EXposed, page 39
“Miss P., where’s Logan?”
She stills and finally faces me. Her pained expression does nothing to alleviate the severity of what she says next. “This was never about you, Dylan.”
All at once, I feel like my body suddenly froze over as I realize that this was in face a trap, just not me. It was for Logan. Somehow, it makes sense, although I don’t actually get why yet. I should have known that a target on my back doesn’t always mean I’m the only one in danger. Everyone I love is compromised, because of me. My throat shrinks in on itself, and my heart begins an assault on my ribcage. Though panic is my dominant emotion, rage is a close second.
She betrayed us. She betrayed him.
Like the rest of my body, my voice turns to ice. “What have you done to him?” I question, my voice deceptively calm.
“Nothing,” she replies vehemently. Like putting some emotion in her tone is going to make her less of a traitor. “I promise you, no one is going to hurt anyone. You’ll see him again soon, and in good shape.”
“If they’re not going to hurt him, then why am I here?”
She sighs, her troubles obviously a heavy weight on her shoulders. “I’m supposed to keep you until they’re done. You can’t interfere with this. Look, Dylan, you have my word, he’s –”
“Your word means f*ck all,” I snap.
This is the first time I have ever spoken to anyone this way, let alone a teacher whom I used to admire. It shocks her into silence.
“He trusted you! He put our lives in your hands. Our secrets. And you,” – I chortle a humorless laugh – “you’ve been planning to stab him in the back the whole time.”
She doesn’t even bother to deny it. She just stares at me with that plastered fake regret on her face, shining in her eyes.
“You know what the worst part is?” I say cynically. “I looked up to you. Even when he and I had a fight about your history, even when we broke up, I never thought of you in a bad way. I was so jealous; how could I ever deserve him when he had someone like you?”
She grimaces as if in pain, as if she’s capable of any guilt at this moment, and turns away from me.
“If anything happens to him, for your own sake, you better kill me, because I will come after you with everything I’ve got, and I am too stubborn to ever stop,” I tell her.
“Dylan,” she starts, “you have to belie–”
“Don’t,” a voice says.
At first, I think it’s mine, because I was just thinking something that starts with that. But then I realize the voice belongs to a man standing outside the room where I can’t see him. I’m nearly surprised I didn’t sense him approaching, but I’m too angry to even care.
A tall man steps in through the door, carrying a briefcase by his side. His demeanor suggests authority and demands respect, but he has done nothing to earn mine.
“Where is my boyfriend?” I demand icily.
The man pretends I’m not even there and speaks directly to Miss P. “Leave her.”
“We can’t keep her in the dark,” she objects. “Maybe if she knows the whole story, she’ll understand why –”
“It’s no use trying to reason with them. Patricia, you haven’t dealt with them in years, and even then you didn’t know much. You don’t know what they’re really like.”
The insult, when combined with my rage, almost makes me demand who he is and where they’re keeping Logan. However, that’s the moment I decide to keep my mouth shut, because I suddenly notice the power play at hand. In my first kidnapping, Reena was like the unwilling prison guard, while her brother Jason was the abusive and power-hungry ward, and their uncle Colton was the mastermind. In this case, if I am to take anything she said as sincere, Patricia is filling in the same role Reena did, while this man holds some power over her. But the only way I’m going to get to the true bad guys behind this operation is if I let the two people in front of me have it out on each other and say something that will help me find Logan. All I need to do is a little bit of nudging, and Patricia’s next words offer my first option.
“Dad, she’s my student,” she replies half-heartedly. “I know what kind of person she is.”
“No, you don’t,” he argues vehemently. “Because while you think you know the human side of her, trust me when I tell you that the other side is violent, scheming and completely untrustworthy.”
Again, I let the insults go for the possibility of an opportunity presenting itself.
“Hold up, back up a minute,” I interject, surprised. “Dad? As in the same dad you allegedly can’t stand – and left, by the way – because he was trying to control your life?”
He gives her a knowing look. “You see? Not two words in, and she’s already trying to pit us against each other. That is what they do.”
Damn, he’s smart, I curse my luck.
“That’s not what she’s trying to do,” Patricia protests. “She just wants an explanation because she thinks I betrayed them.”
“You did betray us,” I accuse her.
“That’s it, I won’t have her antagonizing us just to get us to argue,” he declares. “I’m putting her down right now.”
All at once, my heart drops and my head starts to spin as terror settles for good. None of my kidnapping tactics mean anything if he’s going to murder me right this second.
Oh God. Shit.
“No, please, you can’t,” I plead. “Look, I’ll shut up. You don’t have to kill me.”
For the first time, he looks at me point-blank with a shocked look on his face. “What? Kill you?” he repeats, looking offended. “I’m not going to do that.”
I hesitate, my heart still leaping bounds by the second. “Y-you’re not?”
“Of course not,” he affirms. “We’re not monsters. I’m just going to put you to sleep.”
“Do we have to do that?” Patricia asks with a pained grimace.
He pulls out his briefcase and starts rummaging through it. “Yes, we do.”
Oh this is bad, this is really bad, I start to panic again. If I’m asleep, how the h*ll am I going to get information out of them? How can I stop them before they do anything to Logan?
“Why?” I dare to question. “I said I’ll shut up. I promise I won’t say a word.”
Ignoring me again, he silently pulls out a syringe and a bottle of some sort of clear liquid. Patricia chooses then to leave the room. As he prepares the syringe, I cower back as far as my restraints will allow me.
“Uh, Dad,” Patricia calls from out the hall.
“What is it?” he replies, absent minded.
Her answer is to walk back in tentatively, with John’s arm wrapped threateningly around her torso. He must have gotten worried when I didn’t answer his calls and come to find me himself. I thank whatever heavenly forces may exist that Patricia and her dad didn’t move me from the apartment, where John remembered I told him Logan and I were going.
“John!” I cheer, relief flooding through me at the sight of my roommate.
Patricia’s father seems to recognize him immediately, and by the dangerous look in his eyes, he is not happy that the scum of The Descendant’s hierarchy has his daughter in a lock.
“Uncuff her, right now,” John orders.
“Young man,” he says menacingly, “if you do not let go of my daughter –”
Papa Peters is rendered speechless by the entrance of my cousin right behind them. By the fear on his face, he knows exactly who – and what – Kevin is. He is now outnumbered. Kevin glances at me with a silent look of appraisal.
Oh thank God, we have a chance, I rejoice.
“Kevin,” I sigh.
“Dylan, are you hurt?” John asks.
“I’m okay.”
Satisfied, Kevin turns toward the now non-intimidating man and takes a few steps toward him until they’re almost toe-to-toe. Kevin is the taller of the two, and he glares down at his opponent like a tiger huffing at a cat stupid enough to defy him. The man is visibly afraid, yet he does his best to hide it. His pride keeps him from taking those few steps back and drives him to lift up his chin defiantly.
Before he could even think of raising the syringe and using it as a weapon, Kevin roughly yanks it away from Peters’ hands and smashes it on the floor, stepping on it for good measure.
“Here’s what going to happen,” Kevin gravely starts. “First, you’re going to uncuff her.”
There’s a pause, followed by Kevin raising his eyebrow at the man. He gets the message, but he still refuses to move. Then just before Kevin takes the final step forward, Patricia tries to get away from John, but he holds her firmly in his grasp.
“I’m doing what he says,” she tells him. He doesn’t budge. “John, you have us outmatched, there’s no point in me trying anything. But you can walk with me if it makes you feel better.”
John hesitates only a second before letting her go. He does not take his eyes off her for one second as she walks toward me. Completely avoiding my eyes, she pulls out a key and uses it to free me. It’s such a relief to be in control of the situation again. I want to run to both of my friends for a hug, but I know there’s no time for my comfort just yet.
Patricia’s father remains quiet and unmoving from then on out, but it doesn’t matter because Kevin only needs to give him a push. In a few second, we have them both cuffed to each other and against the window, using the same restraints they had on me.
“Look, guys, you have to listen to me,” Patricia tries to reason with us. “You have this all wrong. We’re not trying to hurt any–”
She cuts herself off when she sees me approaching her. I have completely lost patience for her nonsense, and I am just itching for some payback. Unfortunately, Kevin grabs my arm and stops me dead in my tracks.
“I’m going to call Cade,” he says. “We should wait for your pack.”
“No way,” I refuse. “They have Logan. Who knows what they’ll do to him the longer we wait?”
He sighs and brings his voice down so only I hear. “Well, can you at least keep your anger in check? I have a feeling they won’t respond to violence as truthfully as you’re hoping, and that will only prolong us finding Logan even more.”
Based on what just happened, I see the logic in his observation. The guy may have spoken up for his daughter, but he did it with so little emotion, I’m not sure if he even meant it to be as a gesture of affection for her or hatred of John. Patricia will say anything, and her father more than proved he doesn’t care about his own safety when he defied a werewolf who can literally kill him with a snap of his fingers if he wants to.
“Fine,” I relent. “But I’m still interrogating them.”
“Dylan –”
“Don’t argue with me, Kev. I have to find him.”
He studies my face for a moment. I know he’s worried what I might do, but I try to convey to him without words how much I need this. I can’t afford to be careless.
“Alright,” he agrees. “But I’m helping.”
CHAPTER 38
Logan
Bright spots dance in the shadows behind my eyelids. They almost resemble shining stars, but they get brighter and brighter until I can no longer stand it. For a millisecond, I open my eyes to a sharp white light that somehow pierces through to my brain. It is painful, forcing me to squeeze my eyes shut in the hopes that it will go away.
Where am I?
Something cold is touching the back of my body, making me stiff in the most uncomfortable way. The weirdest part is the heaviness settling in my muscles. It doesn’t take me long to realize that part of it is due to the belts wrapped around my torso, waist area and ankles. The restraints are not the only thing though, I also feel weaker than usual. It’s not exactly the same as being drugged; it’s more like my body suddenly deflated and I didn’t have as much energy as I’m used to having.
As my eyes adjust to the light, I open them again and take a tentative look around. The light is coming from what looks like those big lamps doctors use on their operating tables. In fact, I seem to be lying on one of those tables myself. Even my head is kept still with a tight belt wrapped around my forehead. I am alone in a big room, and I can’t move my head to see how far it extends.
Again, I wonder where I am and how I got here. In an attempt to make sense of the situation, I struggle to spring up to memory what happened the last time I was conscious. It hits me as suddenly as a car accident; the last thing I remember is Dylan’s muffled call of my name, and then getting hit over the head hard.
Dylan! Dylan, are you okay? I call out to her frantically. Where are you?
Like I said already, I am completely alone in here. No heartbeat or footsteps anywhere nearby. In fact, I can barely hear my own breathing, and my heartbeat is silent. I can feel it beating around like crazy in my ribcage though, so I know I have one. Considering the fact that I can hear my movements rattle the table that I’m on, I’m also going to assume I haven’t gone deaf.
So why can’t I hear my heartbeat? And where is Dylan?
I try calling out her name again, but I can’t even feel our mind link. It’s different from the times she would intentionally block me, or even the time when I was in a coma and I couldn’t reach her properly. This is completely new. There is no presence to reach out to. I can’t feel anyone but me in my mind. It’s just white noise. I don’t know how that could be possible, and it scares me.
As petrified as I am for Dylan right now, my training urges me to concentrate on getting myself out, and put aside the guilt over the fact that I may have let her down after I just promised not to let anything happen to her.
Analyze the situation, I tell myself.
Like I first deduced, I am tied to what looks like an operating table with belts keeping me in place. I try to wiggle out of the restraints to at least get an idea of how large it is, but they’re too tight. The room is too empty for my liking. It feels large, though. I can see a roof, way up high, which suggests the room actually is as big as I fear, maybe even bigger. The worst part is the inexplicable reason why I feel disconnected. My wolf side has definitely been muted, but the reason behind it is a mystery, and the effect is unlike anything I have ever experienced.
Focus on what you can make sense of, I tell myself.
I need to figure out where I am, and that starts with the only part that I can actually see; the roof. It’s hard to make out what the ceiling is made out of, what with the bright lights in my face, but after a while, I figure it out.
It’s a hangar, I conclude with astonishment.
This unexpected discovery is both good and bad. It’s bad because it means whoever owns it is either very important or very dangerous, and that means I am in serious trouble. But it’s good because if Dylan was taken too, she would be inside here with me, so either she’s still unconscious or she’s not here at all. Unless they got another hangar, in which case it’s an even bigger problem.
Before I have time to consider the consequences that come with that option, I hear footsteps approaching. There’s at least three of them echoing in the room, which is why I can hear them when my senses have basically been reduced to human capacity.
“Who’s there?” I ask, trying to command as much authority to my voice as I can.
No reply. I wasn’t expecting them to answer, but I had hoped I would be wrong.
The footsteps get closer and closer until they are at the foot of the table where I’m lying. They’re clever standing there, because as hard as I try, I can’t see their faces. They whisper among themselves, and it drives me crazy that I can’t hear even that.
“Show yourselves,” I challenge them.
Their whispers become more urgent, and then stop altogether. I wait, the tension making me want to yell at them. Then, they approach in their white lab coats, and their four faces come into view, two women and two men. One of the women has a cold and calculating look on her face, while the other one looks anywhere but my face. One of the men also stands out. He seems older than the rest, around 50 maybe, with a salt-and-pepper hairline. He stands in the middle, giving off an aura of authority, while the other man just looks like a doctor-in-training, eager to learn all he can.
“Why am I here?” I demand.
“Subject has lost heightened sense of hearing,” the man with grey hair suddenly says. “We can safely conclude all other abilities have been reduced to acceptable normal as well.”
“What does that mean?” I go on.
“We should have kept him under sedation,” the cold woman protests.
I ignore her and look at the man closely. Something about him tugs at my memory. “I know you from somewhere,” I struggle to remember.
“That might have contaminated the tests,” the other man objects to the woman’s request.
“Can we at least gag him?” the nervous woman asks, hushing her voice like that would keep me from hearing her.
“We need to evaluate his responses to the tests,” the older man says. “If he has something to say, we need to record it.”
That’s when I finally realize that the word “test” has been mentioned twice already. That can’t be good. They must be descendants, and this has something to do with Dylan, I just know it.
“Begin the blood extraction,” the older man orders.
Just as they all take their places around the table, I suddenly realize who the man is. His eyes and some of his features resemble someone I’m familiar with.
“Barnes,” I say with shock.
The four of them freeze, exchanging bemused looks with each other.
“Tim Barnes. You’re John’s uncle,” I state.
They look to the older man for guidance. He does not acknowledge my statement, and simply lifts a needle and uncaps it. This is serious if even the cold woman is waiting for his signal.
“Don’t let yourselves get distracted,” he tells them. “Let’s finish the tests so we can start the real challenge.”
