I was in my new study at Pennsylvania Manor, immersed in work and trying to assign as many people as possible to various tasks.
Damon had warned me I’d be busy for at least a year, though I had no idea what he was planning.
It wasn’t as simple as making a phone call and ordering someone to handle a task.
For instance, I had to ensure they were genuinely committed and wouldn’t try to shift the responsibility or procrastinate.
Even within an organization as large as mine, finding such dedicated individuals was rare.
Lost in my thoughts, I was almost startled when the door to my study opened, and Wulfe walked in.
He paused at the doorway, looking uncertain and avoiding my gaze initially.
Seeing him, I smiled and said, “Thank God you’re okay. I almost lost you, do you hear me? I almost lost you!”
My voice carried a tension that finally made him look at me.
He walked over and hugged me tightly, saying nothing.
I could feel him delving into my mind, attempting to soothe my distress, understanding what had happened and blaming himself for being weak.
As our bond flared between us once more, like wildfire, I spoke, my voice thick with emotion.
“It was Sark’s fault, not your fault. But see, I told you, they can get to you too. I will protect you as much as I can.”
Despite all that Damon and I had gone through, this incident had left deep scars on my soul, scars I hadn’t shown Damon.
Yet, with Wulfe near me, hugging me, smelling him, I felt an overwhelming relief that almost made me feel weak.
“Yes, a lesson learned,” Wulfe replied.
“But my unicorn, you can be sure I’ve addressed that. I’ve told them everything I recall about our time in that facility. We’ve had all the drugs, Salvatores, Colin, and even Samuel crafting potions and antidotes to ensure this won’t happen again. I’ve also rearranged my magic, hiding it deeper so no drug can affect me as strongly. Now, how are you?”
I could feel him probing my darkness, my killer instincts, my vampire side, adding more layers to keep them contained.
Even though much of my darkness had been harvested from others, I still had plenty left, and Wulfe was truly helping me push it down.
He said to me, “What Damon did to you, nausea, well, we all have it, as now I understand that the pleasure you feel is a bit warped, as it is instilled in you via drugs, so we will make sure it does not get stronger. And since Krycheck worked for all of us, we have the same insurance that he did; he tried to make us feel the same. So if that particular sense of pleasure is trying to hit, nausea will follow, even for me. And it is all good now, your bloodlust? What you drink, how much, and how bad it is.”
I was a bit surprised by the whole damn notion, but it was what it was.
I gave Wulfe the rest of my blood jug, which I had been sipping.
I was not so bloodthirsty, but I kept the jug and sipped almost all the time, not just once a week, but I spread my dose so I could have it all the time, keeping my bloodlust a bit steadier.
Wulfe sipped my blood mix and hummed; he closed his eyes, and I could again feel him in my mind.
“Fine, let me get you a more suitable one; this sipping method does not really help, as you need to quench your thirst once and for all, not let it simmer all the time. I will be right back. And then I will help you with work. We have a little over a week to fix everything, and even I have no idea what kind of adventure awaits, but let’s make sure we are fit as a fiddle for it.”
As he walked away, I rolled my eyes and refocused on finding a crew to handle the warehouses.
My usual team was on holiday, and their return was uncertain, so I needed to find someone available and committed to managing the usual post-mission influx of goods.
It wasn’t easy.
With my email open, I was attempting to resolve multiple issues.
Just as I finished one task and opened my next email, I saw it was from the NSA.
They claimed the tapes were perfect for incriminating Sark and, having recently formed a division focused on threats like him, they wanted my input and involvement in certain missions.
Moreover, they requested specialized equipment, including shed session machines, and drugs like “blue sleep” or other sedatives, as well as pharmaceutical panic drugs, none of which they had previously gotten. Find the original chapter at novelping.com.
I took a breath; this was incredibly difficult.
I closed the email, leaned back, and considered my options.
There was no obligation to comply, and no immediate consequences for refusal.
However, would this provide the NSA and others with evidence against Sark and Krycheck?
What was the risk of this plan backfiring?
Since everyone else was unavailable, I had very few people to ask.
Reality hit me once more: this was my organization, my decision.
Suddenly, Damon’s voice echoed in my mind, “We handle the NSA. Send that email to me; we’ll decide what to provide and ensure it doesn’t backfire.”
I rolled my eyes, feeling as though I was being monitored.
Damon’s calm voice continued, “I feel your distress, my love, and when I do, I will check on you; you can be sure. Now send me the files; we’ll review them with the Salvatores and see what will be beneficial.”
I sent an email to him, letting him handle it; fine by me, and then I once again focused on finding crew for my warehouse project.
I paid no attention, but the smell of blood wafted to my nose as Wulfe walked in, carrying two five-liter jugs and a couple of glasses, my crystal ones.
He said to me, “Helen, Hannah, and Cecile are free; let them deal with warehouses. Greg is on holiday, and Timothy and Sanders are, so the girls can handle them, and they will make stuff happen. Now, my unicorn, put your work aside a bit, and let’s have some blood. Put some music on, and let’s relax a bit.”
Well, he had a good idea, so I sent a message to the girls, assigning them to warehouses, and then I put a playlist on.
Bad Boy’s Blue, “You’re a Woman,” was the first song as I walked to the chair where Wulfe had placed my jug and sat down, pouring my glass and sipping.
It was uberstrong, and it almost made me cough, but soon warmth and a sense of certain power started to spread in my belly as I sipped some more of this delicious blood mix.
We sat in comfortable silence, simply gazing at each other and feeling our bond strengthen.
Wulfe appeared weary, yet thrilled, as if he had endured a desperate struggle and was now content to be by my side.
Although I was unsure of Damon’s plans, I suspected Wulfe would ensure he remained close, a prospect I welcomed.
Wulfe then scanned my mind, erasing memories of the facility, along with the associated sensations and darkness.
I felt his determination to suppress not only those feelings but also my other, darker impulses, including my rage.
He had rarely interfered with my rage before.
Now, however, he had helped construct a new mental system with Salvatore, but he had never actively pushed my rage into such a deep hibernation.
While I needed some of it to function, he was also establishing limits, ensuring our new connection remained active.
As I focused, I realized Salvatore and Mariella were integral to this network, and Wulfe was partially merging it with the Hive, re-establishing our connection in a novel way.
As the pack grew more active, I could sense what each member was doing.
For instance, Dresden was with Mariella at Magic House, educating witches and assessing them as potential enemies while ensuring the house played its part.
Simultaneously, Tim, Taylor, Alaric, Adam, and Charles were also engaged in education, albeit with different goals.
They were teaching “nice sarks” how to locate “nasty sarks” and understand their security measures.
To motivate the “nice sarks” beyond mere academic curiosity, they were given certain items, ensuring they had a genuine incentive to participate.
I didn’t probe further, allowing everyone to focus on their tasks.
I learned that “Number One” had assigned everyone their duties for the upcoming two weeks, leaving the subsequent plans a complete mystery, even to other salvatores.
I then sent a powerful surge of love to Wulfe, which reached him instantly.
We sat there, drinking blood and feeling the strength of our bond.
In that moment, words and superficial emotions were unnecessary; we communicated directly through our connection.
Wulfe then said, “You hear me? No matter what Damon did, you are mine. But if you want to understand why he acted as he did, know it wasn’t merely an animalistic reaction to your condition.”
I nodded, replying, “Let’s just say it was one of the most exotic experiences of my life. He then lived with me in Moldova, nesting there.”
This only brought a smile to Wulfe’s face.
He explained, “You were running out of love due to the actions of the Sarks, Krycheck, and others. As a creature of love, you had dispersed it too widely, putting you at risk of falling into a coma. This was the best way to ensure you received deep, enduring love that had stood the test of time and challenges, love that had grown and that you desperately needed. He provided it, making sure you were his first.”
I remained silent, contemplating the entire ordeal.
It had undoubtedly been a deeply messed-up situation, and it had taken a significant toll on all of us.
Still, I asked, “And my darkness? Did you get it all out? And the memories, I know many of us had a blast killing, and it had nothing to do with Krycheck’s programming, but with my darkness. And how long did it take everyone to recover? I mean, where do we stand? I’m not even sure myself.”
Wulfe assured me, “Everyone is fine. The Salvatores sucked every bit of your darkness out of us, locked it in crystals, and now those crystals are enchanted so you can’t get your darkness back. Instead, it will be used for spells, potions, and curses directed at the Sarks. We also have their DNA now, and a little more understanding of their hive for Krycheck. No one is blaming you or afraid of you. And yes, it took a few wonderful months to get us back to our former glory. Let’s just say Mariella might be mighty tired of some of us, like Magnum or Taylor, who were in terrible shape, stubborn, and also too lazy to move as much as they could.”
He smiled at me, sending even more love through our bond.
I let my love flood back to him; this connection was so perfect that I could maintain it for a long time with no major issues.
I knew we were connected, and it brought such peace to my heart.
I also realized that I hadn’t had the time to fully process the whole damn experience.
Sure, most of my memories had faded or been completely removed, ensuring that no new nightmares would arise from this.
All the while, Wulfe and several Salvatores were on my mind, checking for any lingering triggers.
Since they had no idea how many Krycheck had originally put in there, he might have added some new ones or tried to activate old ones.
So, there I was, being cared for once again, and it wasn’t a bad thing at all.
Wulfe explained, “As you can feel, our new network is now a hive, which strengthens our connections significantly. We’ve preserved most of your willpower, but each of us contributed a portion of our own, forging it into the pack’s collective will. It’s now thrumming with power, so next time we require your rage, the pack’s will can control it. However, this will only occur under the most extreme conditions, when your rage or darker impulses are unleashed, and the decision won’t be yours, but the pack’s.”
I nodded in understanding.
“I understand. My powers, my instincts, and my darker sides are potent and alluring, and not everyone is equipped to handle them.”
He smiled warmly.
“I’ve got you, baby, and Salvatore has your back. You are not alone; it’s not you against the world. It’s our pack united against the evils of the world. And let’s just say, several Salvatores, along with the magic house and even Bran, are all currently dealing with the press as the spotlight is on us. It might be that you, well, all of us, will be somewhat celebrities for the time being, so prepare yourself.”
This news elicited a sigh from me.
I was hardly in the mood for another stint as an “American sweetheart,” regardless of what the Pack believed.
Yet, did I truly have a choice?
This was something I had learned in our time in the pocket universe, and it was, simply put, part of my life and managing me.
As it was, I was originally made out to be a rabid killer, but the universe made sure that didn’t happen.
So, I got the Salvatores, and Wulfe, and so many others.
Sure, it took them time to truly learn their purpose, but once they did, let’s just say my mind was more or less their playground, in the best possible way.
Instead of a killer, I was a creature of love, someone who had been prophesied.
And from time to time, as I recalled my small, insignificant human life and saw where I was today, my life had been pretty damn wild.