40. The Twilight Time.

It was nighttime as I walked in the street, covered in blood. My mind wasn't functioning properly, consumed by rage and so much more. Two distinct bite marks adorned my neck tendon, on both sides. I could still feel that ghostly sensation, the memory of their kisses, the pain that accompanied them. It had only happened once, but it had shattered me more than I ever thought possible.

I wasn't sure where life would take me, and my rage consumed me entirely. I was like a loaded gun, ready to kill at the slightest provocation. I had been on a killing spree for over 12 hours, but it felt like nothing. I was ready to continue, to take more lives. I had no specific reason in my mind, just a set of instructions that Wulfe had implanted in me, driving me to seek the nearest safe house.

I had no idea if anyone was there. These safe houses were designed to keep anyone other than me out, but since Damon had taken them into the pack a long time ago, it felt like an eternity. There was a possibility that someone from the magic house was living there. So many ghostly sensations tore through my mind and body, fueling my rage. There was nothing to stop me from killing if someone was in my house.

I could smell the blood all over me and feel the weight of all those people dying as I slaughtered them during my escape. And what was even more disturbing was that I could still feel that twisted feeling of being in love. I could taste his kisses, his touch, and remember how he made me feel so amazing. His face, looked down at me as he thrust himself inside me, over and over again. He whispered sweet nothings, professing his love for me, a love that felt so real.

But was it all just a simple biochemical reaction in my brain? Was there even such a thing as true love? I knew I would have a whole new set of nightmares to contend with. I had no idea how long I had been his prisoner or where I currently was. All I knew was that the safehouse was nearby, and I had a set of instructions ingrained in my brain.

I could only hope that those houses hadn't been cleaned too thoroughly, and that the injector I needed would still be there. It had been a while since I had relied on them, and I had no idea if the drug was still effective. But I was in a dangerous state of mind, and I had no other choice.

My walking was more reminiscent of a zombie trudging forward than actual walking, but it managed to get me to my safe house. Without even thinking, my bloody fingers and nails, covered with something, pressed the code to open the door. It swung open with a resounding thud, and I stepped inside, quickly closing it behind me. As I walked in, I noticed that the house was empty.

The first order of business was to take a shower. Unsure if I was wounded or in need of medical attention, I pushed those thoughts aside for the time being. I made my way to one of the bedrooms and entered the bathroom, stripping off my bloody clothes or whatever remnants clung to me.

Stepping into the shower, I turned on the hot water, allowing it to cascade over me. The water swirling down the drain was red and carried the distinct smell of human blood, perhaps even the blood of something else. I examined my hands, trying to wash away any remnants under my nails. My neck, bearing the stinging sensation of bites, still bothered me.

I grabbed a bottle of shampoo and vigorously washed my hair, trying to rid it of his scent and his touch. Memories flooded my mind of Jake and Rob washing me, kissing me, and touching me. I recalled their scent and felt the lingering pain of their absence. We had such little time together, and I couldn't understand why it had to end. The love we shared was perfect, and now the ghostly remnants of Krycheck's brainwashing resurfaced, causing my mind to spin.

I remembered the reports of how much he had impregnated both of my wombs, his scent, and how he had marked my pheromone glands, reveling in my strawberry scent, and allowing me to smell my own essence in his skin. The memory of his hot body pressing against mine, his chest hair brushing against my breasts, lingered.

I continued washing myself, the water no longer tinged with red, but my body ached from various places. I couldn't be certain if there were bullets lodged inside me or something else entirely. Once I felt sufficiently clean, I wrapped a simple, thick bathrobe around myself. I was still in a state of shock, or whatever this numbness was.

My rage made me too unpredictable, and I knew it was time to reset and then address what had happened to me. Walking over to the bed, I noticed a bookcase next to it. Behind the books, I found the injector, a sigh of relief escaping me. I held it tightly in my hand, realizing that I needed to inform the base so they could send someone to assist me.

I was sitting on the soft, rumpled bed, still clad in nothing but my plush bathrobe. The dim light of the room cast a hazy glow on the surroundings. My fingers trembled as I held my comm device, feeling its cool surface against my skin. Carefully, I positioned the earpiece in place and pressed the button, activating the secure line. My voice came out hollow and barely audible, knowing that either one of my five teammates or Alaric would be on the other end, receiving my message.

"This is Flealeader. I am at the safe house. I escaped. My rage has consumed me, and now it's time to reset," I whispered, the words escaping me like a mere breath.

I was taken aback by the voice that responded, surprise lacing every word.

"Baby, are you okay? You've been missing for six weeks. We thought you were on missions, and it took time for us to even start looking for you. Where are you? Do you have injuries? Don't inject that sedative, listen to me. It might have gone bad. It hasn't been checked. Stay put, help is on the way," Damon pleaded with concern.

"No, I need to reset. I'm too volatile. They helped me escape, but they're gone again. Krycheck... love is just a neurochemical reaction... his scent," I replied, my voice trembling.

Damon's voice remained calm as he reassured me, "Baby, calm down. I can handle you. We'll reset you, but I need to check that injector. It won't help if it's gone off. I see where you are now, and we'll be there in ten minutes. Just wait ten minutes, alright?"

"Fine, ten minutes, 600 seconds, or something like that," I muttered before the connection abruptly shut down.

Damon let out a sigh of relief, knowing that help was finally on its way. Wulfe stood by his side, exuding an almost electric power. The babies had been safely placed in the magic house a day earlier, and Number Four had prepared the reserved bag. Damon turned to Number Four and spoke with determination.

"Now, I'm going in there. Just me and Wulfe. We don't want to overwhelm her. Wulfe can subdue her if needed, but I need to calm her down. It's not time to be a doctor just yet," Damon explained.

Number Four nodded in understanding, gripping the bag tightly, his eyes meeting Wulfe's. Wulfe nodded back, silently acknowledging their readiness.

In an instant, they teleported near the safehouse. Wulfe had shared with Damon the programmed thoughts in Mimi's mind, ensuring there would be no surprises. With a composed demeanor, they made their way toward the bedroom, where a soft light beckoned. Wulfe took the lead, a spell at the ready, swiftly and securely binding Mimi in place so she couldn't move. Wulfe approached her, his voice low and gentle.

"Unicorn, are you hurt?" he asked, his concern palpable.

She shook her head, her voice barely audible as she whispered, "I'm not sure. He... he hurt me. He told me he loved me..."

Wulfe struggled to contain his emotions, his heart breaking for her pain. The idea that someone had violated his unicorn made his blood boil. His much sharper telepathy got very ugly snippets from her mind. He had a bond with her that no Salvatore would ever get, and that bond told him a lot.

Damon came next to Mimi, took the injector, and smelled. Yep, it had gone off, meaning instead of sedating her, it would have been boosting her rage even more. They should check every safehouse and make protocols to ensure that the resetor, as it was called, was good and not gone off. 

He was not probing her mind yet, not wanting to see what she had gone through. He cautiously moved a little further, retrieving a blood tube and needle before returning.

He spoke soothingly to Mimi, "Baby, I will take a sample of your blood so I can analyze it, to ensure there is nothing suspicious. Then I can help you reset."

Mimi muttered, "There is love in my blood, a mere neurochemical reaction, but why does it hurt when it ends? His chest hair..."

Wulfe mumbled something, gently stroking her, trying to calm her down. She was in a state of shock that Damon had never witnessed before, and he had to exert considerable self-control to hide his worry. With utmost care, he inserted the needle into her prominent vein, and her blood lazily flowed into the tube. Her blood pressure was not high, and as the tube filled, he withdrew the needle.

He moved a little further, bringing the tube close to his nose and inhaling its scent. It was filled with traces of experimental drugs, distress chemicals, and pain-inducing substances. He contemplated a suitable concoction and began rummaging through the bag to identify the drugs available. Strangely, velvet was not an option this time; there was too much contamination in her blood. He selected several drugs, drew them into a syringe, and shook it, ensuring they mixed well. This should do the trick.

Approaching Mimi, he softly uttered, "Baby, I will administer some medicine now. Just sleep, nothing harmful. Time to hit reset."

Trembling, she tried to keep her gaze away from the syringe he held, while Wulfe embraced her tightly, providing comfort. With a swift motion, he concealed the needle in her vein and pressed the plunger, observing her slump in Wulfe's embrace. His telepathy confirmed her unconsciousness. Meanwhile, Number Four teleported to the house, and Wulfe allowed the Salvatores to inspect his unicorn. They noticed the marks. They would remain there, etched on both sides of her neck in a heart-shaped pattern - bite marks.

Wulfe knew what had transpired, what those marks signified, but it was not yet time to reveal the truth. His telepathy had already witnessed the horrors of the past six weeks, leaving him feeling nauseous. He excused himself, allowing the Salvatores to assume a clinical stance. Wulfe walked to another room, entered the bathroom, and vomited. The overwhelming emotions that had seeped from Mimi still lingered within him, fueling his determination to seek out Krycheck and annihilate him, time and time again. He knew it would take considerable time to help the unicorn regain her strength and beyond. The aftermath of this trauma would undoubtedly leave a lasting impact on her.

Wulfe knew it had gone too deep in her unique mind, so no dispelling by Salvatore would not help, only pure love, but once those salvatores learn the truth, they too would be consumed by the need for revenge and the need to kill.

Damon carefully removed Mimi's bathrobe, feeling the soft fabric slip through his fingers. As he touched her, he could sense the presence of several bullets embedded in her body, but she was still in decent shape. Not too thin, perhaps weighing around 35-40 kilos, but definitely not just skin and bones. She was deeply asleep while number four drew blood samples from her, causing Damon to grunt in disapproval.

"Where should we take her? I'm not sure if the base is the right place," he asked.

Number one grunted in response, then suddenly sank his teeth into Mimi's neck, targeting her pheromone glands, claiming her as his own, and bringing her into their pack.

Damon suggested, "Let's take her to the nearest house we have here. We'll connect it to the medbay and assess her condition."

Number four pondered, "We're in Utah. She bought a big mansion here. Should we go there or to our place?"

Damon decided, "Let's go to our place. It's still the same, and the medbay will suffice. I'll inform Mariella and see who's available. Physically, she's not in terrible shape, but mentally, she's pretty messed up."

Number four grunted, noticing Wulfe's return. Wulfe looked pale, but his rage was palpable.

Number one glanced sharply at Wulfe and questioned, "Why are you so furious?"

Wulfe replied, "You take care of the unicorn. I have some lessons to teach. Hard lessons." 

Number one urged Wulfe, "You know what happened to her. Share it with us. It'll be easier to heal her if we know what she's been through."

Wulfe stared at him and responded, "Maybe it's better that you don't know, at least not yet. Treat her. She has bullets in her and experimental drugs that have slowed down her metabolism, so her body isn't eliminating the drugs quickly."

Damon contemplated the situation and demanded, "But how did she manage to escape if she's full of drugs? What is she?"

Wulfe locked eyes with Damon and revealed, "Your babies, they combined their magic with yours, amplifying its strength. You noticed how. It gave Rob and Jake physical bodies for a few hours. They awakened her and set her free. These marks on her neck, they'll never fade. They are their symbol of love. They made her experience true love."

Number four interjected, "You better tell us everything."

Wulfe smiled, cautioning them, "You don't fully understand what you're asking for. It might consume you with the need for revenge, causing you to forget her. Removing these memories won't be easy, not even with telepathy. I can't erase it from her mind, even if I wanted to."

Number one stared intently at Wulfe and insisted, "Tell me. I need to know."

Wulfe remained silent, instead transmitting the information directly into his mind. Number four spoke softly, "My guess is that you're going after Krycheck."

Wulfe nodded, his expression turning cruel and inhuman, radiating a coldness that sent shivers down their spines.

Number one knew that this would take some doing. He knew Mimi much better than Mimi knew, and she would twist herself into knots over and over because of this. Wulfe teleported somewhere before he could say anything. 

Mimi was now back in the pack. It would be time for love, time for the wedding at some point, time for healing, and damon was thankful that time was something that they had. It would be a new time entire pack. The Pack was now almost everyone already part of fleas and missions. Saving would be their job, and Mimi would get over this. He would show her what love really was. 

He took a breath, no he could not. He took her out of the pack, no he could not take her back. He teleported her to Colin's. He was on one base; he went to Mariella, took her hand, and teleported with her to one bedroom in Ireland, undressed her, and ravished her. Time after time, he could not deal with what Mimi had gone through. Not at all.

His shock went via hive mind, focused salvatores to work, to make missions, and the same went with boys and wolves. No one thought of Mimi. Damon had unleashed a strong psychic impulse via pack bonds. he was not thinking about weddings, not about love, nothing but trying to unload this feeling out of his mind.