Chained By Blood [Supernaturals Underground, Book Seven] by Holly Hook

Author:Holly Hook [Hook, Holly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-06-14T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

I hated soap operas, and the remote taped to my chair was very tempting with its OFF button. The TV only got a couple of channels, so I could pick from Soap Opera Network, Talk Show Soup, and silence.

But I kept my TV on in my room to make anyone outside the room more at ease. If I kept it off, they’d think I was up to something, or worse, thinking. It was best to make it look like I was passing the time.

I was going on Hour Two of this. Like with Trish, the guards had strapped me into a wheelchair, and they kept those shock guns aimed at me the whole time. Welcoming.

Not moving sucked, and so did the thin hospital gown. The guards had made me change in front of them, but at least I got to keep on my undergarments. Trish was right. Privacy was not something they cared about here.

If we were Normals, we could sue this place.

My thoughts kept shifting back to Brendan, and I had to keep pulling them back to staking out the area.

I memorized the guards’ routes, at least for this shift. The nicer woman paced around the werewolf wing while the men patrolled the other halls. The woman talked to a guy named Mark during her breaks. They had a coffee room close to the cafeteria, and she went there often, leaving George’s hallway empty.

My second cousin made no noise. Either he was sullen in captivity or they had him drugged. The werewolf wing was too far away for me to hear everything clearly, though.

Doctors and nurses opened doors and greeted other patients.

I listened and made a list in my head. Trish. A man named Pierre who begged for any good blood. Unnamed others. They must have two dozen vampires here and three werewolves.

The werewolves, I knew, were the best bet for helping all of us escape. If George could shift, he could withstand electrical shots and even gunshots.

The trick was getting to him and the others, and I was already planning.

I mapped out how I could break out of this wheelchair, run around the cameras’ views, and sneak past the guards on their coffee break.

Someone stepped up to my door and took the paper chart out of the flap. I tensed since this might be my first treatment.

The door opened with a heavy whoosh.

Two orderlies who smelled like morning doughnuts walked inside. They were both well-built young men who might have gone to college a few years ago. Neither wore a name tag. The first guy smiled at me. “How are you doing today?”

“Fine. This isn’t comfortable, and soap operas suck.” Though my wrists were bound, I pointed to the Velcro that held the remote to my wheelchair.

The orderly took the remote off the chair and set it on the windowsill. “I agree with you on that.” The guy seemed friendly enough. “All of this is procedure. Keeping you in the chair, I mean. I wish they’d come

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