The Prisoned Alpha

Chapter 7

The week that followed Olivia’s first day was a blur of monotony and tension. Her mind, haunted by a dream of black eyes and a voice like grinding gravel, was a restless, churning sea. She spent her days attending to the mundane injuries and psychological needs of the inmates, all the while her mind was fixed on one man and one unanswerable question. Her nights were filled with the same terrifying, intensely s****l dream, a primal, all-consuming force that left her feeling both frightened and profoundly changed.

She was back in her office now, the sterile silence of the medical wing a sharp contrast to the chaos in her mind. Her desk was a scattered landscape of files and books on obscure psychological conditions. She had spent every free moment trying to find a record of the medication they gave Xander, but every avenue was a dead end. The computer records for his file were incomplete, a series of blank pages and redacted paragraphs. The physical files, in a dusty, old cabinet in the back of the medical wing, were sealed with a warden’s stamp and a warning that made her pause. She knew this was a futile effort, but she was a woman on a mission, a woman who had to know the truth.

Sarah, the tired-looking assistant, walked past her office, her face a mask of worry. She paused in the doorway and gave Olivia a look that was a silent, unwritten warning. “You’re in too deep, Dr. Kane,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “The warden, he doesn’t like a doctor who asks questions.”

Olivia simply nodded, her eyes never leaving the files. She knew Sarah was right, but she also knew she couldn’t stop. The curiosity was an addiction, and her professional ethics were a powerful fuel.

Just then, the clock on the wall chimed a series of sharp, metallic notes, and Olivia’s heart gave a sudden, painful lurch. It was time. Time for Xander Mahon’s weekly injection.

Meanwhile, in the depths of the prison, Xander’s stomach was a tight, painful knot of anxiety and a primal, all-consuming need. His wolf, Bane, had been a raging storm all week, his thoughts a constant barrage of demanding, possessive fury. The scent of her, that glorious, intoxicating scent of strawberries and mint, was a phantom presence, a constant tease that kept the wolf on a perpetual, hungry edge.

"Mate," Bane’s voice rumbled, a low, guttural growl that was now a constant, rhythmic drumbeat in Xander’s skull. "I want our mate. I want to be near her. I want to be free."

We will see her soon, Bane, Xander thought, his voice a calm, firm command. And you will be quiet. You will be controlled.

Bane’s response was a dark, venomous laugh. "Controlled? You think you can control me now? Not even the poison can do that anymore, Alexander. The scent, the bond… it is stronger than you. Stronger than the poison."

The sound of heavy, metal doors clanging open announced the arrival of the guards. They were a trio this time, their faces grim and set. They didn’t speak, simply chained him and began the long, silent march to the infirmary. Xander felt an icy calm settling over him, the kind of calm a predator feels before a hunt. He was going to see her again, and this time, he was going to try to do more than just endure the poison. He was going to try to talk to her.

In the infirmary, Olivia stood by the tray, her hands trembling as she held the syringe filled with the cloudy, classified liquid. The two guards who had brought in the vile stood in the corner, their presence a silent, threatening force. She was a professional, but her heart was a wild, frantic thing, a nervous bird trapped in a cage. She had a plan, a series of questions she was going to ask, but she knew that the moment he walked in, all her plans might fly out the window.

The door opened, and he was there. His immense presence seemed to fill the room, and the air, which had been thick with the smell of antiseptic, was now filled with the wild, untamed scent of him—dark woods and cold earth. He was chained, his wrists manacled, but the chains did nothing to diminish the sense of raw, untamed power that emanated from him. His eyes, those impossibly bright blue eyes, were fixed on hers, a burning intensity that made her stomach clench.

She walked toward him, her hand holding the tray, and the moment she was close enough to smell him, to feel the heat of his body, she felt a profound, electric jolt. The air around him was alive with a strange, humming energy, a primal vibration that was both terrifying and utterly thrilling. She could see the muscles in his jaw working, a silent, desperate fight for control.

“Hello, Alexander,” she said, her voice a little shaky, a little softer than she intended. “I’m glad to see you.”

His eyes, those blue eyes that seemed to hold a universe of pain and power, met hers. He didn’t speak, but she could hear it, the low, guttural growl in his chest, a sound that was a constant, simmering vibration.

"Mate," Bane’s voice was a low, possessive hum inside Xander’s head. "She is so close. I want to touch her. I want to feel her."

No, Bane, Xander commanded, the thought a silent, desperate roar. Quiet.

Olivia, ignoring the guards’ grim faces and their silent warnings, put the tray down on the table beside him and, with a gentle, professional air, began to prepare his arm for the injection. “I was looking at your files,” she said, her voice a low, confidential whisper that was meant only for him. “The medication you’re on… it’s classified. And the diagnosis… it doesn’t seem to fit. Do you know what it is?”

Xander’s jaw tightened, and he looked at her with a profound, startled expression. She was not a pawn, not a simple, naive doctor. She was a woman who was digging.

“I… I don’t… I can’t…” he managed to get out, the words a raw, guttural whisper that was a struggle between his own voice and the dark, gravelly sound of Bane.

“Is that what it is?” she asked, her voice now a low, challenging whisper. “A diagnosis? Or is it something else? Is it a way to… control you?”

Xander closed his eyes, his head a battleground of conflicting voices. He wanted to tell her, to tell her everything, to tell her about the lies, the frame-up, the wolfsbane, and the powerful, raging beast that was begging to be free. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t put her in danger. He couldn’t let the warden know she was asking questions.

She took his arm, her touch a light, gentle pressure on his skin, and she found the vein. She could feel the immense, raw power in his arm, the coiled, immense strength that was barely contained beneath his skin. She could also feel whatever is in the syringe beginning to take its effect, a slow, icy burning that made his muscles twitch and clench.

“What is it?” she whispered, her voice full of a genuine, heart-wrenching concern. “What are they doing to you?”

Xander, his eyes still squeezed shut, his face a mask of pain and desperation, finally managed to get out one word, a single, guttural sound that was a half-whisper, a half-snarl, a sound that was both his and Bane’s.

“Nothing,” he said, the words a raw, forced lie born of his desperate need to protect her. He couldn’t tell her the truth. The risk was too great.

Olivia’s eyes widened, a look of frustration and concern on her face. She had been so close, she had been sure he was going to tell her. But he had shut her out, pulled back into himself, a fortress of pain and silence. The guards, their faces grim, were pulling Xander from the table, their time up. They dragged him from the room, leaving Olivia alone with the now-cold syringe and a profound, unsettling feeling of being on the precipice of a truth she couldn't grasp.

The truth a profound, terrifying reality that was far more dangerous than anything in the files. She was no longer dealing with a simple psychological disorder. She was dealing with a man who was hiding something, a man who was in immense pain, and a man who, for some reason, had to be controlled by a classified, unnamed poison. She was no closer to the truth, and the mystery was now more frustratingly palpable than ever before. She was left alone with a thousand unanswered questions and a fierce, growing determination to find the answers.