**Warning: This chapter contains detailed violence. Beware.**

I jolt awake hours later as ice cold water washes over me. As I scramble to my feet, gasping for air, a chorus of laughter echoes around the room.

"Did you enjoy your shower?" the nearest handler asks, a dripping bucket still hanging from her fist.

I don't answer. Probably couldn't if I wanted to. Not through my chattering teeth. How did I oversleep in the first place? I'm always one of the first up.

Then, the night before comes rushing back. I search the stall with my eyes, but Fell isn't there. Thank God. The handlers would have beat him near-death if they found him with me.

"What are you looking for?" the handler snaps. "Let's go!"

The thin layer of hay crunches under my feet as I meet her at the door and extend my hands.

"Where is she going?" A second voice asks from behind me.

Fell sits in the center of his pen, legs stretched out in front of him and arms holding him up. He's managed to find a spot of sun and is basking in it, shirtless.

"Training." The handler finishes cuffing me and then pulls me out of the pen. "As if it's any of your business."

Fell shrugs, but as I glance back at him, he's eyeing me carefully. The same worried expression that he had last night is now plastered across his face. I want to reassure him, tell him I can handle a little training, but I know better than to talk to him. Not in front of the handlers.

So, I keep my head low and let them lead me out.

The morning sun has lit up the front lawn of the estate. Frost shimmers on the grass, glittering like a thousand diamonds. As we cross it, the ice crunches under my bare feet. The cold would generally hurt, but the soles of my feet are reinforced. Padded, I think is the correct term.

Either way, I brave looking around as we walk to the training area on the other side of the property.

Spring must be here. The willows have bloomed, and now, pink tendrils of hair tickle the ground. A layer of pastel pink and while coats the shade of each tree. In the distance, pink, yellow, and orange tulips line the main house's porch. Yellow buttercups line the long gravel driveway. They dance in the morning breeze. Topped off by the brilliant morning sun's reflection, the scene is gorgeous.

If you ignore the barbed wire fence in the background, an acre in the distance. My ears pick up the hum of electricity as it grows louder with our approach. The main house disappears behind us and all that's left is empty space and sharp steel.

"Wayler will be here, right?" a handler asks.

"Yeah. He's just finishing up his breakfast."

"Alright. We'll head back and feed the animals. You can get her started, right?"

The female who led me all this way nods. "I got it. Go ahead." She attached my chain to a metal rod sticking up out of the ground. A collar hangs from a hook beside it. I sweat just looking at the contraption.

"Call us if anything happens," the man calls from a good distance away. I watch them go, tilting my chin upwards so she can fit the collar properly. The outer side is leather with holes along the surface so all of us Drecks can share it. The inside, though, is soft velvet. The wires set me off the most. They snake under the fabric and press into the fragile skin of my neck.

"Same warm-up as always," she says, emotionless. "Five laps around the fence. All the way."

I look down the length of the metal barrier and sigh. This has to be the best part. I'm three-quarters wolf; why wouldn't I love running?

"What are you waiting for? Go."

With a nod, I take off at a slow jog. My muscles scream in joy as they heat up. Step after step, my feet move a little faster, the wind wrapping itself around my bare arms and legs like a hug. My arms swing at my sides; my hands cup invisible eggs. No one has to tell me that my form is perfect. I can feel that much from the painless, refreshing movement.

It's the best I've felt in days.

I circle around the front lawn, past the heavy, black metal gate and towards the back of the barn. I skirt around The Hole. The backyard rises into view, a blanket of perfect grass. Yet, I focus on the trees beyond the fence.

Thousands of conifers stretch towards the horizon, endless green peaks rolling with the hills. If there's anything in those woods, it's impossible to tell. The area is too dense. Birds call out to me as I approach, greeting me like an old friend. My steps slow.

What would happen if I jumped the fence? The voltage probably isn't enough to kill me. By the time the handlers realized what happened, I would have the collar off and be a hundred miles away from The Estate. Nothing between me and freedom but the ground. Nothing to stop me from surviving alone, from exploring the world, from returning home...

Endless possibilities lie on the other side of that fence.

But something more important is over here.

I could never leave without Fell.

Before I know it, I've finished my laps. The handler waits for me, poking at the screen of her silver device. She looks up at my approach.

"About time. Let's go!"

What happened to the calm girl from before? It didn't take me that long.

"There's my champ," a nectar-sweet voice chimes. Goosebumps erupt all over my body.

Wayler strides up to us, dragging a chain behind him. Attached to it is the coyote. He's fighting tooth and nail against Wayler's pulling, but the grown man has an upper hand in both strength and size. The pup's whining drowns out the sharp clicking of metal on metal as his chain is jerked over and over.

"Training today is going to be a little..." Wayler searches for the right word as he hooks the coyote up to the same metal rod that my now limp chain hangs on. "Different." He lets go of the chain, and the boy takes off sprinting. I wince as he's jerked back, slamming back-first into the grass.

"I decided to kill two birds with one stone." The trader laughs, but the joke is lost on me. "You see, seven-seventy-two, your close cousin here decided to try and escape last night."

The poor coyote has curled into a ball on the ground, his knees pulled in close to his chest. He's somehow managed to sit as far as the chain will allow. Our eyes meet, and I can't help but shake my head. Foolish move. If I did that and was caught, Wayler would have me holed up for a week solid. Just last winter, he did that exact thing to the shark across The Barn. Charia was a good fighter, though. The coyote hasn't even gotten to The Arena yet.

"So he needs to be punished, and you need to be trained. Do you see where I'm going?" Wayler moves to the side and crosses his arms over his chest.

I look between the two of them, realization finally dawning on me.

"No," I mutter, backing away from the two of them. "Please, no."

Wayler smirks. "You don't get a say in this. Neither of you do."

I back away even farther, hands flying to the collar on my neck. If I could just get it off. Erase the chance of being tortured into submission this one time.

Facing a Dreck in The Arena is one thing. I never know their names, don't share a house with them, and definitely don't listen to them whine at night. This is... too close.

"Seven-seventy-two, don't be stupid." Wayler has his own silver device in his hand. The screen is lit up brightly. My hands start to shake with vicious tremors. "It's easy. He shouldn't even be as difficult as some of your past opponents."

The coyote whines, and I have to turn my head away from the both of them.

"No."

Wayler's at my side in a second. His fingers grip my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. They're landslides and earthquakes, a dust storm waiting to engulf me. His manicured nails dig into my skin. His proximity makes me weak in the knees, and my resolve cracks.

"I told you to never argue with me," he growls, deep and sinister. "You know how this works. I'm telling you to kill that monstrosity. Are you going to do it, or am I going to lose two Drecks today?"

I hold my ground, trying not to breathe in the citrus he exhales. I can't. I won't. Not this time. He won't kill me; I'm worth too much.

"Gemma—" He never breaks eye contact. "The collar."

The handler nods and types something into her device. At once, a horrible sound fills the air. The pitch is enough to shatter glass, but no one else in the area seems to hear it. Or at least they don't act like they can. I, on the other hand, slam my eyes closed and curl my toes in pain.

"How about now?"

"No!" I screech, trying to be heard over the sound.

Gemma must turn it up, because the sound that follows is even worse. It fills every empty space in my body, surrounding me like a hurricane. A thousand knives drive themselves into my temple. I'm blind and deaf. The sound is everything and nothing at the same time, an unbearable white hot sound that bores continuously into my skull.

My knees slam into the ground, and I claw uselessly at the leather collar.

"Stop," I whine, breathless and cold. My fingers slip in the rivers of sweat pouring over me. "Make it stop!"

"Gemma."

The sound only intensifies. Parts of my body start to go numb from the pain. The waves of sounds slam into my body, over and over and over, until they're all I feel, a rhythmic and constant heartbeat. I'm aware of my mouth gaping open, but whatever sound's coming out, I could never know.

Then, suddenly, it stops.

I gasp for air but don't open my eyes. It's still ringing, but the torrent has ceased.

"Get up," Wayler says.

This time, I don't hesitate. My static legs fumble under my own weight as I pick myself up off the ground. My hands slide against the grass, coated in sweat. I breathe in enormous gulps. Muscles I didn't even know could hurt are aching.

Wayler points a slender finger at the shivering, tiny Dreck. "Kill him."

My chin trembles. Was I crying before? I want to stop. More than I've ever wanted anything else in my life. I wish I could make my brain listen to my heart, but the ringing in my ears drives me forward.

Would it be better to let Wayler kill me?

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, kneeling beside the coyote. My hands run down the sides of his head and come to a rest on his shoulders. The words come out in tearful bursts. "I am so sorry."

"Don't," he pleads, looking up at me. "Please, don't."

My fingers twitch.

I don't want to die.

Yet, I don't want to kill.

"Do it!" Wayler screams behind me. I jump, hands flying to the boy's neck. He starts to whimper and slams his eyes closed.

"I have to," I say, doing what I can to shove the emotion out of this. Where's the monster in me when I need her? Where's the beast that fights in The Arena?

She left the room when she saw his tears.

"I have to," I say, empty and flat.

I don't want to die. Not like this.

In one swift movement, I snap the boy's neck, holding his head upright in my hands. I dissolve into sobs as the handler jerks me away, dragging my useless body across the grass by my wrists.

It's then that I know, Fell and I can't stay here.