The shaking had subsided, thank god. She'd get random tremors that slowly crawled through her but nothing like it had been. She felt better, no longer pukey, and only dizzy if she moved her head too fast. The horror of the torture she'd survived was firmly pushed to the back of her mind and she focused on the males around her.

189 was back to ignoring her, doing pull-ups from the ceiling of his cage. Every now and again he'd drop and do pushups. 734 was scowling at her from his crouched position in his own cage. He'd bullied her into returning to the living and Mads didn't know if she was grateful for that or not. 633 was seated on the far side of his cage, eyes closed and his head lolling against the cage bars. He looked all kinds of miserable.

Memories of her baby sister seated in much the same way sprung up in her head and sent a fresh wave of rage and pain through her. Tears ate up her vision until everything was blurred around her and she was nine years old again and standing in the bathroom. Her baby sister, her responsibility, was only seven and had always been sick. Some days were better than others, but most days Eva could be found camped out in the tub; head lolling against the cold tile and her thin legs pulled up to her chest.

No. No.

Madeline wasn't a helpless nine-year-old anymore. Evie was long since dead and there was no going back. She had to concentrate on the present and not get lost in the guilt that ate up her insides just thinking about her baby sister. Madeline shook her head as if it would help in forgetting, and ran a hand across her face—she wasn't going to cry, or at least, acknowledge that she was. Maybe she'd develop an Etch-A-Sketch memory one of these days and would be able to shake it all away. She had to get it together—she wouldn't survive if she had a goddamn emotional breakdown every five minutes.

Slowly she regained control enough to clear her throat and clear the blur in her eyes. Mads got her shit together and move closer to 633.

"What kind of sick do you feel, 633?" Would she ever not internally cringe when she said their numbers? "Do you feel like puking? Are you nauseous? Do you have a fever?"

His bright green eyes blinked open and he examined her without moving. Mads stopped when her cage wouldn't let her go further. It was frustrating that she couldn't go further—that she was caged at all. He didn't move and he kept swallowing like he was bracing for vomit if he opened his mouth.

"You feel like puking? Just nod." Mads sat where she'd been standing and watched the beautiful man nod carefully. "Can you come closer to me?"

The only move he made was to arch an eyebrow at her. Which was understandable; she was a human—had basically the same genetic makeup as the assholes who'd kept them in cages all of their lives to torture them. If she was in his shoes, she would run away as far and as fast as she could.

"I—I had a sister who was always sick…" How could she still physically ache talking about her after all these years? "She was like you." Christ, she hadn't talked to anyone about Eva since the funeral- if it could even be called a funeral. No—she wasn't going to open into that particular bag of cats—she was going to keep her shit together. "She was always nauseous and on the verge of puking... we were poor and didn't have great parents..." Understatement of a fucking lifetime. "So, I had to learn how to make her feel better without medicine."

When he continued to just stare at her Madeline tried very hard not to get angry because he'd think it was directed at him. How badly had he been treated for him to be scared of her? She only hit five-nine in her tallest pair of heels. She wasn't strong—just full of rage. Which was probably the only thing she had going for her, defense-wise; all that pent-up rage she'd been told by three separate therapists to do something about was useful when channeled into defending herself. He was her polar opposite in that he was huge, muscled, and could deal lots of damage when defending himself. And he was scared of her.

"I swear, I won't hurt you." She'd tried for a gentle you-can-trust-me-not-to-hurt-you voice but it came out all growly and angry.

He continued to stare at her. After a long moment, he let out a sigh and shifted where he sat.

"Why do I need to come over there; can you not just do what you are going to do from there?"

"No, I need to be able to touch you." His eyebrows shot up. "Have you ever heard of acupressure?" Mads took his silence for a no and continued. "It's..." God, how did she explain it? "It's basically... look—there are pressure points all over your body... if I put pressure on the inside of your wrist for a couple of minutes the nausea you're feeling should go away for a while... or at least not be so horrible. It doesn't hurt... please, let me help you."

After a long moment of stillness 633 finally moved towards her. Mads smiled, relief washing through her as she watched him slowly approach. He was pale and sweating by the time he reached her. 189 had stopped exercising to move to the front of his cage where he could see what they were doing clearly. 734 was completely still and pensive behind her. It was as if they were all waiting for the other shoe to drop. They didn't trust her not to hurt him. Mads swallowed the curses she wanted scream out at Monieth and his assholes—that would not help in this instance.

"All you gotta do is just hold up your arm, and point your wrist towards me." It sounded like the easiest thing in the world to her, but to them, it was probably the worst. Here she was, this human, asking him to trust her when all they knew of humans was pain and imprisonment.

633 looked towards 189, who was scowling, and then quickly glanced behind her, where she was sure, 734 sat on his haunches as close to the cage bars as he could get. Finally, his green eyes landed on hers again and he studied her for a long thirty seconds. Madeline smiled as best she could and felt the scabs on her lips break and start leaking blood again.

Finally- finally, 633 held up his arm and put it in her reach, wrist out. Mads could feel tears spill down her cheeks as she grinned even wider, not caring about her busted lips. Gah, she was an emotional wreck. She had to get it together. Normally Mads could keep her shit under control but she was going to blame her lack of emotional control on the current extenuating circumstances. Shit, she'd been kidnapped, tortured, and her future held rape, forced reproduction, and even more torture—most people would be a little teary-eyed, right? She wasn't a pathetic weakling, crying was acceptable all things considered.

"Thank you for trusting me 633." Mads wiped away her tears and resolved not to shed another one for at least an hour. "I'm going to reach through and put slight pressure on your wrist, okay?"

His ridiculously beautiful face was set in stone. He was expecting pain and betrayal.

"Open up your hand, like that, and make all your fingers point up." Madeline caught sight of lethal-looking cat-like claws and resisted the urge to stare. "There—good, like that. Now let me find the pressure point." His skin was warm, too warm. Maybe he had a fever from whatever drugs they had him on. Mads found the spot and applied pressure. "Okay, now... slowly so I don't lose my grip, point your palm toward your face." With a single-minded intensity, that was so boyishly cute she could have cried, he did as she said. "Now we just wait a bit."

Mads counted to thirty in her mind and watched 633 for any sign of discomfort or pain. She really really did not want to hurt the man. She would feel like shit and he would probably never let her help him again.

"How are you feeling? Less nauseous?"

"Yes." His face relaxed; she could see his muscles loosen as he settled more comfortably on the cement. She'd won his trust—well, maybe not all of it, but a small portion of it. Triumph flared up in her blood and made her all light-headed and happy. "Slightly."

Well, there went the happy feeling unfurling in her gut. Mads pursed her lips and tried not to curse. Maybe it was failing because he was all kinds of muscle-y and huge and she was so not. She probably wasn't applying enough pressure.

"Okay, do you see where my thumb is?"She watched his eyes zero in on it and he nodded. "And do you feel where my three fingers are on the back of your wrist?"

"Yes, I do."

"Those are the pressure points that alleviate—er, that is, get rid of- the nausea. I want you to put your fingers exactly where mine are, okay?"

Again, with all the single-minded intensity of a shark on the hunt, he did as she said; being slow and cautious and so utterly adorable. Mads slid her hand out from under his as he matched her fingers exactly.

"Okay, good. Now, keep your fingers where they are but rub hard—well, not too hard but firm. Here, watch- like this." Mads put her arm in the upright position and showed him what she meant. "Good, now do that for a couple minutes and you should feel better."

He nodded absently, not really listening now, just carefully doing just as she said. Mads rested on her knees and watched him. He was careful and concentrated and so utterly intelligent that she couldn't help but get pissed all over again. How in the holy fucking Christ did the assfucks running the place think these men were akin to talking parrots?

"Why are you angered, The Mad?" 734 knocked her out of her seething and back into the present. His question confused her, she hadn't cursed or changed facial expressions or anything—how did he know she was angry? "Is 633 not performing correctly?"

"No, 633 is perfect. I was thinking about the assholes running this place and how incredibly stupid they are." Mads turned towards his voice. He hadn't moved from his tensed crouched position. "How did you know I'm angry? You couldn't see my face and I didn't curse or anything."

"I can smell it on you." He stated all matter-o-factly, like everyone in the world was blessed with a set of super nostrils.

"You can... smell it on me?" What a horrible revelation.

Hell, if they could smell emotion then they could smell her. Her body odor was unwashed going on a week now, sweaty, and—when was the last time she'd run a deodorant stick on her under her armpits? Oh god, she undoubtedly smelt like Satan's ass crack and they had endured it, uncomplaining, for a week. Of course, she hadn't gotten out of bed for most of that week—so they were probably just being polite and letting her sleep instead of insisting she take a shower.

How the fuck was she supposed to shower? Would she have to be escorted and watched? A shiver crawled down her spine at the thought of Bruised Nuts and Broken Nose watching her shower. They would hurt her, probably rape her. Fuck that, if she had to be escorted to the shower, she would just stay dirty. Maybe the smell would repulse them enough to leave her alone.

"Yes. You are now feeling fear." 734 leaned closer and cocked his head at her, big dark eyes imploring and curious. Well, that was adorable. Could he be devastatingly handsome and adorable all at the same time? It just didn't seem fair to the mere mortals of average appeal. "Does my being able to smell your emotions make you frightened?"

"Er," Madeline had to shake herself to stop staring at the man. "No, I was thinking that if you could smell my emotions then you definitely could smell me—and that can't be pleasant seeing as how I haven't showered in at least a week. So, sorry about that guys." She could feel her cheeks getting hot. That's probably why 189 disliked her so much.

"You are fearful that we can smell you?" His eyebrows scrunched and his nose crinkled like he disliked that statement.

"No... I was just wondering where I could wash up and that got me thinking that I might have to be escorted and watched while showering and then I thought about the assholes... er, I don't know their names—the ones that brought me in the first time... about them being the ones to escort me and..." Why was she so pathetic every moment of her life? They'd been tortured and caged their whole lives and she was worried about someone watching her shower. "I got scared. Sorry, it's silly, I'm just a coward."

"You are not a coward." He flicked his big hand as if brushing away her statement. "You will not have to be escorted to shower, The Mad. The hose in the corner is where you are permitted to clean yourself. We will not watch as you do this, do not fear us."

"Well," Mads absorbed that tidbit and didn't know if she felt better or worse. "okay then." It didn't matter—she already had to pee in front of them, what was a bit of showering between inmates? "Is there soap and shampoo and stuff? Do I have to ask for it?"

"There is soap on top of the toilet." He jerked his head towards the shiny metal toilet.

Sure enough, a white bar of soap sat on top of the back of the toilet. How accommodating. Maybe if she closed her eyes and believed really hard, she could pretend she was staying at a five-star hotel.

Now she just had to get up the courage to strip down and shower in front of three beautiful males and at least ten separate cameras watching.

"It worked." 633's voice was low and almost thrumming. "The Mads, I did what you instructed and I no longer feel sick."

Madeline whirled to face the man and smiled. His lips were pulled back into a grin that was filled with pointed fangs, which was a mite unsettling. But Madeline gave zero shits—how could she think about anything else when he was grinning like he was? He stood to his full height, and Madeline was pretty sure that was the first time she'd seen him up and walked the length of his cage. He smiled again and then immediately went to a plate by the door of his cell with what looked like a slab of uncooked meat.

"Thank you, The Mads." He smiled brightly before he bit into the raw steak. "I was too sick to eat before."

"It doesn't last forever though. It'll probably wear off in, maybe, ten minutes—but then you just have to do the same thing again."

He nodded his understanding and continued eating.

It was at that moment Madeline decided she would escape with all of them. She'd been planning on getting the hell out of dodge the first chance she got—no matter who remained behind. But she wouldn't be able to leave them behind. Which was just an annoyingly optimistic thought—here she was thinking she would not only have a chance to escape but also have the means to help them escape as well.

"Do not shower, The Mads." 734 was suddenly alert and tilting his head towards to swinging doors on the opposite side of the room. "They come."

Madeline positioned herself in the middle of her cell and waited. She wasn't going to think of the upcoming torture-fest, or of the horrible pain she'd have to endure again. No, she was going to think of... 734 and why exactly he was calling her 'The Mads'—they were all doing it actually. Had she put a 'the' in front of her name when she'd introduced herself?

The doors swung open and Madeline's heart stuttered in her chest.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She had barely recovered from the last go-round.

Christ, she was going to die.

Bruised Nuts and Broken Nose sauntered into view and her stomach turned over. It looked like the shorter one's nose was healing. Both of his eyes were faded to green and yellow and his nose was no longer crooked and puffy. The arm she'd broken had been casted and held at his side. Bruised Nuts was, unfortunately, walking without a limp.

"You are strong, The Mads. You will survive." It wasn't so much an encouragement as it was a command.

The two assholes halted at her cage and Madeline's fear cranked up to downright petrified. Which just pissed her the hell off.

"Well, it looks like yer settlin' in nicely, Sweet-Cheeks." Bruised Nuts settled his stance and spit in her direction. Fucker.

"Did the animals let you in on why you're here?" Broken Nose piped up, a malicious smirk on his face. "They tell you you're here to get fucked?"

"Ain't no fun gettin' fucked by these animals neither—they'll just as soon kill ya as fuck ya." Bruised Nuts unholstered his taser and twirled it around a bit.

"Or kill ya while they fuck ya!" Broken Nose laughed like it was a good joke. All her instincts were telling her to run. But she could go nowhere, god damnit!

"But we won't kill ya—we'll just tear your cunt up a bit. You'll still be breathing when we get done with you." He smiled a slow yellow-toothed smile that had her skin crawling and her stomach roiling.

"You can't!" She didn't mean to yell but her terror was cranked up to eleven and her voice box was right up there with it. "Monieth said I was here for them!" She jabbed a hand towards 734 but kept her eyes on the assholes. "You fuckers can't touch me."

Broken Nose laughed all derisively like she just said the stupidest thing he'd ever heard.

"Nah, Sweet-Cheeks, yer cunt is free game as long as yer still testin' the breeding drug." Terror was now a living being that had her in a chokehold. Bruised Nuts stopped twirling his taser and stepped closer to her cage to aim it at her. "Now hold still, so I can show you how well my dick still works."