Damon sat, head in hands, staring at the floor. Their weakness-or perhaps arrogance—had blinded them to this impending disaster. Now… he gulped, the facts searing his mind like a brand: fifteen weeks or more. Fifteen weeks Mariella had been caged in a space too small to sit, drugged, beaten, raped by countless men. She was broken.
He, too, was broken, feeling less like a pack leader and more like a devastated husband, desperate to see her, hold her, smell her—to do something. But Samuel's magic warned him she might, likely would, shy away from his touch. Overwhelmed, he had no idea what to do next.
They were driving to that small rural town; numbers four, nine, and ten had switched to medical mode, interrogated Samuel, and secured more supplies. They were determined to help the others, but Mariella, while stable and no longer critical, was merely one patient—and not a clinical priority; she was simply weak and broken.
Mimi, however… the thought of Mimi was an oppressive black cloud in Damon's mind, the enormity of what they had done to her too much to bear. He focused instead, entirely, on Mariella.
Silence reigned in their large SUV, which trailed Samuel's impossibly packed van. Adam drove, his jaw clenching periodically as he fought for composure. But the heaviest atmosphere came from Wulfe. His quietude was unsettling; his light grey eyes stared out the window, his withdrawal palpable. The men instinctively sensed a storm brewing beneath the surface, and no one dared speak to him, fearing an explosion.
Charles sat beside Adam, quiet and conflicted. He was a protector, but not for Mimi; Damon was her protector, or perhaps all ten of them were, except him. Yet, their soulmate bond pulled him irresistibly, making everything agonizingly difficult. The drive to the tiny clinic seemed endless.
As their cars finally pulled into the driveway near the loading docks, orderlies waited to unload supplies. They would direct the supplies, then do rounds, or perhaps hear reports from those who'd cared for Mimi.
Charles, barely holding himself together, longed to wrap himself around Mimi, hoping to comfort her as he had in the past. Grimly, he knew this wouldn't magically heal her pain and trauma.
Stepping out into the summer heat, Number Two felt nothing; the burn in his heart and ache in his lower abdomen overshadowed everything. He was producing bump for his baby, meaning Mimi, already, his body yearned to help and heal as much as his mind and soul did.
He was suffering physically because Mimi, having no pheromone glands, had been raped and was dying, unable to tolerate touch except for clinical procedures. She could smell pheromones when awake; he could hold her while sedated, but she was too frail for close contact or nesting. He was her Damon, now and forever, regardless of Number One's actions.
Inside, Will and Jarod waited, their expressions somber and weary. Damon, Number One, was surprised to see Jarod, and a flash of jealousy—Jarod near his alpha female—struck him. Despite Jarod's guidance, Damon felt threatened, his focus shifting from Mariella to Mimi. Entering the ward—a normal hospital ward with multiple beds separated by curtains—Wulfe went straight to Mimi's bed. Without speaking, he crawled beside her, wrapping himself around her and visibly sighing in relief.
Damon surveyed his surroundings: the worn linoleum, cheap curtains, and yellowed blinds spoke of age and neglect, yet he saw potential. The building was functional—the air was clean, the temperature comfortable—and despite its small size, it could become a beacon of hope. He idly considered incorporating it into the Salvatore clinics, leveraging their funds for renovations.
Meanwhile, Will shook his head, observing the Salvatores milling about the ward, an older doctor reviewing numbers at his desk. Numbers four, nine, and ten approached him, while Damon went to see Mariella. Weak and heavily sedated, she was propped up by pillows to ease her contracted muscles. Though Damon longed to be near her, he was relieved by her painless sleep; healing would come later. However, he was unsure how to restore the women's health and help them move forward.
Samuel, witnessing the lack of direction—with Damon and number two inactive—decided to take charge. Wulfe trembled, holding the unresponsive Mimi, who was clearly in dire straits and the first to require treatment.
Colin approached, touching her and pressing his head against hers; four-leaf clovers appeared in his pupils as his leprechaun persona emerged. He murmured in an unintelligible language, likely his leprechaun's tongue.
Before Samuel could speak, number two sharply whistled, seizing control and making Damon look up. "Listen up," he announced. "Let's care for these precious ones. Protectors will tend to their protected, but there's much work for the rest of you. Dresden and Constantine neutralize any residual magic in the patients and this building. Charles, Adam, Lepard, and Demon attend to Elena, Katherine, Mimosa, and Shadow. Damon and some Salvatores are with Mariella, so focus on the others."
He paused before continuing, "Now, number four, Samuel, Colin, and I will review the females, assessing their needs—drugs, nutrition, etc. We'll also conduct new blood tests and analyze their blood scent. Tim, Taylor, Murdock, Dexter, and Alarick, you'll focus on the fusion project to transform this into a supernatural facility. It's tedious, but crucial. Introduce yourselves to the staff, ascertain their skills and comfort levels. We can cooperate with the Magic House; they can take over while we get this project underway. But for now, it's time to be doctors."
Number one lifted his head. "Well, count me in. We have a mountain of work before these ladies can even consider moving in, regardless of the medbay's quality. Let's get cracking. Our precious ladies are in dire straits and desperately need us."
Jarod spoke to Wulfe, sitting beside Mimi. Damon, observing this, noticed Jarod's attentiveness to Mimi, his blood boiling. Though momentarily enraged, he controlled himself; even the thought of Jarod touching Mimi made his eyes flash red.
After a moment, he said, "Jarod, brief the wizards on your knowledge of the magical treatments administered to them. I sense old potions and possibly curses, but you have crucial insight. They can begin cleansing the area; all this residual magic is excruciating. It is literally giving me a headache."
Jarod approached Dresden and Constantine. He recognized the thinly veiled excuse but ignored it, pleased Number One was maintaining the medical focus. Wulfe remained with Mimi, and Number One, seated near the nurses' station, began reviewing patient notes on a tablet. He had not even talked to any of the doctors here. Maintaining a medical focus came easily, adhering to a promise made during their Australian trip, grounding him in his role.
Ten minutes later, Colin approached Damon, saying, "Mimi's very weak; Wulfe seems to be giving her his life force to keep her alive, but we need to find out why she's in such poor condition."
Damon grunted in response, explaining, "It's because her powers are unstable. She normally uses them extensively. I'm trying to figure out how to boost her. We have her rage contained in crystals, and I'm searching for a spell to keep that rage active within her, to strengthen her. Even her primary rage and her other powers are suppressed. It might come down to one of us acting as her battery until her physical recovery progresses significantly."
Colin nodded, adding, "I'll start with my leprechaun drops to see if I can help, but should we move Wulfe, or at least ensure he's not giving her too much of his energy?"
Damon raised an eyebrow, replying, "Farrell, I never thought I'd see the day you were jealous of her, wanting to keep her all to yourself. Let Wulfe be; he's strong and our best option for now. Leave them alone; they're too stressed and traumatized to tolerate being touched. I'm working on a solution for that, but it'll likely take some time, as physical well-being is the priority."
Colin nodded and left to retrieve his drops—anything that might help. Damon then read about Mimi's pulled fangs and sinus problems, realizing they'd need tissue samples to determine if their teeth held a solution, anticipating a surge in dental work in the coming days.
He was surprised to hear Samuel calling his team to prepare to move Bran and treat him elsewhere. Despite Will's assurances, Bran had been deceived, and Samuel was unforgiving. Damon briefly considered Samuel's magic, wondering why he didn't use it more often—perhaps as a distraction for Wulfe.
Wulfe was so stressed that it would take considerable effort to separate him from Mimi, as he'd only made promises to her. Damon felt a pang of jealousy toward Wulfe, who enjoyed complete freedom to act on his desires, unburdened by promises.
He realized he, too, longed to be with Mimi, his mate, wife, and biological half; he had learned to feel this need. However, he had also secretly cast a spell long ago to suppress this need between Mariella and Charles. Mariella, too, belonged only to him, though married to others, she was his, always and forever.
Several plans began forming in his mind, and he also consulted Samuel and other minds to assess their supplies. It was best to take inventory before starting work.
Damon told Number Four, "We need fresh blood samples from each of them—I'm unsure about Bran, as Samuel is about to move him—then we'll see what our fangs can do. We don't have a synthesizer here, meaning we must make every substance ourselves, but there are fourteen of us, so we'll see who does what."
Number Four nodded. Six and seven were already retrieving blood tubes and collection kits for dental substances: large, empty IV bags with tubing and devices resembling nasal cannula prongs, but these tubes were longer and flexible, with membranes. These would be placed in their fangs; the membranes would irritate special cells in the fang tips, causing substances to flow out as if the teeth were in a vein.
However, if necessary, they might have to bite directly into someone's neck, as some substances could only be administered intravenously, since fangs constantly analyze blood while adjusting the substances.
It was a complex process to explain, Damon mused, wondering how he would explain it to human doctors if necessary. He knew they had a great deal of work ahead and perhaps time later to reflect on what happened and how to prevent it. His arrogance and oversight had allowed this to happen, but he would learn, and so would his enemies.
He had no idea who was behind the kidnapping; the witches had rented the women from a man who supplied victims for torture and abuse. Other enemies had also tortured Mimi, and despite Damon's attempts to probe her mind, her memories were vague—no faces, no voices.
He knew Mimi had given her blood to erase or lessen the trauma, but he felt he might have a better chance if he could see the whole picture. The concept was new to him: this man didn't have a personal grudge against them; he rented victims to various enemies, indicating a larger operation.
The car they used had no GPS, so their location was unknown. It turned out to be an old mine—and old mines were plentiful in Utah. He would try to probe Mimi's mind, but Wulfe protected her fiercely, allowing no one access.
It would take time, patience, and perseverance to get everyone to recover and eventually tolerate touch, learning to love again. Damon wasn't sure how they would accomplish that; the trauma was so deep it had broken even Mimi, who was usually resistant to manipulation.
He vowed to find a way to heal her, to help her see sunshine and love again. Perhaps then they could have another long trip. Mariella would need physiotherapy, so he would enlist Magnum. This was fortunate, as Damon's presence might be upsetting given Mariella's likely soreness after waking, considering the work done while sedated.
Mariella would need to do some of the work herself—a brutal and painful process. Magnum, with his skills and patience, would be the perfect physiotherapist to help mend her.
Mimi was extremely thin, a mere freaking skeleton, and her body didn't process nutrients well in this kind of depleted state. They'd given her subcutaneously bump deposits of centrifuged bump as they had had some for her to boost her, but she'd used them up quickly.
He knew that at least number two was constantly producing a new bump for Mimi, and he could too. Mimi would need every drop of bump they could produce, and lots of other stuff too, making her nutritional plan a top priority for Salvatore.
He had read about five enzyme transplants, but as she was so depleted, those hardly survived; they had plenty of enzymes with them, but right now, she had to get a little better for those to stick.
Mimosa, Elena, Shadow, and Katherine had feeding tubes and were receiving organ mash, resulting in some weight gain—a positive sign. However, Damon's discovery of extensive trauma to their genitals and reproductive systems made him physically ill. He knew that immortal creatures abused in such a way had likely been repeatedly raped, meaning their trauma would be extremely difficult to erase and might make it hard to find pleasure in sex again.
Fifteen weeks of fucking rape were horrific and cruel; overcoming such trauma would likely require more than memory erasure, as it went far deeper than simple memories. As a telepath, Damon understood the nature of trauma and how deeply it could embed itself, having used his abilities in the past to ensure lessons were learned.
The task seemed impossible, and he pinched his nose. It was best to focus on the present, addressing one freaking physical problem at a time and seeing where that led, postponing future therapies until later. He refused to delve fully into Mimi's files, fearing a complete breakdown, and now wasn't the time.
He just could not read about reports Mimi being raped or tortured in great detail. It was time to put on his doctor's coat, adopt a clinical attitude, and deal with immediate issues such as infections, malnutrition, infected wounds, missing teeth, and vaginal trauma.
He realized he had changed profoundly—a change that filled him with pride. He was no longer the weakling who crumbled at the sight of Mariella's illness; instead, he was supporting his entire pack. This was another step forward on his arduous journey, but he had Mariella, Mimi, and the best pack a wolf could hope for.
He was determined to be worthy of their leadership, to guide them through this crisis and prepare them for the next challenge, and for revenge. Once he discovered who was behind the attack, he, as pack leader and alpha male, would take personal responsibility for raining hell on those who had harmed his mate, his wives, and his pack. That coven would be burned to ashes.