patted the space next to her. "We can talk for a while."

Talk?   Was she having a laugh? "I've got fuck all to say to you, yeah?"

"I could make you," she shrugged and her finger pointed up to the camera." But I'd rather you came and sat next to me of your own free will." She dragged her bottom lip through her teeth.

Was the crazy bitch flirting with me?

No? Surely not?

She hated me. I hated her.

I wasn't even the slightest bit attracted to her—doubted I ever was. And the only thing I pictured doing to her was ripping out her throat or perhaps carving her heart out with a spoon.

Yeah, that might be fun.

"C'mon, Hunter." She cocked her head to the side. "You must be bored by now... cooped up all day, all by your little lonesome?"

She wasn't wrong, but Christ. I could feel the draft from her long fake eyelashes as they fluttered up a storm.

Could she be any more fucking obvious?

She carried on, now twisting a lock of her long hair around her finger. "Charles thinks I might be able to use my female charms to get information from you."

DuPonte was fucking wrong—or high. Because I wasn't telling her jack-shit. If those tossers torturing me had got no information, then her and her long legs and fluttering eyelashes certainly wouldn't do it either.

"I can be real nice," she hummed. "If you're nice to me." She smiled, looking up at me through hooded lids. "Give you a little relief." Her eyes slid down my body, stopping on my dick.

Understanding slowly dawned on me. She didn't give a shit about information I might have of interest to DuPonte, and I almost loosened a groan.  What?  She thought I would be desperate to wet my dick?

I would pick torture over her coming anywhere near my dick—any-fucking-day of the week.

Pain was simply that. Pain.

The idea of having sex with someone other than my mate, Sage, was frankly sickening. I could feel my dick practically shrivelling.

I jabbed a finger in her direction. "Whatever shit that's going on inside that head, yeah—you can forget it. I ain't interested in what you're selling, darlin'."

She huffed, fake pouting. "Oh, I'm sure I can do something to convince you."

Angling her head up, her eyes locked onto the camera and when she gave a nod in its direction, the pain was swift. Tightening around my throat causing me to wheeze and my feet to move. One step in front of the other. Toward her.

I tried to fight it. Growled all the way before my arse landed on the bed next to hers.

As the pain let up. I narrowed my eyes and mouthed, 'you're dead,'  to the camera, dragging my thumb horizontally across my throat.

I had a pretty good feeling it was that wanker of a clone, Seven, up there. Most likely getting his rocks off.

Oh, I was going to enjoy killing that motherfucker... slowly.

She placed her warm hand on my thigh and squeezed, making me flinch. "There. See, not so bad sitting next to me."

My mouth set in a hard line, and I swatted her hand off me. "Keep your hands to yourself, yeah."

Not listening to a fucking word. Her hand returned just as fast and slipped higher.

This time, I snatched her hand. "Touch me again and I'll break it."

She giggled, pulling her hand from my grasp.

Clearly undeterred or just plain crazy, she leaned toward me, pressing her tits into my arm. Her breath ticked the outer shell of my ear. "You're not in charge here, Stone." Her hand moved back to my thigh. "I am."

Jerking away, I didn't have time to do much else before my body stiffened and I flew backward, hitting the mattress so hard—it bounced. My eyes shot up to the camera. I might as well have been a fucking puppet on a string.

Snarling, "what the fuck you doing, woman?"

"Me?" she giggled, pushing up from the bed and hiking up her skirt. I watched, dumbfounded because let's face it, I couldn't do anything else with that fucker behind the camera yanking my strings.

The crazy bitch straddled me.

Her face hovered above mine, and I snapped my teeth, glaring at her.

This didn't deter her either, as her lips feathered mine. "I like a bit of bite." Tugging my bottom lip between her teeth.

"What the fuck you on!?" I garbled out, and she pushed up, resting one hand flat on my chest and the other she placed across my mouth. "Shush. I'm talking now."

She wriggled on top of me, smiling at me like some deranged person.

Was she on something?

"I'm trying to be nice here." She huffed. "Helping the condemned man."

And then she was leaning over me fully, pressing her tits into my chest and her mouth was back at my ear. "Think of me as your last meal."

Not a fucking chance.

She carried on talking whilst I tried to fight against the control which had me pinned in place.

"Even though you are a chauvinistic womanising whore of an asshole,  I—"

Yeah, in the past, maybe. "Come up with that all by yourself?" I interrupted.

One eyebrow arched, she carried on. "Keep interrupting and I will get them to stop you from talking." Smiling triumphantly. "Which would be a shame because I actually like your dirty mouth, that and riding your big, cock."

She was certifiably crazy if she thought she'd be riding my dick. Ever.

And no amount of control would get my dick to sit up. It was trying to retreat as the crazy bitch spoke.

Oblivious to the shock and disgust written all over my face, she continued. "Let me show you what you're missing and all's you have to do is just lie here. It's not like I need you to do any of the hard work."

"Sorry to burst that fucked up bubble you live it. But there ain't a cat-in-hells-chance my dick wants near what you're offering."

"I sure it won't be that hard... to get it in the mood."

She gyrated her hips.

But thank christ, my dick didn't even twitch.

I rolled my eyes.

"Sorry, darlin'" I said snarkily. "You do nothing for me."

Her mouth set in a hard line. "Perhaps it just needs a little encouragement."

It wouldn't matter if she zapped the thing with 250 volts of electricity.

Her hand slipped inside and teased my nipple.

"You're not getting it, are you?" My lip curled up in disgust. "Last time we fucked, beauty was in the bottom of my whisky glass. I was pissed as a fart." Her hand froze as her eyes narrowed on me. "And the reason I had you bent over my desk was so I didn't have to look at your face."

The full force of her hand landed on my left cheek but it didn't nothing but widen my smile.

"You're nothing. Shit on my shoe. Pathetic." she screamed in my face as hers reddened, her nostrils flaring wildly.

"I'm pathetic?" She was having a laugh. "Darlin' I ain't the one who's gyrating on a guy's lap when he's clearly not interested."

The second slap didn't even sting—not even a little.

"I lied," she spat. "You were a shit fuck!"

I barked out a laugh. "Yeah, sure."

The tension in my muscles vanished. Whatever was holding me down, its influence withdrew. I blinked and as her hand went to slap me again, I grabbed it.  The shocked on her face was priceless as I did what I'd promised and the crack to her wrist was fucking delicious.

She screamed as I bucked her off me, sending her flying backwards.

Pushing up, I saw her land on her ass. Up off the bed. She cradled her broken wrist to her chest, and I was about to wrap my hands around her throat when the door opened, slamming into the wall.

Cologne hit me first as my eyes landed on the number one person on my kill list.

Charles Du-fucking-Ponte.

And right behind him were those two burly fuckers that carried me into this shit-hole.

"Get out," he said to her without even glancing her way.

His eyes set on me.

Barbie here got her to feet, throwing me one last dirty glare on her way out.

He strolled around the room as if taking in a view or some shit. The idiots with him stayed where they stood, arms folded, trying to look all intimidating.

My morning's deposit in the toilet was more intimidating.

"Good evening, Mr Stone," the cocky bastard said.

"You gonna try to ride my dick, too?" I shrugged, arching one eyebrow. "Can't say you look any better than the last one that tried."

His approach was the stalk of a predator, but I held my ground, itching to get my teeth on that vein that pulsed in his throat.

He cocked his head. "They said patience is a virtue, but I find I don't want to wait." His lips set a grim line. So much hatred blazed in those slitted, dead eyes. "This ends tonight. Now."

"Can we quit with the small talk and get to the point? My favourite show starts any minute and they're gonna be fetching dinner down and it's fish and chips tonight."

He laughed, but he wasn't amused.

Neither was I.

"I would like to say I will miss you, Mr Stone, but honestly, I'm looking forward to seeing you on Dr Calder's table, and I will look directly into your eyes when you take your last breath."

The damned collar around my neck tightened.

"Come, Mr Stone. Follow me. Your death awaits you. And we don't want to keep your audience waiting."