Rogue blinked her way to consciousness, then immediately wished to be knocked out again. Her head pounded unbearably, and she didn’t dare move for fear it would send new waves of pain coursing through her. Her mouth was dry, but at least she could breathe, shallowly, without too much pain.
She had been moved, probably deeper into the valley. She now lay in a clearing densely surrounded by forest. But it was still early afternoon, judging by the sun. She couldn’t have been out long. Why would Sabertooth drag her out here and leave her in the woods? Hell, why would Sabertooth leave her alive?
Rogue caught some movement in the corner of her eye and turned her head to it. The massive mutant was skulking towards her, lips twisted and teeth bared in an expression too depraved to be called a smile. “Good, you’re awake,” he purred. “I wanted you to be awake for it.”
Rogue’s stomach turned at his words, and she pushed Marie down, deep into the recesses of her mind. She didn’t want Marie to experience this, needed some pure piece of herself to cling to, in case she somehow managed to survive. Pain be damned, she felt adrenaline surge through her body and knew her only hope was to move, fast, go—
But she couldn’t. She looked down over herself, finding her ankles and wrists shackled. Her heart sank. Not again. At least this time the cuffs wouldn’t be able to cut into her skin and leave scars. She strained against the thick metal, but her already throbbing shoulder lit up in agony. She was too weak to even break the chains, much less fly. Perhaps, if she could just get back to full strength . . .
But he was over her now. Always panting, the stale smell of his breath filling the air and making her gag. She squirmed helplessly, then realized with a pang of disgust that was probably what he wanted. Sure enough, his breath quickened at the sight of her writhing body, and he almost reached out to grab her bare arm before he remembered and jerked his hand away.
Rogue managed a weak laugh. “Just try it, fleabag,” she ground out. “Kiss me, I dare ya.”
“GRRR!!” He snarled angrily and kicked her again, and though the pain drew fresh tears, she laughed at his back as he retreated.
“Tsk, tsk, Sabertooth,” Mystique’s liquid tone slinked into the air from somewhere close by. “Don’t break her yet. You’ll ruin my plans.”
Rogue did not like the sound of that. Plans? The last time she got involved in the Brotherhood’s plans, she wound up with white-streaked hair and a head full of holocaust atrocities. Lucky for her, Cyclops had blasted their damn machine to bits before they could sacrifice her in it. Even so, she was not keen on repeating the experience.
Sabertooth growled. “Bitch gets her strength back and those chains ain’t gonna hold her no more. I say we kill her now.”
Mystique came to stand over her, and Rogue looked up into those eerie yellow eyes, refusing to show fear. Mystique smirked. Her voice was silken, “I don’t want to kill her. I want to destroy her.” She glared down at Rogue for a moment more, then turned to Sabertooth. “Fetch them.”
He nodded, and ran off into the woods.
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The Blackbird couldn’t touch down soon enough for Logan’s tastes. Proud he didn’t toss his cookies during One-Eye’s rough landing, he hurried down the ramp and onto solid ground. He took a moment to get his bearings, looking out over the lake, the little cabin, the trees all lit up with the fiery afternoon sun. Damn, it was beautiful. Hard to imagine Rogue could be out here somewhere, unconscious or worse.
The wind blew a scent in his direction, and he recognized it, remembering why he was here. Cyclops and Beast followed him to Rogue’s cabin.
Logan climbed onto the porch, taking in the empty coffee mug, imagining the pretty southern woman who must have been out here this morning, enjoying what was supposed to be a relaxing vacation. He looked out towards the lake. His eye caught on her bare footprints at the water’s edge. He could almost see her, standing out there, and was stunned to feel his throat tighten at the thought. He shook his head. He’d find her. He didn’t know why, but he had to find her.
“The doors are locked.” McCoy’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.
“Not for long.” He turned and popped a claw, cutting out the deadbolt and door handle in one smooth swipe.
The three X-men surveyed the cabin quickly, finding little of interest. Nothing to give a clue of Rogue’s whereabouts. Logan took a swig of the Gentleman Jack she considerately left on the bathtub ledge and popped his neck a few times. Looked like it was up to him. He pulled the scarf from his pocket to bring her scent back to the forefront of his mind, and concentrated on tracking it.
Letting instinct take over, he walked out of the front door and started down the footpath, then glanced back to find Cyclops and Beast looking at him expectantly. Idiots. “Well? You comin’ or what?”
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Mystique sighed delicately, letting the hunting knife drop from her gloved hands. “If it weren’t for that invulnerable skin of yours . . . . Oh well. I’ll just have to be creative.”
Rogue tested the metal cuffs again. They still wouldn’t budge. Trying to crawl away would only piss off her captors. And massive hulking body and sharp claws notwithstanding, she knew Mystique was more dangerous than Sabertooth any day. Better to just keep still and hope for her strength to return.
Mystique was digging through a large bag. Rogue looked away, not sure she even wanted to know what was inside it. Then Mystique returned with . . . a gasoline jug? What, was she going to burn the forest down? Surely she knew that Rogue’s skin was as impervious to fire as it was to knives. Though she supposed that wouldn’t stop her insides from boiling. Oh God.
“Sabertooth should be returning any moment now.” Mystique opened the jug and began to pour.
Rogue felt warm, thick, sticky liquid splash over her bare arms, down her chest, drenching her ripped jeans. She looked down at her body and cringed. Was that—was that blood?
Then the smell hit her, thick and metallic, and the feel of it, stringy as it began to congeal on her skin. Definitely blood. She didn’t want to think about where it came from or why this was happening. She just hurt everywhere, and she was so tired, and those damned shackles still refused to budge.
Then she heard it. Footsteps, several of them tearing through the woods, rapidly approaching. The X-men? she allowed herself to hope. Maybe she was saved, maybe they had come to—no. No.
It wasn’t her teammates approaching through those woods. And there were way more than several of them. Sabertooth stopped at the edge of the clearning, and Rogue looked out into the dizzying number of golden eyes behind him, all trained on her. The wolves whimpered and slobbered and whined, waiting for him to give the signal, it seemed.
Rogue froze, heart pounding. As if the adrenaline level in her body could get any higher. She began to squirm again, uselessly trying to get upright, and looked up just in time to see Mystique overturn the jug, dumping the last of its contents on her head. She closed her eyes, spitting and gagging and gulping in breaths of air that sent bolts of pain through her ribs.
Rogue didn’t want to give them the satisfaction, but she couldn’t help it as the gulps of air became jerkier, and started coming out as sobs. “Oh God oh God oh God. Why?” she asked, unable to open her eyes for fear that the blood would get in them.
“Why?” Mystique echoed. “You want to know why?”
Rogue heard the wolves growling and snapping, growing impatient. “Mystique, please. Don’t do this. Please, Mama—”
“You betrayed me,” her voice was low, but it trembled with anger. “I’m not your mama.”
“Don’t say that! I may have left the Brotherhood, but—”
“After all I did for you,” her voice trembled again, “you threw me to the wolves, Rogue. Payback’s a bitch.”
As Rogue heard their footsteps retreat, she summoned every last ounce of strength to get to her knees. She half-crawled, half-dragged her body across the clearing, but it was hopeless. She felt the first bite close around her leg, and then the entire pack was upon her.
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Logan had followed the scent down to the front lodge, then north up a mulch-covered footpath. Rogue’s trail was pretty fresh, which made it much easier to follow even without a complete imprint of her scent. He hurried along the footpath, barely aware of the two men following him. When a dirt trail forked off from the main path, he took it.
The woods had just begun to grow thicker, the trail rougher, when a gust of wind assaulted his senses and froze him in his tracks.
Beast and Cyclops stopped behind him. “What?” the latter asked, sounding out of breath. “What is it, Logan?”
The question registered belatedly, and he managed to respond, “Blood. A lot of it.” Then Logan tore down the path, trees a blur of colors as they flew past his vision. The path swerved left and he swerved with it, claws dragging the ground for leverage as he climbed. He hadn’t even realized they had come out.
He slid to a stop at the edge of a cliff, looking down over a massive valley. Blood and fear. So thick it overwhelmed his senses. She had to be down there somewhere.
“I have to get down there,” he growled to no one in particular.
“This way,” Beast said from somewhere behind him. “We can circle around—”
Screw that. He wasn’t about to waste another second. Rogue might not have one to spare. He jumped, extending an arm behind him to let his claws scrape the face of the cliff, slowing his descent. He landed seconds later on his feet, thankful for the metal skeleton that kept his legs from fracturing on impact. A few gashes from the rough stones, but they healed as he ran.
He shot past the treeline, perfectly in his element as he dodged exposed roots and low-hanging branches without slowing for a moment. The metallic tang of blood grew so strong he could almost taste it, and as he approached its source he began to hear noises. Growls, snarls, vicious bestial sounds. Then there were yelps of pain. Then whimpers, growing softer and softer. Then more snarls that faded to whimpers. What the hell?
He smelled something else now, almost as strong as the blood. There had to be at least twenty of them, dogs, or perhaps wolves? He remembered Cyclops saying this was some kind of wildlife reserve.
He couldn’t even smell Rogue anymore under all the other information flooding his senses. He wondered if he’d made a mistake, if he was going the wrong way. Then he heard a horrible cry. He’d know that sound anywhere.
It was the same cry he’d heard when she touched Sabertooth.
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Rogue’s entire world was reduced to pain: the feel of teeth digging into flesh, jaws shaking and snapping in rage as they failed to puncture her unbreakable skin. Then, after a few seconds, the pull, the feel of the beasts clinging greedily to her even as she drained their life from them.
And thoughts rushing into her mind like a tidal wave. Thoughts that had no words, no logic, thoughts that weren’t attached to any sense of self.
Instincts. The pack. Our pack. They were dying all around her, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She cried out, howled in pure terror.
And then the world outside disappeared completely. Rogue landed with a thud on the floor of the mansion. Her hands and feet were no longer bound, she noticed dimly as she scrambled up the steps and down the hall, where Marie was already waiting outside her door, following Rogue’s approach like a deer in the headlights.
“What the hell are you doin’?” Rogue said breathlessly. “Get in there and shut the damn door!”
“But—” Marie started.
“No buts,” Rogue cut her off, shoving her into the room. “They’re coming.” Barks and growls grew louder, the sound of claws scraping for purchase on the tile floor. Rogue stepped back into the hallway and pulled the door shut.
Marie pounded on it from the other side, trying the handle, but Rogue held it tight. “Rogue!” she cried. “Rogue, no! Let me help you.”
“Don’t you dare come out, Marie,” Rogue’s voice trembled as she heard the claws tearing up the stairwell. “Don’t you dare. There’s too many of’em. I need to keep you safe.”
Rogue felt a hand come down on her shoulder and whirled. “Carol. Dangit, this really ain’t the time!”
Carol looked back with piercing green eyes that matched her own. “I’ll take care of Marie. If she goes, we all go, and I don’t want that any more than you do. You just try and hold them off.”
Rogue nodded, and Carol slipped into the room, shutting the door behind her.
That left Rogue alone in the hallway. She steeled herself, focusing all her mental reserves on strengthening that door, locking Marie away as tightly as she could.
Rogue kept focusing as the foreign thoughts slammed into her, ripping her apart, altering her mind irreparably. She just held fast to that door until the endless stream of animal thoughts finally swept her away.
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Logan came upon the edge of the clearing and nearly tripped over himself in shock at the scene before him.
Fresh wolf carcasses littered the ground, a dozen or more, and not a scratch on them. They looked—asleep. Logan felt his stomach turn at the eerie sight.
A few remained, nuzzling their dead packmates and whimpering pitifully. Logan’s eyes followed the carnage to its epicenter, just in time to see another wolf snarl and dig its teeth into—no!
He leapt forward with a snarl of his own and ripped through the animal’s neck with his claws, then threw it aside with no care for where it landed. His focus was elsewhere. “Rogue?” The claws snicked back in as he fell to his knees. He ran a gloved hand over her blood-smeared cheek. “Oh, Rogue.”
Her left shoulder was dislocated, her right leg definitely bent at an odd angle. Her hands and feet were bound, and he roared at the sight. Who the fuck could tie up a woman like that and leave her to a pack of wolves?
But—he ripped off the remains of her shredded shirt without any care for modesty. There wasn’t a scratch or a bite mark on her. Just drying blood caked all over her clothes and skin and hair. He had no idea where it could have come from.
He scooped her up carefully, still shaking with rage. Her pulse was faint and growing fainter by the second. He forced words around the growing lump in his throat, “I didn’t come all the way out here just so you could die on me, darlin’. Wake up. You gotta hang on ‘til Dr. McCoy gets here.”
Even as he said the words, he feared she wouldn’t last that long. He laid her out gently on the leaves, kneeling over her. “Shit. This is gonna hurt, ain’t it?” he said as he pulled off his leather glove and pressed his palm to her forehead.