Chapter 424: Thousands of Glittering Knives
Zagan walked ahead of Penelope the rest of the way to the containment facility, pretending not to notice when she started to slow down from fatigue. He kept going, determined to get there without coming too close to her again. It made him uneasy—whatever it was about her that he couldn’t quite understand. It was like a mystery that he didn’t want to solve but that drew him in nonetheless.
When they finally arrived to the walkway where the two wings of the facility flared out on either side of the entry, he paused at last and waited for her to catch up. She hadn’t complained at all about his speed, but when she finally arrived by his side, she was out of breath with a thin glistening layer of sweat on her skin. She looked radiant, and her scent had intensified from the exertion. Zagan silently cursed himself.
"Wow," she huffed, arms akimbo as she allowed herself to catch her breath.
"It was Nedra’s idea," he said, appreciating the building once more before continuing toward the entryway.
There was one lycan at the desk when they entered, but he had fallen asleep in his chair—a hat pulled down over his face to cover his eyes.
"Perhaps I should let all the strays go as well," Zagan mumbled and kicked the chair that was on wheels, causing it roll away from its place behind the desk. The male did not wake. "Unbelievable."
"Are the strays prisoners as well?" Penelope asked from behind him as he led the way to the elevator.
"No. They can come and go as they please. They have no official leader here or off the island, so their time is their own. But if they want my protection, they remain here most of the time and participate in the tasks I set."
"Want your protection from what?" She asked, following him into the small space of the elevator and gazing up at his grey eyes that had become distant and disinterested.
"From anything," he answered, avoiding her gaze.
"From other lycans?" She asked, imagining what scenarios he may be called upon to intervene in.
"Sometimes," he said vaguely. "Although, like all lycans, strays are very proud. And they are even more stubborn when it comes to admitting that they need help, because the very essence of their identity revolves around the fact that they have turned their backs on pack life. They prefer to be alone and to handle things on their own. They resent when they do end up needing someone. So it is rare that they ask me for help."
"Then why do they stay? If they prefer to be alone and they are unlikely to ask for your help or protection, then what is the benefit?" She asked as a soft tone sounded to indicate the elevator had arrived on the desired floor.
"Because whether they know it or not, they are pack animals to their core. I offer them what no other pack can: the ability to be both a stray and a member. They are not forced into one box here with me," he said, finally glancing down to catch her gaze.
"I see," she frowned and followed him out.
Why did his explanation sound so reasonable? It was not an honorable thing to be a stray—to abandon your pack and the members who relied on each and every individual to contribute to the whole. But if they were all resistant to being placed in a box—well, that wasn’t a bad thing. And perhaps some of them left their packs because they had no choice. Perhaps they were like the alyko in that way. If that were the case, then Penelope could definitely understand. And that would make Zagan’s island a kind of refuge for misfits, wouldn’t it?
"This was inner containment. This was where the powerful alyko were kept," he said, extending his arms out to present the empty space. "As you can see, they are no longer here."
Penelope walked past Zagan, her shoes crunching on the shattered glass that sparkled everywhere like miniature crystals. "What happened here? Why are the walls broken?"
"I do not know," he admitted. "If any of them were capable of this, they would not have been contained for long—even in here. Perhaps it was Nedra who did it. But as you can see, I kept my word. They have been set free."
Penelope walked forward toward the atrium where the ancient tree twisted upward, glass scattering from her feet as she did. "What a beautiful old tree," she said, her feet stopping near the very edge where the floor ceased and gave way to the open space of the atrium.
Zagan’s eyes narrowed in on this, his muscles twitching at the ready to spring forward if necessary. Why was she so careless? Didn’t she anticipate the possibility of a fall? All he needed was for her to break a bone or get even so much as a paper cut. Who knows if he would be able to control himself with her blood exposed to the air?
Suddenly a cascade of potential scenarios that involved Penelope getting injured and spilling blood out into the open exploded into his mind, and then he could anticipate the monster he would become—especially with him surviving on rabbit blood these days. Perhaps this trip was a very bad idea.
"Did you plant it?" Penelope asked, angling her body to glance back at him as more glass scattered around her like thousands of knives waiting to slice into her delicate skin.
Zagan swallowed with some difficulty, pushing down the image of her injured and the infinite number of ways it could happen. "No, Nedra did."
Penelope turned back to admire it again, her one foot sliding on the glass as she did and throwing her off balance for a split second. That’s all it took. Zagan sped forward the instant her shoe glided along the glass rather than crunched on it, preventing her fall by catching her in his arms. And then when he saw her round eyes staring up at his in shock and a soft gasp escaping her lips, he carefully let her go.
"We should get back," he said, clearing his throat as he stepped away from her and lifted his gaze to the old tree.
