Mated in the Shadow of My Sister Chapter 31

Chapter 0031

Author Note: This chapter will introduce a few new characters. Their importance to the underlying story will become clear relatively soon.

(Dr. Jay Hyder POV)

I am currently lying in the trunk of a car. My eyes are blindfolded, my hands are handcuffed, and my ankles are in chains. The handcuffs and chains are silver, which prevent me from shifting or

communicating with my wolf. They are also burning the sh&t out of my skin.

I do not know how long I have been in the trunk. I was placed in here while I was either sleeping or

unconscious. From the smell of my breath, I suspect that someone managed to dose me with wolfsbane

before I went to bed last night. Wolfsbane is lethal to wolves in high doses and can act as a strong sedative in smaller ones..

I can tell that we are driving somewhere, and we have been for a while. By my rough estimate, we have

been on the road for at least 4-5 hours since I woke up.

I am not scared. Not even a little bit. Given my prior career, I have been trained on how to handle these

types of situations, and very few things scare me anyway.

I am, however, angry and annoyed. I am also very curious.

I have never been kidnapped before. That is not because I am a lovable or likeable guy. To the contrary,

my temperament can be quite challenging for people to deal with at times. My prior career also earned

me plenty of enemies who would be thrilled to get an opportunity to kidnap or kill me.

The problem is that I am not exactly what you would call an “easy” target. I am 6’5″, strong, and highly

trained, and my wolf senses are sharp. Whoever my kidnappers are, I am sort-of impressed that they

were able to pull it off. It was either dumb luck or talent worth me hiring…. after I teach these sons of bit&

&es a lesson about messing with me.

I feel the road underneath me become very bumpy, indicating that we are no longer on paved roads. I

suspect that means that we are getting closer to our final destination.

Sure enough, about twenty minutes later, the car stops. I hear someone unlock the trunk and start to

open it. Through the top of my blindfold, I see a flash of sunlight before the trunk is immediately

slammed shut, hard.

“Not out here!” a female voice yells. Her voice is close by, so my guess is that she was the one who closed the trunk. “Someone might see something. Pull into the garage.”

The car engine starts again, and the car moves slowly forward before it stops for the second time. This

time, when the trunk opens, it stays open.

Four hands -most likely all belonging to males- lift me out of the trunk. I am carried somewhere, and

then laid down on what feels like a bed.

“How long until he wakes up?” the female asks.

“I dunno,” a male voice responds.

“How much wolfsbane did you give him?”

“A few leaves,” the same male responds.

“How many is a few?” the female demands, her voice sounding irritated.

“I don’t know. Three, four, ten? We really didn’t measure it. We were sort of in a hurry, we did not want to

get caught.”

“What??? Seriously, Joey?!?!? You are smarter than that! Too much wolfsbane can be deadly! You

always have to measure it to make sure you don’t kill anyone! We cannot afford to lose him!”

“Relax, OK?” a

“Relax, OK?” a different male voice says. “He is still breathing and it has been several hours. We did not

kill him. Let’s just wait for him to wake up.”

“How will we know when he wakes up?” the female asks. “He is blind-folded. Should we remove the blind

-fold?”

“Nah, leave it on for now. I am sure he will move or something,” the male I now know as Joey responds.

Listening to this conversation, I find myself feeling utterly disappointed. It is clear that these folks are

not pros. The successful kidnapping was probably just dumb luck.

It is also clear that these folks are not associated with any of my known enemies. It is well known in our

career circles that my body processes wolfsbane differently than other wolves. A typical dose of

wolfsbane can be expected to last in my system no more than 30-60 minutes. These bozos clearly do not

know that, which means they also did not do their homework.

Two hours have now passed. I can be sure of the time because there is some sort of old-style clock in

the room. To entertain myself, I have been paying attention to the sounds and keeping trac