Killian wasn't sure if it was the flow of Emma's dress that made it look like she was moving in slow motion, or if she actually was. She wore a full length ballroom gown, the skirt held outwards by a stiff petticoat and a silken ribbon around her wrist to hold the trailing train aloft. It was the most brilliant white, covered in iridescent pearl beads that caught the lights as she descended the stairs.
Her hair was plaited into a circle that laid over the back of her head like a tiara, a slither of wire adorned with silver leaf shaped beads woven into the golden blonde locks. They were sparkling in the light, twinkling like the stars, and a similar pattern of beads was incorporated into the bouquet she was carrying. Blood red roses mixed with white, the human symbols for romance and a new beginning, were carried at her chest, a delicate charm bracelet fitting loosely around her wrist with opposing half moon shaped charms dangling from it.
When Emma reached the last step, Killian stepped forward and extended out his hand to her, which she took and finally stepped off the staircase. The heels of her shoes fell silently on the ultra plush cream coloured carpet which was laid out like a runner, the edges held to the floor by bright, shiny silver metal fixings. It was just one thing about the day Killian knew he would never forget, even if it distracted him from the beautiful creature in front of him.
Emma fit into her dress perfectly, almost as if she was sewn in. It rustled as she moved into his space, the scent of the roses between them invading his senses and making him smile. It was a joyful smile, almost one hundred percent happy, but as his eyes roamed up and down her glitzy figure, he couldn't help but let a few sideways smirks slide over his lips as he imagined how Emma's skin felt underneath the skirt.
"Down boy," Emma warned him with a coy smile.
"Emma, you look…" he began, his cheeks flushed and his smile unwaning. Her beauty had stolen the air right out of his lungs and despite his wolf stamina, he couldn't recover.
"I know." She smiled at him, clutching his hand a little tighter.
"I never thought this day would come," Killian admitted shyly, a hint of sadness tainting his words. Emma let her bare shoulders drop a little and Killian couldn't help but reach out and trail his thumb over the jut of her collarbone.
"Didn't I tell you it would be okay?" Emma smiled warmly. She reached up, her free hand cupping his cheek and she traced the outline of his scar with her soft, silky thumbpad.
"We've just been through so much," Killian told her, turning his face so that he could kiss her palm. Her skin smelled sweet, more so than normal, and Killian couldn't stop himself from inhaling the scent that wafted from her wrist.
"And we'll go through so much more," Emma told him with a nod. "But whatever happens, we will always have each other." Emma smiled at him again, the skin around her eyes crinkling and her lightly blushed cheeks pushing her eyes closed a little.
"I promised you forever," Killian reminded himself out loud. "Come what may."
"You did," Emma beamed.
"Will you still love me when we are old and grey?" Killian teased. He took her hand in his, running his thumb over the ridges of her knuckles and looking down, watching his fidgeting hand nervously.
"Killian Jones, are you nervous?" Emma teased back. "Stalling, maybe?"
"Stalling?" Killian laughed, aghast. "Never."
"Good," Emma told him as she slipped her hand from his and lifted it behind his head, lacing her fingers through the soft, downy hair at the back of his neck. It was a little bit prickly from his recent haircut for the day, already growing back at the edges of his collar. She pulled his face to hers, planting her brilliantly red lipstick coated lips to his tenderly for a quick kiss. "Because I really want to marry you."
"Hmm," Killian hummed, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning into her. "Conveniently, you are in a gown. And I'm in a tux. And look, you even have some flowers," he smiled, nodding to the bouquet in her hand that was becoming increasingly squashed between them.
"Whilst I would love to do this right now," Emma smirked, running a single finger down the side of his face and over the point of his elvish ear seductively. "I need you to do something for me first."
"Anything," Killian said earnestly, leaning forward and nipping at her exposed collarbone.
"You have to wake up," Emma said softly.
"What?" Killian frowned, pulling back when Emma stepped out of his embrace. She walked backward a little, clutching the flowers with both hands and staring at him with pleading eyes. Killian's heart took off in his chest, the scene behind Emma fading away and leaving her standing in the darkness, her dress the brightest beacon.
"Killian, you have to wake up," she whispered again, her voice fading away as tiny fragments of her figure began to blow away as if they were dust. Panic washed over Killian and he reached out, clutching onto particles of his love that simply slipped through his fingers like dust in a beam of sunlight.
"You have to wake up!" A harsh voice invaded his ears, a sudden weight pressing down on his entire body as Killian's entire vision faded to black and he felt the pull of reality once more. He hadn't even opened his eyes when a sharp, stabbing sensation signalled the cold water hitting his entire body, his lungs gasping for much needed air and his eyes flying open. He shook his head a few times, flicking away the water as it dripped down his face and from the end of his nose, mixing with dried blood as it did and turning the droplets pink.
Killian's delirium cleared and his vision eventually focused on Walsh standing in front of him, a now empty bucket swinging from one hand. He could barely lift his head, the shivering from the ice cold water setting into his bones and rendering his neck muscles useless with spasms. The tiny, now melting, cubes of ice littered the forest floor at Killian's feet and he was completely naked, the rough bark of a huge oak tree digging into his bare back and his shoulders wrenched painfully backward because his arms were chained around the trunk.
"There you are," Walsh spat, leaning forward, his face inches from Killian's. Killian averted his gaze to watch the water running down through the hair on his legs, his jaw clenched tightly and the wounds on his face reopening from the force of the water hitting him. "I thought I'd killed you," Walsh laughed. "We don't want that just yet."
"What...What do you want?" Killian stuttered, his skin rubbing the bark as he shivered. He gulped, the distaste for his captor evident in his words and leaving a disgusting taste in the back of his throat.
Walsh laughed a sadistic chuckle that left a crawling sensation over Killian's skin. "Now isn't that the million dollar question?" He snapped, moving around the tree a little and checking the chains. They were secure, padlocked together tightly at the back of the old tree, Killian's hands wrapped up in them midway and holding his arms backward.
Killian shuddered when a new wave of shivering passed over him, tiny ice cold droplets of water dripping onto his body and making him twitch involuntarily. He pulled against the chains but they were not moving, not even an inch, and he casually tried to cast a look at his surroundings.
There was no noise of anything nearby. No road, not even the barest rustle of leaves from any wildlife and Killian knew Walsh had them somewhere secluded. There was a crude looking wooden table set up behind Walsh, a rickety chair barely big enough for an adult next to it and an assortment of what Killian could only describe as tools on its seat. Walsh began moving them, one by one, deliberately so Killian could see, and resting them on the table top. They seemed to be alone, the wolves from earlier nowhere to be seen or smelled, and Killian briefly wondered how he had come to be naked and chained to a tree.
"Trying to remember?" Walsh taunted, reading his mind. "Let me fill in some gaps for you. With a story." He grabbed the chair and spun it in his hand, turning it backward and setting it down in front of Killian. He sat on it astride, leaning forward and resting his forearms over the aged wooden back. "Once upon a time, there were two wolves," he began in a sing song voice.
Killian felt his anger rising, the tensed muscles in his jaw clenching his teeth together so tightly he thought he might crack a tooth. He flexed his fingers, balling his hands into fists on either side of the tree as Walsh continued.
"Brothers," he clarified. "And when their father died, there was an epic battle for dominance." He shifted his weight on the chair and it groaned a little, the wood creaking and wobbling to one side. Walsh sucked in a breath and rubbed a hand over his smooth chin. "When it was all done, and one son had come out superior, there was a quiet period. The other son didn't mind because the new alpha had chosen a barren mate, so one day, his time to rule would arrive."
"Just get to the point," Killian spat, blood infused spittle dripping from his lip and falling to the leaves at his feet.
Walsh jumped to his feet and was on Killian in a flash, grabbing his hair and wrenching his head back painfully until he cracked his skull on the bark of the tree trunk. Killian cried out, pinching his eyes closed and holding his breath until Walsh released his hold and sighed. "Don't interrupt me," he said calmly, smoothing Killian's hair flat and returning to his chair.
Killian's head began to pound, his temples throbbing and the pain from the smack covering his scalp. He tried to shake it off again, but it just made his eyeballs hurt and his vision cloud at the edges of his periphery. He didn't look up when he heard the creak of the chair once more, instead focusing all of his pain into staring at the ground.
"Now, where was I. Oh yes!" Walsh declared triumphantly, leaning back in the chair and waving a finger in Killian's direction. "The brother knew his time would come, and if he wanted to rule sooner, all he had to do was kill his brother and make it look like an accident. Easy, right?" Walsh shrugged but Killian did not answer. "Wrong," Walsh said darkly, pushing himself to his feet once more.
Killian lifted his head a little, ignoring the lights pulsing behind his eyes as he struggled to adjust to the new level of vision. More light invaded his pupils and made his head ache even more, but he watched with a furious fascination as Walsh made his way to the table nearby. "The one brother, let's call him David, went and had a child," he laughed to himself, running a finger over the sharp edge of a blade. "And now, with her unscheduled birth, the other brother, we'll call him James, would never be king." Walsh lifted up the implement he had been touching and held it in front of his face, the blade glinting in the sunlight that poked through the trees. "That is," he began, his voice trailing off as he bit his bottom lip in anticipation of using the tool. "Unless she died."
Killian eyed him suspiciously as he continued to inspect his table of torture tools. "Or was exiled," Walsh shrugged, a sly smile spreading over his lips as he stroked over another of the tools. "Imagine if she got pregnant. David would have no choice but to exile her, right? Leaving him without an heir and, hopefully, distracted enough that James could overthrow him easily."
"What does this have to do with me?" Killian growled, his limbs beginning to tingle from the lack of sensation.
Walsh turned to look at him, pressing his finger to the point of the blade. "I'm so glad you asked." He sucked in a breath as he stalked towards the tree again and Killian tensed, flinching away a little. He turned his head to one side, involuntarily submitting in hopes he would be spared any more torment.
"I've tracked her, to here," Walsh told him, waving the blade around in front of his face and motioning to the forest around them. "Divine taste she has, almost like the finest dining you have ever encountered. But she has this scent, like a blemish on her otherwise beautiful smell," Walsh said with a smack of his lips, imagining Emma's scent the first day he had smelled her at Misthaven, but then his face turned up with a grimace. "Tainting her. Ruining the way she smelled for me," he growled angrily. He stepped impossibly closer to Killian, almost pressing his body against his and pinning him into the tree even harder.
"It's you," he spat, eyes flicking over the profile features of Killian's face, his hot breath condensing against his cheek. Walsh's eyes lingered on the scar in Killian's face and he curled his lips, disgusted. "You reek of human, a half breed mongrel who isn't worthy to walk the earth, let alone touch her, and yet you are all over her, because wouldn't you know it? You're the mongrel she has been fucking!"
Walsh's evil cackle filled the forest as realisation dawned on Killian. The story sounded familiar, it was something Liam had told him about once, but at the time he had neglected to see the relevance. Werewolf culture wasn't something he had taken the time to follow as intimately as Liam had, only stopping to briefly learn a few of the rules required of all werewolves. Don't tell humans. That was about all Killian knew, but Walsh's tale had triggered his memory of past bedtime stories and he audibly sighed.
"Now he gets it," Walsh crouched over, levelling his gaze with Killian's. He tapped the point of the blade against Killian's unscarred cheek and ran his tongue over his teeth as he twisted it and watched the blade cut into his flesh. "You've been fucking Emma Nolan. The heir of Misthaven."
Killian wrenched his head sideways again and Walsh's fiendish laugh rang out in his ears. The mere mention of Emma made his blood boil, Killian's rage building up beyond his control and before he had time to reason with himself, he tried to lunge forward and grab at Walsh, but his arms remained pinned to the huge trunk of the tree. He yelped in pain, relaxing back into his helpless position whilst Walsh laughed at him.
"What? You don't want a scar to match on this side?" He tapped the blade against Killian's cheek again and Killian flinched away with a growl. "No? Pity. Chicks dig scars," Walsh laughed, the maniacal sound disappearing as he looked down Killian's body. "See, the problem is," Walsh began, sliding the back of the blade deliberately down Killian's chest until it caught on the curled hair over his pubic bone. "I don't think you should be. Fucking her, I mean."
Killian kicked out his leg, trying to bat Walsh's away with a knee, but Walsh simply grinned at him and replaced the blade to Killian's groin. The cold steel pressed against the underside of his flaccid penis, the skin of his scrotum shrinking a little more from the contact with the cold and Killian visibly gulped. Walsh's face lit up a little, his grip on the scalpel blade tightening. "I don't think you should be fucking anyone, mongrel," Walsh spat with revulsion. "Maybe we can change a few things, here and there, you know, to reduce the risk of you siring any filthy half breed progeny."
Walsh slid the blade sideways, slicing through the skin on Killian's sack. Killian ground his jaw tighter, the sound of squeaking teeth filling his ears. There was a cool sensation between his legs that was quickly replaced by a sting and then hotness, the stream of blood that spurted out of a nicked vein spraying onto his inner thigh. Killian hissed through his teeth, pressing his thighs together and flopping his head back against the tree trunk as Walsh laughed harder.
"Maybe the boys and I can show Emma what she is missing and then who knows, she might get the taste for pureblood," Walsh threatened, running his tongue over his teeth, pausing to tap the tip against the point of his canine.
"She's not a piece of meat," Killian growled through clenched teeth, turning his head to face Walsh in a challenge of dominance he could never win in his current predicament.
"Funny, isn't it? Her an heiress and you a mongrel. A real Lady and the Tramp situation," he taunted once more, returning to the table and discarding the used blade back with the other implements. "I'm bored of this one now," Walsh said idly. The scalpel hit the table with a clatter and another grabbed Walsh's attention, his eyes lighting up when he spied the two-pronged tips of his heretic's fork. He picked it up, turning to face Killian once more, tapping his fingertip against the spiked tip to test its sharpness. "Now this is more like it."
"Please…" Killian implored with a fresh wave of unbearable pain shooting through his scrotum. Letting his head hang limp once more, the sting in his shoulders turning to a numbness that was just as painful, he tried to push through the throbbing in his groin.
"Oh, don't beg," Walsh told him firmly, stabbing the harsh points into the soft flesh under Killian's jaw. It forced him to lift his head and it was then that he realised he was fitted with a thin strap of a collar. Walsh passed it through the middle of the device and refastened it, settling the other pointed end of the four-pronged device onto the skin covering Killian's sternum. Killian winced at the new sensation, the prongs digging into his skin and causing a burning sensation each time he moved his head or lowered it too much through fatigue. The prongs were so sharp that Killian feared if he fell unconscious again he would surely pierce his chin, and as he was chained to the tree he had no way of shifting to wolf form to heal faster.
"What do you want?" Killian gulped, his words changed by the angle of his neck and the bob of his Adam's apple passing painfully over the prongs of the fork.
"I want Emma!" Walsh shouted out, his voice echoing through the trees. He was panting hard, his eyes wide with a crazed stare that had Killian a little bit apprehensive. Walsh was unhinged, clearly obsessed with Emma too, and when he grabbed Killian's face between his long, dirty fingers, the fork dug into his neck a little more. "But you are the wolf she wants, and it's vile!"
Killian stared into the void of Walsh's eyes for a second, the soulless windows reflecting nothing back but hate. He kept his breathing calm, the muscles in his jaw ticking evidently as he rearranged his head so that the heretic's fork spikes were as comfortable as they possibly could be. "Why don't you unchain me so we can settle this like real wolves?" Killian tried but Walsh snorted.
"What, so you can give me another scar?" he mocked.
"Death doesn't leave a scar," Killian said darkly.
"You know what was wrong with you?" Walsh smirked boyishly, continuing when Killian didn't respond with anything but an angry stare. "You were nothing. You had no ambition, Killian, and a man who wants nothing has no price."
"I'm a wolf," Killian snapped, his words almost a gruff bark.
"Of course you are," Walsh said sarcastically, tracing the outline of the scar on his neck again. "And luckily for me," Walsh pointed to his own chest and began to grin. "But not so much for you," he pointed to Killian, eyes lighting up again with a crazy look. "I've found something that you want more than life itself," Walsh sneered. "Maybe hurting Emma will inspire you."
"Don't you hurt her," Killian growled.
"Maybe I'll let you watch," Walsh mused, ignoring Killian's pleas. "Emma will come for you, because she loves you, for whatever reason, and she will find your crossbred mongrel carcass instead. Then, when she is crying over your corpse, I can really have some fun."
Killian pulled against his chains, ignoring the jab of the heretic's fork as he clenched his jaw. "I swear," Killian threatened, his voice low and dark. "If you touch one hair on her pelt…"
"You think I care about your idle threats?" Walsh ran his tongue over his bottom lip with a smirk, wagging a finger accusingly at Killian as he returned to the table. "I knew you would be a fighter," Walsh told him over his shoulder, his voice changed to a more normal tone and the rage in his eyes barely there. Walsh was a psychotic, there was no doubt about it, and the calmness in his tone made Killian a little fearful. When he turned around again and Killian spied the cattle prod in his hands, his fear turn to sheer terror as he pulled against the restraint of the chain once more. "Let's see how long you can fight off your change."
The crackle of electricity and blue spark between the tip of the prod made Killian panic. He wasn't scared of the shock, he could handle that part of torture, but if his body succumbed to his change, his bones would be ripped from their sockets and he would be stuck in his wolf form until he healed. All werewolves had the ability to heal faster when in their canine state, but if the body was shocked into a change, it would enter a sort of safe mode where it wouldn't change back to human until it felt the danger had passed.
Luckily for Killian, unless Walsh decided to end his torture and kill him, he would heal. Unluckily for him, he would shift whilst chained to a tree and it would all but kill him anyway.
"Please, you don't…" Killian tried to reason but his words were halted by the spasming clench of his jaw when Walsh jabbed the tip of the cattle prod into his ribcage. His ribs were still broken from the alleyway assault and they crunched in his torso as he twisted away from the source of his pain. Killian's entire body went stiff, the current passing through every ion in his muscles and tensing them all at the same time. Killian's head snapped back, his skull hitting the tree again with a painful grunt and his words disappeared, turning into a long, monotonous cry as he shook and fought off the inner wolf.
"Now what did I tell you about begging," Walsh said with mock sweetness, taking a deep breath to steady himself as he shut off the device and Killian's body went limp.
Killian sucked in a breath, gulping in air hurriedly and ignoring the sting of the heretic's fork against the fleshy underside of his chin and the sharp stabbing in his balls. His body ached, the tingle of electricity still thrumming through his arms and legs, his lungs burning as they desperately tried to fill with oxygen. Being electrocuted didn't just send Killian's lungs into a spasm, reducing their efficiency, but it also sent a jolt of excruciating pain through his nervous system and every hair molecule that covered his skin shrunk and pulled tight over his bones.
"Is..that…" Killian panted quietly through gritted teeth, eyes fluttering closed.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," Walsh mocked, stepping closer to Killian and cupping a hand around his ear. "What did the mongrel say?"
A new rage fuelled Killian's hatred for the wolf in front of him and he wished his could end his life right then and there, if not to protect himself from the inevitable torture that was about to come, but to protect Emma. If Walsh managed to get him to change, Emma wouldn't be safe, but despite Killian's fears for the she-wolf he loved, he wouldn't give in without a fight. Even if it was verbal.
"I said," Killian panted a little louder, peeling his eyes open to catch Walsh's gaze once more. "Is that all you got?" he spat, dark eyes boring into Walsh with a challenge the Neverland beta was shocked to see.
Walsh was taken aback for a second before his lips spread into another evil smile. "I know what you are doing," he told Killian firmly, teasing the end of the electrical stick over his flesh without turning it on. Killian flinched away instinctively and Walsh stifled a laugh. "And know this, half breed," he spat out the term against Killian's face, the spray of his spittle landing on Killian's cheek. "I'm in charge here!" He roared, igniting the electrical spark at the end of the pole once more and stabbing it into Killian's pectoral muscles.
Killian began to cry out once more, but the current tore through his muscles and made every fibre contract again. Killian's back arched off the tree trunk and he shook, the chain holding him still rattling when it slackened behind the tree. Walsh didn't let up for a while longer this time, making sure Killian was almost out of breath, red faced and the smallest dribble of foaming spittle appearing at the corner of his mouth before he pulled the pole from his body again. Killian went limp again and the heretic's fork stabbed through his chin, the taste of blood invading his mouth mixed with the copper tang of rust that coated the medieval tool.
"Make no mistake," Walsh threatened, turning on the current again and stabbing the cattle prod into Killian's thigh. "I'm in control of you and your change," he snarled, his face lighting up when Killian's eyes rolled back in his head and it shook violently from side to side, his lips turning blue from lack of oxygen and the heretic's fork tearing even further into the flesh of his sternum.
Killian couldn't hear Walsh's voice, only the high pitched buzz of tinnitus that rang out in his ears and accompanied the crackle of electricity that surged through his body. Every muscle burned, stretched to their absolute limit, and the vicious movement of Killian's body against the tree tore chunks of flesh from his back and shoulders. He pulled against his restraints, sure his shoulders were going to pop from their sockets and feared the huge, cast iron links that bound him would tear off his hands.
Finally he felt relief when Walsh stopped electrocuting him, the tingle in his limbs turning into a dead weight and his body sagging. The wetness of blood coated Killian's back and ran down over his legs, pooling slowly at his feet. Bruises appeared at the sight of every electrical intrusion and his chest heaved, breath catching dryly in his throat, lips cracked and head lolling forward only to spring back when the heretic's fork stabbed further into the flesh of his jaw.
"You are resilient," Walsh observed, almost impressed. "I've known purebred werewolves to have changed by now."
"Must be my human side," Killian snapped, his muscles twitching with aftershocks and thick, dark red blood dripping from his chin as he spat out a mouthful of the copper tainted liquid.
Walsh made a noise in his throat and then his gaze flicked down to the black, plastic coated pole his hand. Killian followed his eyes as best he could and noticed that the cattle prod came with a current setting and that it was currently on the lowest it could be. With a devilish grin, Walsh cranked it up to the maximum setting, a low buzz from the charge of electricity filling Killian's ears.
"Let's get rid of that then, shall we?" Walsh grinned. He flicked the switch and the lightning shaped blue light jumped between the two contacts at the end of the stick, the charge sizzling audibly. Before he had time to jab him again, Killian called out, the scent of Graham and Emma invading his nostrils from over Walsh's shoulder. He peered into the thick forest behind Walsh and noticed the huge man beside his love, downwind and hidden from his attacker, a long finger pressed to pursed lips as they stalked their prey.
"Wait!" Killian stalled and Walsh froze. "You're right," he said flatly. "I don't deserve Emma. If you let me go, you win. She's yours." The words felt foreign on his tongue, dirty, almost like he was giving up and Walsh cocked his head to the side as he regarded Killian's sudden change of heart. Killian tried to ignore the sting of pain in his chest, the burn site of the previous electrocution having left its mark like a brand against his skin, hoping that Walsh wouldn't turn around and smell his saviors.
"Just like that?" Walsh narrowed his eyes.
"Just like that," Killian agreed. "I'll leave town and never return."
Walsh dropped his arm by his side, the sizzle of the cattle prod fading away as he turned it off. He rubbed his chin, the daily sprout of his stubble like velcro under his fingertips. "See, here is my problem," Walsh told Killian honestly, stepping closer and reigniting the cattle prod. It was inches from Killian's face, the blue spark lighting up his eyes. He swallowed hard and tried to ignore his body's inner wolf fighting with him to come out and tear Walsh's throat out. "You're lying," Walsh told him darkly. "I know you're lying because your lips are moving."
"I'm not," Killian blurted, making his voice sound more desperate as he caught sight of Graham circling around behind Walsh.
"You must think I have a terrible memory," Walsh said slowly, inspecting the tip of the cattle prod and watching the spark jump between the contacts with a morbid fascination. Killian looked confused and his expression just made Walsh revel in his power, even more, tilting his head sideways and running his fingers over the fleshy bump of his neck scar. Killian's face paled. "I knew you'd remember too," Walsh spat. "This is about you, and what you did to me. I don't want Emma, although a taste wouldn't be a bad thing."
"Stay away from her," Killian warned helplessly.
"Or what?" Walsh ground out. "You are hardly in a position to stop me."
"Maybe not," Killian growled. "But she has people. You'll be sorry."
Walsh took a small step back and inhaled deeply. "No, Killian, I think you're the one who will be sorry."
There was a split second before the charged rod hit his skin that Killian remembered seeing Graham emerge from the leafy shadows but after he was electrocuted at maximum voltage, he could no longer contain the wolf inside of him. Every nerve ending was stuck between pain and never ending tension, the blue spark of electricity licking at the skin covering his ribs just long enough before Graham reached Walsh that his body responded in the worst possible way. Killian's cries mixed with a harrowing howl as he shifted, joints popping from their sockets and unable to fully find their place in his canine form because of the chain holding his arms apart.
He grew into his wolf form quickly and the heretics fork strap snapped almost instantly, falling to the forest floor, silently forgotten. The jut of Killian's barrelled ribs made his back arch and his hind legs kicked out into the space in front of him as he struggled against the chain. His cries were pure anguish, his jaws snapping at nothing, desperately gnawing at his own fur as he fought to be free.
"Killian!" Emma screamed, rushing between Graham and Walsh as they fought over the cattle prod, both careful to avoid touching the live end. She raced over to the tree, horrified by what she saw, a huge black mess of fur and twisted limbs yowling in pain, begging her with his eyes for some sort of help. Emma searched around the tree, finding the padlock behind the huge trunk and pulling at it helplessly.
"Here!" Ruby called, rushing over as best she could with a pair of bolt cutters she had sourced from Walsh's torture table. "Use these!"
Emma grabbed the long handled tools from her human companion and went to work on the chain, cutting through all three layers that wrapped themselves around Killian's previously human wrists. Seeing him in such an unnatural state was scary, the adrenaline rushing through her body as he finally fell into a heap at the base of the tree and silence filled the clearing. Emma threw the bolt cutters aside and ran around the tree, ignoring the fleeing Walsh as he tore past her in wolf form and scurried from the woods.
"That bastard," Graham ground out, turning off the cattle prod and then snapping the device over his knee. "He changed to get away faster. That coward!"
"Is he okay?" Ruby worried, throwing the bag off her shoulder and sinking down onto her knees next to Emma. Graham noticed the two women and joined them, helping to free Killian from the chain. "Why would he do this?"
"Killian?" Emma soothed, ignoring both of them. Killian cast her a sideways glance, his eyes watery and pupils blown. In a more natural position he tucked his legs under himself, trying to make himself smaller, and his tail tucked itself between his legs as he whimpered like a puppy. "It's me," Emma told him softly, reaching out and stroking her hand through the fur on the back of his neck. He flinched, kicking out some leaves and tensing which made him yelp out in pain.
"Easy, Killian," Ruby added softly, pulling the plunger on a syringe. The needle end was stuck into a small vial of clear liquid and she was focused on the amount filling the syringe.
"What's that?" Emma whispered.
"Ketamine," Ruby told her in a business like voice. "For his pain."
Emma watched Ruby lift Killian's foreleg gently, the movement making him howl in pain. "I'm sorry," Ruby soothed in a shaking voice, her own emotion getting the better of her. Her hands were steady as she found Killian's vein, pressing her thumb into his leg to make it bulge through his fur. Once she was content she had found it, she slipped the needle through the coarse, black fur and into the skin, pulling the plunger until she could see blood in the drug, swirling through the clear, thick liquid like smoke. "This will make you feel better, I promise." Ruby injected the entire syringe into Killian's leg and he let out a groan.
"How long before it works?" Emma asked her quickly, eager to get Killian out of the forest. Emma rested her hand to Killian's ribcage, feeling the beat of his heart under her fingertips slow to a steady, more normal rhythm. If only they had arrived earlier. If only they could have stopped this whole situation from happening.
"A few minutes," Ruby told her honestly. She lifted Killian's eyelids and watched his pupils grow even bigger as the drug took effect. "Where are you going to take him? Walsh already knows where Killian lives. You can't go back there."
"Ruby's right," Graham said sadly. "How about Liam's place? He's out of town anyway."
"That's right!" Ruby agreed excitedly. "His brother's loft is empty."
Killian exhaled hard and one leg twitched, almost as if he was asleep and Emma lifted a leg to test his pain threshold. He didn't cry out this time, so she got to her feet and with the help of Graham, lifted him into her arms.
"Take me there," Emma demanded quickly, striding past them with Killian in her arms and fury for Walsh in her soul.