Pack of Lies, page 38
Hold the door. Keep them out. The GPRE would save us.
Well, they would save their own fucking asses, and saving us was the only way to do that.
Having a purpose had decreased my anxiety, letting me breathe evenly for the first time since being kidnapped. Three and Thorn took charge, the two of them confident in their instructions as we shoved the two bedframes in front of the door, all of us piling on for the inevitable attempts of our captors to get inside.
Then the attempts had started.
Guards shoving and whaling on the door, trying to move us. Everyone was sweating from the effort of keeping the door closed, fear scents heavy in the air. It continued for ages. My fingers clutched Thorn’s, unwilling to let her go even as she stood back to let the cameras capture everything. I couldn’t count the minutes because I kept losing track when the gunshots from outside distracted me.
They didn’t make many attempts to shoot their way through the door.
It was metal. Their guns weren’t strong enough and neither were their bodies. Not against so many of us. Not when desperation tinged our actions and only irritation and a paycheque drove them.
“We’re almost there!” Three shouted. “Hear that gunfire? That’s the GPRE coming in hot.”
We hoped.
All of us knew it wasn’t a guarantee.
But we had to hope.
With renewed vigour we leaned against the door, keeping it shut.
A body banged against it.
The bedframe squeaked but didn’t budge.
More banging, one after the other. We were slowly pushed back, inch by inch. Our pushing was no match for a bunch of alphas. Their auras were stronger, threatening to suffocate us. It got worse when the door was open a crack, scents streaming in more strongly.
A few more hard shoves had us scrambling to push the door closed. You could fit a flat hand through the crack.
Then a fisted one.
My eyes widened when a small ball was tossed through the gap. “Get down!” I shouted.
None of us were fast enough to fully prepare for the flash bang. It blinded me, making my eyes sting. I lost my grip on Thorn as I instinctively tried to cover them. There was a shrill screech in my ears, then they rang and rang and rang.
I reached out, trying to follow Thorn’s scent to find her again, but the smell of smoke hung heavy in the air.
Smoke and alphas.
The bedframes were shoved out of the way, the door flung open. I couldn’t be certain what was happening around me, still temporarily blinded, but my sense of smell was telling me we’d been breached, that and the movement of the beds I was crouched on.
Thorn wouldn’t have as many ways to know what was happening. Her sense of smell wasn’t good enough.
I tried to find her again but ran into a big chest that reeked of sweat and chives. My nose wrinkled. My vision was coming back, slowly but surely. The continued gunshots weren’t doing anything for my ears.
My attempt to scramble back from the unfamiliar man was stopped by a painful, bruising grip on my forearm.
This wasn’t the GPRE. They wouldn’t be that rough.
I thrashed.
He held me tighter.
My throat opened and I screamed.
Sweet blackberries and orange came up close to me again, and the grip on me dropped.
What was happening? Two vague blobs were all I could see. One small — Thorn. One big — the man who’d been holding me. They grappled, the bigger one obviously winning. Both headed toward the door, a glow of bright light that was clear to my spotty vision.
I followed, tripping over my feet.
“Thorn!” My voice was hoarse from the screaming and the lack of water and being drugged.
She spun to look at me. I could finally make out her features. Panicked. They were panicked. The man caught her arm, bruising her like he’d bruised me, and I reached for her. She reached back, but her fingers only grazed mine before someone jerked us apart.
An arm around my waist hauled me back, further into the room.
A bunch of omegas hovered in the corner, all in various states of distress. I kicked and shouted and struggled, confused why they were herding Thorn out while I was being pushed in.
My elbow caught my new captor across the nose, blood spurting from it. The move was pure luck, but I wriggled from his grasp and sprinted.
Wind rushed in my ears, which still couldn’t quite hear. Nothing was clear around me, not even as I veered through the door and into the lighter area. Her silver hair, though, was a beacon. I followed it, shoving past guards and trying not to trip over bodies on the floor.
I was caught again before I reached her, but the scent filling my nostrils brought overwhelming relief.
Wheat and hazelnuts.
Tears dripping down my flushed cheeks, I sobbed. “Reese,” I whimpered.
I still wanted to get to Thorn, but something was wrong. She was getting closer to the railing. Too close. She was being crowded back by the guard she’d saved me from, and if she got closer to that railing — he could push her over.
It all happened within the span of seconds, faster than my blurry vision and dulled senses could follow.
Gunshot.
Scream.
Shout.
Fuzzy movement.
More screams.
One was mine.
My mouth dropped open, sheer terror washing over me.
FIFTY-THREE
DENZEL
We thought we’d made it in time.
It had been so close. The omegas had done what they needed to do and kept the Centre’s guards out.
We’d relaxed too fucking soon.
Guns had fired from behind us, forcing us to flatten ourselves to the wall. There was a loud bang, more full-bodied and long than a gunshot. Smoke poured out of the omega room, marring the scents of Marlowe and Thorn that I was clinging to like a lifeline.
They’d flash banged a group of helpless omegas.
A vision of Thorn on the downtown cement, muscles spasming, flashed through my mind. I’d never been able to get it out since I came back to the apartment to find out she’d been in the hospital. It wasn’t an accurate picture, because I hadn’t been there.
But I fucking should have been.
And I needed to be there now if she was convulsing on the floor of that room.
My aura exploded outward. Reese kept his grip, barely. If he went berserk here, the GPRE would know about him. A whole new host of problems for us, but I knew his aura would crack if something happened to either of our omegas.
“Reese, get Marlowe. Quentin, the other omegas,” I barked out orders, hoping they listened.
Thorn had decided I needed to be pack lead for this. I couldn’t let her down. She’d told me I could do it, but what I couldn’t do was bear the weight of it if something happened to either of them.
I lowered my weapon, stepping into the smoke billowing from the room.
Anyone bigger than me, I punched. If my fist came back smelling like alpha, I stabbed. It was a fast-paced haze of blood and scents and auras trying to overwhelm me, but I wouldn’t be overwhelmed. She was close. I felt it, a sixth sense pulling me despite the smoke making it difficult to use my nose.
Marlowe shouted her name, the word weak above the chaos.
She was close but heading away from the direction I’d been barrelling. I turned on my heel, shoved past a guard, and saw her.
A guard was crowding her closer and closer to the railing. I broke into a sprint.
She was the only omega being singled out. All the others were in the room, and Quentin would make sure no one hurt them in the meantime, but Thorn…
I was only a few feet from her when I heard the shot.
I didn’t need to think about it.
My body dropped into a crouch and I dove for her, watching her expression change from determined defiance to fear.
The shot might not even be heading to her, but the guard was, and she was too fucking close to that railing. I needed to protect her from both.
Thorn screamed once, trying to twist out of the way when the bastard put his hands on her.
“Reach for me!” I shouted.
Her hand whipped out and I tried to snatch it, but he’d already pushed her. Her delicate body pinwheeled backwards, tipping, tipping, tipping over the rail.
I could stop the momentum from my running leap before I went over, but if I did I wouldn’t reach her in time. She was almost upside down, and I felt like I was watching in slow motion, but I wasn’t.
I had a split second to decide.
If we went over that railing, we could both die. I didn’t know what part of the warehouse we were over or what we would land on.
But if she had the tiniest chance of surviving if I went over too, so be it.
I didn’t stop myself.
My momentum carried me over the flimsy low railing, my arms just able to grab her before we free fell separately. I clutched Thorn to my chest, curling my body around hers as we plummeted through the air.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I thought of Marlowe. Reese had him; I’d caught the barest glimpse. Marlowe was fine, was safe, and he needed Thorn the same way I needed Thorn. If the universe decided they didn’t need me anymore, they would survive it.
Together.
The way it always should have been if I hadn’t been an idiot and ultimately put us in this situation.
It felt like we were falling forever, adrenaline making my heart race, but it couldn’t have been that long. I pressed my lips to her hair, tucking my chin to my chest and trying to make sure not a single part of her hit whatever we fell on down there.
My body hit the ground at a velocity that made my head pound, and before I could assess the damage the world went black.
FIFTY-FOUR
THORN
From the moment the flash bang went off until the weightless fall to the distant ground, everything was blurry. A migraine had my head pounding, my muscles throbbing so aggressively I could hardly keep myself upright. I was conscious through sheer force of will.
And because Marlowe had been touched.
Rage had coursed through me, the kind I’d never had on my own behalf.
I’d been experimented on, and I didn’t feel that kind of fury towards the Centre. But towards the man who’d tried to manhandle my mate? I was seething.
He didn’t seem to like me, either. He’d crowded me out of the room, back and back and back until my body was pressed to metal.
Then there had been the gunshot.
Where had the gunshot landed? I didn’t know, but it happened at the same time as the shove that sent me reeling.
That sent me over.
In Denzel’s arms.
I’d watched the calculation flicker through his expression. He could have stopped himself. It happened fast, but he could have. His agility was better than mine, and all his momentum was his own.
He didn’t let me fall alone. We went over together. I was cradled in his arms with his lips on my hair, how I’d imagined he would touch me back before I found out about the lies.
The impact with the floor knocked the wind out of me, and I wasn’t even the one who took the brunt of it. For a second I lay panting, staring at the high ceiling of beams and suspended chains. I was terrified to move. His chest was rising and falling beneath me. That had to mean something, but would I like what I saw if I rolled off him?
Footsteps thundered toward us, and I hoped it was the GPRE. I saw black helmets upstairs — that was the GPRE, finally finding the omegas they should have been saving fucking sooner.
More agents surrounded us.
Finally, I numbly rolled over.
Blood drenched the knees of my pants as they hit the ground, warm and sticky. It was a sharp contrast to the rest of the cement, which was chilled. Cold hands, warm knees. I swallowed thickly, looking at Denzel.
His expression was twisted with pain, his eyes squeezed shut. A wound on his side wept blood, but I couldn’t find what caused it. Nothing we landed on. Had he been injured before? His head was bleeding too, less than his side.
I reached a shaking hand to brush my fingers through his hair.
My head was peaceful, the migraine giving me the room to suck in his scent of ginger and molasses. That wouldn’t last long, not after the flash bang had distressed my system. My stomach was turning already, my muscles clenched so tight they trembled.
“Thorn!” Marlowe threw his body at me, getting blood all over himself too.
I clutched at him with my free hand, the other on Denzel’s forehead. He was breathing, but he hadn’t woken up. How long should he be unconscious after hitting the ground that hard? Was this normal?
“Tell me you’re OK,” Marlowe asked.
He was staring at Denzel too.
“I’m fine,” I said, swallowing. “He took the impact.”
We went silent, staring at him.
Reese fell to Denzel’s other side, reaching his fingers behind the man’s head to feel for any wounds. It couldn’t be sanitary, his fingers dirty from the raid, but none of us were patient enough to wait for a medic. The GPRE agents were on their comms calling for one.
Quentin careened to a stop a moment later, staring at his brother with a curse. The beta took in the scene from a distance. The blood Marlowe and I were sitting in. The unconscious state.
“Sweetness, move over,” he instructed, going for the source of the bleeding.
We should stem the flow. I should have thought of that, but my brain was muddled. I scooted across the cement, leaving a smear of red.
Quentin found the injury easily, pressing fabric onto it. “Gunshot wound,” he explained. “A graze. The bullet was meant for you but hit the guard who pushed you. I guess it caught Denzel on the way through.”
Who tried to shoot me?
It wasn’t important, really.
What was important was whether Denzel would wake up. He hadn’t yet. Not so much as a groan had left him. The bullet graze wasn’t good, but what had the power to ruin him was the head wound or if he’d somehow injured his neck or spine.
Medics appeared with a stretcher before he’d moved, and I allowed myself to numbly be directed out of the way. If the medics were here, the building was clear. Safe. In theory. I still wasn’t sure of my safety with the GPRE, but I had gone on the internet to help call out their practices.
I might still be streaming on the internet.
That had to afford me some immunity because the public would ask about me. Right?
My fingers reached up to stroke at one earring. Maybe it was best I kept them in. Mercury had informed me they wouldn’t stop recording.
Medical terms were thrown around, a brace placed around Denzel’s neck. Marlowe was clinging to Quentin and I with tears streaming down his face. When the medics moved Denzel to a stretcher, I crawled forward. They tried to move me away, but I shook my head and shoved past them.
I pressed my fingers to his sweaty forehead and kissed his cheek, his stubble brushing against my lips.
“Hey Denzel,” I whispered with a sniffle. “Wake up. Please. Come on, you’re not going to make me go to a hospital again, are you?”
My laugh was weak at the silly joke. I’d follow him into a silver metal room if I needed to and if it meant he would be OK.
Fuck, I needed a sign that he was going to be OK.
I let him go, ready to hand him off to the paramedics so they could keep doing their jobs, but a twitch in his face stopped me. I might have imagined it, but no. There it was again. His eyelids fluttered and his jaw twitched, and then he was looking at me. His blue eyes were glazed over, but he reached out and I snatched his hand with both of mine.
“I love you,” he whispered.
My heart pounded.
It was a little rude of him, to be an absolute asshole and then confess this when it was impossible to deny that I loved him back.
“Love you too.” My words were equally quiet, as private as possible with the paramedics hovering, waiting to take him away.
He looked relieved to hear it, eyes closing again. He grit his teeth when they lifted him on the stretcher, though, so he was conscious enough to be alert. With the rest of the pack’s hands touching me like I was going to vanish into thin air, we trailed after the medics as they took Denzel out, still in a bit of a daze.
They insisted on looking me over once we got to the hospital.
I hated it, but couldn’t say no. Not when Quentin and Reese were staring at me like they worried I was going to fall apart. I was fine. I’d puked into a bucket when my migraine had hit me again in the ambulance, but I was fine.
The doctor gave me pain meds and ear and eye drops for the damage done by the flash bang and the smoke. She gave the same to Marlowe. Both of us refused to leave the waiting area to get seen, needing to be there for the first news of Denzel.
I had the ulterior motive of not being comfortable in medical rooms, but mainly it was for Denzel.
He’d been in and out of consciousness on the ride over. When he got here, he needed an x-ray and some scans. Their initial assessment was that there wasn’t lasting damage. His aura had strengthened him in advance of the impact. They still needed the scans to make sure.
“He’s ready for visitors.”
The nurse’s voice had us all upright. It had been an hour. A painful hour of waiting, a stressful hour where we also couldn’t get a hold of Jubilee for some reason. Quentin was outside now, power calling every person he knew to figure out why Jubilee, Dash, and Mercury weren’t answering their phones. Neither was Ambrose, but apparently he just didn’t.
Worry ate at me, but I couldn’t imagine the Centre could have done anything to Jubilee. I’d seen Dr. Hellwood struggling as GPRE agents shoved him into the backseat of a police cruiser. He’d been the one to shoot at me, realizing too late that I was the one who’d blown up his operation. It was his bullet that had grazed Denzel.
My understanding was that Dr. Hellwood had a hand in everything to do with the experiments.
