He pulled against the chains again, harder this time. Stone dust fell from the ring above his wrist. Not enough. Not nearly enough. The drugs in his system were doing the same thing to him they were doing to me, muting the wolf, slowing us down, turning power into nothing.
The third pull made the old wall groan. But nothing else.
He was just wasting time and energy.
Keres was preparing himself for another pull when the steel door between us clicked open, and three people wearing scrubs entered like we were not chained and bleeding against opposite walls.
Two men and a woman wearing gloves up to their wrists, clear masks covering the lower halves of their faces. One carried a metal case. One held a tablet. The woman pushed a narrow cart with labeled vials, syringes and sealed instrum
