Free The Bureau (A Cage for Men and Wolves Book 1) by Michelle Kay

where she was chewing at her own arm to muffle her sobbing, was getting wide and dark. It had been almost an hour since she'd branded her new numbers, 1-2-4-0-1, into the right side of her neck, and the pain had only gotten worse.
    Just as she'd promised, she'd left Elliot bound to the couch, determined to make him watch. He'd tried to talk her out of it, which surprised her. He'd seemed so upset by the idea of her torturing herself. He'd seemed genuine .
    She hadn't been fooled, though, even with his shivering and sweating. Ignoring his insistence that the Bureau doesn't hold prisoners long enough for her to find anyone, Clover had pulled the glowing iron from the fire. The brochure had said the iron was electric and self-heating, but Fisher had left the cord needed for the process out of her parcel. She'd thought he'd done it on purpose so she'd have to do things the old fashioned way. Maybe he'd known that a bit of theatrics would help her cause. Or maybe he was just a sick old man.
    "I swear, if you walk away from this now, I won't mention it to anyone," Elliot had actually begged. "You really don't have to do this."
    Refusing to let his pleading sway her, she'd focused on the red bit of iron. She would remember the heat it cast on her face for the rest of her life. "Did you ever notice that your neighbor two doors down has an indentured werewolf?" She'd felt strangely detached from the situation, like someone else was driving her body. "I saw him while I was waiting to break into your house. He's like, eight. I could see his numbers from across the street."
    She'd set the brand back down in the fire, pulling a leather bit-and-buckle device from the kit. Elliot had been quiet, but she'd heard every heartbeat and every short breath from him as she unfastened the buckle.
    "I want you to think of this every time you see him." Her voice had been somber, even in her own ears, as she fit the flat, cushioned, leather bit into her mouth, hooking the buckle around the back of her head where her hair had been tied out of the way.
    Elliot's panic had peaked again as she'd leaned her head onto her embroidered chopping block that once had been a chair. Then the brand was in her hands again. She still couldn't remember picking it up. With each breath, the room had seemed to get quieter until the only sound she heard was her heart.
    Clover wiped her face with the dingy bathwater, the muffled sound of her own scream echoing inside her head. Her tears had dried, but the trauma had started a subtle quaking in her shoulders that she still couldn't stop. She would have to face her captive sooner or later, but as long as she wasn't crying, she figured her pride would be spared. 
    The extra clothes she'd brought from home defeated the purpose of her bath. They were filthy, but she wasn't ready to wear her uniform, and borrowing anything from her prisoner was out of the question. Too sore to give more than a passing concern for the state of her clothes, she stumbled her way to the kitchen where she filled a bag with ice for her neck. She felt dizzy and sick. A clear, plastic cling-bandage had been included with the kit, and she was relieved to find that it was pre-medicated with a subtle numbing agent. Without the distraction from her injury, she might have been surprised. It was more humane than she'd expected. According to the brochure it helped the healing process, but left the numbers visible for immediate identification.
    Finally, she moved back into the sitting room, settling in the chair she'd used as a butcher block. She knew her eyes were red and swollen, but Elliot stayed quiet. Near his feet she saw the branding iron, the carpet around it scorched. She remembered throwing it, but hadn't seen where it landed. It had been a reflex. And when she looked more closely, she saw small tags of flesh hanging off the numbers of the brand, and suddenly, Elliot's grey face made sense.
    She also realized the chair she sat in was now several feet