And then there was the scent of O, the man that ran this place, or so Roake had assumed since he appeared to lead everyone. But all he could do was feel the sensation of being strapped to this cold, hard, and unforgiving table, with the scent of death surrounding him. For several minutes he tried to his bearings, tried to have his animals push the drugs through his system faster so he could focus. And then the bastards left him alone in there. They tossed him up on the lab table, and strapped his arms and legs down. But that moment of strength vanished as soon as it had come, and then he was weak once more. He struggled again, snapping and baring his teeth. The smell of old blood and sweat, of shifters that had been brought in here and killed, filled his nose and momentarily had life renewing in his body. He was dragged into the lab, not far from his cell. Whatever drugs they gave him never knocked him out, but they did make him submissive to whatever these sick fucks were going to do to him. Once the cell door was shut again Annabelle went over to him and wrapped her hands around the metal bars. The panthers dragged him out of the cell, and it was hard to keep his head up, let alone have his eyes open. She had no one in this godforsaken place except him, and he was going to make sure she knew that he would do everything in his power to see her safe, even if that meant he’d die trying. He might have only had her in his cell for a short time, but all he could think about was making sure she was protected. But they left her alone, and for that he was thankful, because Roake couldn’t stand to see her hurt anymore than she already had been. He fought them until his arms and legs felt like they were made of cement and the sound of Annabelle’s harsh breathing was the only thing he could hear. Instantly Roake felt whatever drug they had given him move through his veins.
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