Eyes screwed shut. Rage burned like a motherfucker as I hissed out a breath, drawing in a breath around the pain slicing across my chest.

I needed to keep my shit together, under control.

My lids slowly opened to meet my reflection. DuPonte had thought it was a great idea to have a mirror erected a few feet about the bed so I could watch first hand the sick-fuck Calder torture me.

And oh, how he was having fun.  Every slice, Every crack of a bone had him smiling and shining in ways that wasn't normal, hell I wasn't even sure if he was human.

And blood.

So much blood.

My fucking blood.

Catching my breath, Calder frowned as he stood with the scalpel in his hand. My blood dripped from its blade.

"Explain What is happening here, Calder?" DuPonte growled, shifting closer to the bed. Within reach if I wasn't being held down by this fucking collar.

My top lip curled up. It looked like the quick death he wanted wasn't happening. Not that the fuckers weren't trying. But the harder they tried, the quicker I healed.

What was up with that?

Not that I would complain.

But what it didn't stop was the pain. I felt every cut, slice and opening of my veins. Although I was thankful they'd not tried to cut off my dick or some other crazy shit. I would rather lose a hand than my dick.

I glared at DuPonte. "What!?" I spat out a mouthful of blood. "Am I fucking up your day, yeah?" I chuckled, but fuck me, it hurt my lungs.

His immense figure towered over me, his menacing shadow casting me in gloom. His dead irises looked right at me. Nostrils flaring. "Don't worry Mr Stone. I can assure you. You will die today."

I raised an eyebrow. "Odds don't look in your favour, wanker."

My eyes followed a figure striding past us. The bitch. She gave me a sidelong glance, whispering in her sickly sweet tone, "Can't we just rip out his heart?"

Ah, motherly love at its finest.

Close enough, Elaine stared at me shrewdly, taking in my eyes. Reflected on the surface of her own, I saw my eyes were no longer brown, but looked black, which only happened when I was about to shift, or I sensed Sage's wolf.

Head tilting. "No one can survive without a heart," she mused, with a little too much enthusiasm. "Even you, my son."

Son?  Was she having a laugh? "You really have no conscience, do you?"

"Oh, Hunter." She stroked her finger down my cheek. "Trust me, I have a conscience. A very clean one." Her lips lifted in amusement.  "I haven't used it once."

Wasn't that the fucking truth.

Considering the bitch's suggestion, DuPonte's eyes moved to Calder and then the person standing directly behind me. A Shaman, Elizibar?

"Would you have enough time if we rip out his heart?" His tone was impatient.

DuPonte had been excited to introduce him to this Shaman. I'd go as far to say the prick was full on gushing—bet he even had a hard-on.

Supposedly, he could move souls or spirits from body to body. And they wanted my wolf for some reason. Transferring it to the tosser in the bed next to me. Seven. I could see him in the mirror's reflection too. Grinning like some deranged fool.

Did I look like that?

The only uplifting thing about this shit-show was the fact that my wolf was there inside me—somewhere.

Anyway, back to the Shaman. He couldn't do his job whilst I was still fully functioning.

Apparently, I had to be at death's door.

Another thing I'd learned was the Shaman was the one to transfer DuPonte's soul into the newer, shinier version.

The body didn't make any difference—He was still a cunt.

The whispers of the audience who had gathered to watch a real life snuff movie got louder, more insistent. Their eyes had been all over me when I was led in here, not that I recognised many of them.  But no doubt I'd pissed off one or all of them at one time or another.

Not that I cared. Hell, who didn't go through life without pissing a few people off?

The Shaman lowered his head, pressing his icy fingers on my temples. His putrid breath beat over my cheeks and stung my nostrils.

He shook his head.

DuPonte stiffened, straightening up fast, like someone had stuck a rod up his arse. Now that was a good idea.

I coughed out a chuckle as his eyes sliced back to mine. "What amuses you, Mr Stone?"

"Me pissing on your parade, yeah?" My tongue slipped out to wet my dry and cracked lips.

"You don't affect me, Mr Stone."

"Bull-fucking-shit." My head moved a fraction to stare him down. "You're the type of arsehole who knows what shape his shit's gonna be before you even squeeze it out. So don't stand there and tell me this isn't pissing you off right now. That I'm still alive and none of you have a fucking clue why."

Fierce, white lines of anger grooved around the beady bastard's eyes. His mouth pinched tight as our eyes wilfully clashed.

Oh yeah. Bulls-fucking-eye. I was getting to him.

But a moment later, something moved in his eyes, his anger abated, smoothing the creases from his features. I would even go as far to say the bastard looked smug.

My eyes trapped by his, he said. "This ends now. The wolf dies with him. Do it. Rip out his heart."

Triumph stared back at me.

Fuck.

Was it game over? The bitch was right. I wouldn't-couldn't survive without a heart. My healing skills were good—but not that fucking good. And as I thought about it, my heart tightened, painfully so.

Not because I was scared to die. I wasn't.

It was all for Sage. I was terrified for her. Once they'd killed me. Would she be next? Would they go after my children?

And in that heart stopping moment, I broke into a sweat, my back blistered with chills.

Regret wasn't far behind. If by some miracle they didn't end up in the hands of DuPonte. I hoped they knew how much I loved them all.

Although I knew Sage wouldn't be the same. A part of her would die the same time I did.

"What? Cat got your tongue, Mr Stone?" The wanker gloated.

"Oh, my middle finger is giving you a standing ovation."

He smirked and moved back, and the bitch took his hand in hers.

United they stand.

Ugh. I wanted to projectile vomit all over their smug fucking faces.

But I didn't have time to think more on it as Calder moved fast and this time his scalpel opened up a line of blood from my belly-button up to my chest, digging the blade in further in the dip of my throat just below the collar.

He smirked. "Now let's see how you fair with a little open heart play?" Moving back to his small table. He placed down the scalpel and lifted what looked like a saw.

"We're going to perform and sternotomy and before you have time to heal." He glanced over my chest and I could already feel the skin knitting back together. Faster than its ever done. "I will have opened up your thorax and clamped it in place." An evil smirk lifted his almost colourless lips. "Try healing that, Mr Stone!"

I had no witty comeback for that. In all honesty I felt the blood drain from my face.

This was it. Check fucking mate.

His massive frame blocked everyone else from sight as the collar around my throat tightened as he pressed the saw onto my chest, moving all his weight behind it.

The first shunt of the cold steel teeth stole my breath.

The crack of my breastbone had my heart shrinking, hiding.

Another crack and my chest was open wide, and in the reflection, I saw my beating heart as Calder barked an instruction to one of his assistants to pass him what looked like metal clamps?

"Finally," I heard Elaine say, and I stopped paying attention to what Calder was doing and felt cool air rush over my skin and I caught the scent of something. Not something. Someone.

Sage.

Was Sage here?

Calder shifted back, but I couldn't shift my head enough to see.

It was her scent. Strong. But then my entire body sagged. It wasn't my mate. No, it was another of those fucking clones. Four?  Now in full view, standing next to Elaine, his eyes appraising me. The fucker had her scent all over him.

"What kept you?" she asked him.

"Took longer than I thought," he said, lifting a finger to point at me. "Am I too late?"

"No, you're just in time. Change of plans. He dies with his wolf."

His eyebrows knitted together. "But I thought we needed his wolf?"

"Enough," said DuPonte. "The heart, Calder. I want to hold it in my hand, whilst he's still conscious."

I swore I'd already stopped breathing as Calder picked up his scalpel.

One.

Two.

"Wait!" DuPonte held up his hand.

My eyes cut to his. Something had him spooked.

"We're leaving now." He flicked his chin up. "Everyone out."

What the fuck?

Not having a clue what was going on, I heard the shuffling of feet, the mumbling of voices.

My ears pricked. Was that gunfire?

I tried to push against the invisible control on me. But stopped when I felt a shift in the air. Something moved at speed.

A face came into view.

Where the hell had he come from? He looked familiar and not at the same time, if that made sense? I mean, surely I would remember all that long blond hair that no doubt women loved.

Matt black eyes searched my face—what he was looking for I didn't know. Seemingly not satisfied, he moved his face closer to mine and sniffed. Yeah, the weirdo sniffed me and something else. His senses unravelled, creeping over my exposed skin. It was almost as if his tongue licked across my throat. Tasting. Testing.

"Okay, pretty boy. Back the fuck up."

He eased back and what I think was a smile tugged at his mouth. Head cocking to the side, he spoke so quietly no else could hear. "It seems something does not destine you to die here today, Mr Stone."

His accent was Eastern European and kinda old worldly.

My eyes narrowed. "Who the fuck are you?" And there, I saw them. Fangs. He was one of those pasty-faced wankers. Bloodsuckers. I tried to think back on the report.

Fargo... Dargo... No, Drago... that was the name.

"I'll be seeing you again soon, Mr Stone."

And corny as it sounded. He was gone in the blink of an eye.

But I wasn't alone. There were two people still in here with me. Eyes on the mirror trying not to gawp at my torso split wide open, I asked. "What? Are you both just gonna stare, yeah?"

Blowing out a frustrated breath. It completely fucked me over. Left me vulnerable if I couldn't free myself. It also crushed my fantasy of ripping these two muppets to shreds.

Especially the one that had laid his hands on my mate.

Nobody touched what was mine. And I would take joy in snapping off each finger and ramming them down his throat.

It was the wanker, Seven, that moved first. Jumping from his bed, his grinning face landed in front of mine. Ruffling my hair, he grunted. "Does this hurt?" He yanked on a clamp, grinning.

I bit back the pain, instead picturing myself ripping out his tongue.

"Quit it, Seven," the other clone said, moving toward the bed. Now they both were in view. Four looked slightly less crazy than Seven and was he wearing my clothes?

And whilst I plotted different ways, I was going to kill them. Four moved to tug at the clamps holding my chest open. I sucked in a sharp breath as the metal instruments clattered onto the tiled floor and the pressure on my chest relaxed.

"What the fuck are you doing, Four?" grouched Seven.

"Free him," said Four. "They tied the collar to you and DuPonte."

No way? Was he helping me?

"What the?" Seven's face twisted into a scowl. "You're serious?"

"Yes. Free him," he repeated.

Seven pulled up, squaring his shoulders. "No. You've clearly lost your mind, brother."

Four moved quickly, reaching across me he snatched Seven by the throat and started throttling him. Seven scrambled to free himself as I watched with my mouth hanging open.

It was comedy gold. The clone of me, strangling the clone of me.

Seven coughed and spluttered, spit gathered in the corner of his mouth, and when he tried to say something, I couldn't make it out. Holding one hand up, Four loosened his grip. "I won't ask again, Seven," he threatened.

"Fine." Four didn't let go completely, but I felt it. The collar's influence vanished, leaving me able to move.

I sprang upright, ignoring the gaping hole in my chest, I snatched the thing from around my neck to fine it came away easily. Tossing it over my shoulder. And then before senses could catch up with the rest of me, my hand landed on Four's chest, shunting him out of the way. Turning my attention on Seven, I curled my hands around his throat, shifting my legs, pushing off the bed. My grip tightened and his eyes bulged, the tiny bloody vessels popping like tiny fireworks.

Fucking beautiful.

Four's hand grabbed me by the shoulder, yanking me back. "You don't have time. DuPonte is getting away."

My head slid in his direction.

"The helicopter will arrive any minute."

"Where the fuck is Sage?" I snarled, itching to murder him.

"She's outside. Safe."

"Don't think this makes us even, yeah?" I eyeballed him.

Ignoring my threat. "You're wasting time."

He was right. Tossing Seven like he weighed nothing, he hit the wall and slipped down to land on his arse. Wanker was still grinning as he rubbed at his throat.

"You might want to fix that first." Four winced.

Fuck. Oh yeah, still split down the middle. Ewe. Sucking in a breath, I braced myself as I pieced myself back together.

Thank the Goddess. The wound began healing. Bones, tissue, and muscle got to work repairing themselves.

Pulling up the orange jumpsuit which had been pushed down to my hips, I slipped my arms in as my feet moved toward the exit, and I was out the door into the corridor.  Which way?

"Hey, big-boy. Stairs are down there on the left," I heard a familiar voice. Spinning around, I came face to face with Pearl.

Or not. Whatever this was, it floated and shimmered. It was for what a better word a ghost?

Fuck me. Was she dead?

She read my mind. "Don't freak out. I'm not dead. It's astral me."

Well, that made no sense. "Where's Sage?"

"With Sylar and Misha and Cass."

Relief was instant.

"My grandfather is heading up to the roof."

I heard more gunshots.

"I'm going after him." Heading for the stairs, I shouted over my shoulder. "Make sure nothing happens to Sage."

I was hitting the stairs when I felt him. A growl rumbled through my chest and awareness shunted across my skin.

I smiled. 'Welcome back, you crazy bastard. Missed you,'  I said to my wolf.

His presence wrapped itself around me. And I shifted right there on the stairs. And the cracking of these bones and muscles shifting and reforming felt damn good. We belted up the stairs, heading for the roof.

Thankfully, the roof door could be opened by levering the long release handle with my snout. Handling doors in wolf form could be tricky. Outside, it was good to breathe in fresh air as the wind worked its way through my fur. I kept my flank low as the cool night air thickened with my threat, with my every growing fury.

Slow steps brought them into sight.

DuPonte. The bitch and Calder.

Numbers one, two and fucking three on my death wish list.

Oh, I was going to have some fun. It was about to rain down blood and let's see what their hearts looked like or even better, tasted like.  My wolf licked across his fangs. 

These fuckers were mine.

~ ~ ~

A/N: Sorry. No update 1 March.  I've written the next chapter three times and although I think I'm finally happy-ish, its not ready for your eyes yet!  So next update, Wednesday 8th March.