Chapter 44
Hazard hopped off the transport truck that had driven him back to base from the commercial airport after his early morning flight. He’d spent the past two days at a camp just for omegas. However, there’d been much more than the sports, crafts, and activities expected at a typical sleep away camp. There’d been guest speakers giving lectures on how to navigate adulthood as an omega, signups for financial aid, and presentations outlining multiple career paths. Hazard had spoken to the camp attendees at large, and then several more times in small groups to allow for discussion and answering questions.
His goal hadn’t been to recruit any of the young omegas for the military, but to instill in them the belief and confidence that they could take whatever life path they wanted because it was their life. He’d actually enjoyed talking to the youths about his career as a soldier, but he was glad to be back to the familiarity of his usual day-to-day.
He made his way to the 448 barracks, hoping the rest of the pack was back by now. He’d heard they’d been sent to bring in a foreign cartel leader, but had received no updates on their progress or return.
After crossing the parade ground, their barracks came into view. He jogged up to the front door, prepared to quickly go in, throw down his bag, and hit the mess for lunch. Those airline peanuts had only made him hungry for real food. He walked inside and saw that the squad had beat him home. Ortiz sat at the kitchen table and Jax was on the couch. Ice wasn’t in the common area. He must be in his room or somewhere on base.
“Hey, you’re back,” Ortiz said.
“Yeah. The trip was a success.”
Jax gave him a strained smile.
“That’s good to hear, man.”
Hazard nodded but didn’t say anything else. Something was wrong. His packmates were behaving oddly. They were unusually stiff. And when he breathed in, he scented stress and worry on them both. He abruptly turned to the major.
“Where’s Ice?”
Ortiz and Jax exchanged a short glance before Ortiz rose from the table. She came toward him, her expression tense and grave.
Hazard’s heart froze in his chest. No. She wasn’t about to tell him the worst had happened. “Major, where is Royce?” he asked again, this time with a hint of panic in his voice.
Ortiz stopped directly in front of him.
“Ice was taken on our last mission,” she said quietly.
His heart unfroze, only to start pounding with fear and adrenaline. Ice wasn’t dead, but he’d been captured.
“ What ? Then why the fuck are we sitting here on base? Let’s go get him!”
Ortiz shook her head.
“We can’t yet. Unfortunately, we don’t know who took him or where they are. We have to wait on intel before we can begin the rescue operation.”
“Did anyone try to scent track him?”
Jax stood and answered.
“We both did. Ortiz and I tracked Ice to where they put him in a vehicle. We lost the trail after that.”
“Fuck.” Hazard strode over to his room. He threw his bag inside, uncaring where it landed. Then he turned around and headed for the front door.
“Where are you going?” Ortiz called out.
“To gear up,” he said as he yanked the door open. “I want to be ready to move the second we find out where he is.”
* * *
November 29, 1982
Time: Unknown
Location: Unknown
Ice expected to be tortured by his captors. And he was. Number Five doled out vicious punches to his gut and zapped him a couple of times with a stun gun while the leader asked him questions. No matter the pain, Ice gave nothing beyond his name, rank, and service number, as he’d been trained to do if captured.
But he noticed something was off about the interrogation. The punches and Taser shots hurt like a son of a bitch. But they could have done much worse. He’d been trained in deep interrogation techniques and he knew the terrible methods that could be used in order to pull info out of someone. So why weren’t any of those techniques being used on him? He was damn near insulted at the weak effort they were putting in. Did they really expect him to cave and talk so easily?
Regardless, he’d given up nothing. His captors hadn’t seemed all that disappointed at his silence, leaving him to wonder if the interrogation was a front and something else — something worse — was coming.
Currently, the lackluster interrogation was on hold. The leader and Number Five had left some time ago. Ice was being watched by two guards. Numbers Two and Three. He was in the same room he’d been in since he’d been brought to this location — which appeared to be an abandoned corporate high rise. His wrists and ankles were both bound with duct tape, his wrists behind his back.
Going by the alternating sunlight and darkness peeking around the corner of the shade in the room’s single window, he’d been here for two days. The mercs had escorted him to the bathroom several times a day. They also brought him food that he refused to eat. He only drank the water provided after sniffing it to make sure it wasn’t poisoned.
Now, he was sitting here waiting for whatever was to come next. As he waited, his mind turned to plotting out his escape. He had no doubt that his squad was looking for him. But he had to try and get out on his own. He just needed to be smart about it to make sure the attempt was successful.
He flexed his wrists. He’d need to get loose first. Take out the guards second. Third, get his hands on the door key and a weapon. He’d worry about the next steps once he was out of this room. The best time to act would be during his next bathroom break. It’d be better if there was only one guard instead of two. But two was better than the six who’d originally captured him.
On the other side of the room, Numbers Two and Three lounged in their chairs, weapons across their laps. They were still in their balaclavas and goggles. Number Three stared at Ice. Ice stared back, but while he was still, Number Three restlessly drummed his fingers on top of the barrel of his rifle.
“Big bad wolf, huh? We should find out what’s behind that wolf mask.”
Number Two barked a hard laugh. “Probably an ugly motherfucker.”
“Has to be.” Three kicked at Two’s chair. “Go over there and take it off.”
Number Two shook his head. “Hell no. You take it off. I’m not getting any parts of me that close to his teeth so you can see what he looks like.”
Ice watched their back and forth. If one of them did try to remove his mask and balaclava, maybe he would take a bite out of them just for the hell of it.
Number Three scoffed. “Coward.”
“A coward who likes all of his fingers,” Two said, unfazed. “If you’re so brave you take it off.”
“Leave the stupid mask on then.”
Number Two settled more comfortably in his chair. “That was my plan.”
The debate over, it was quiet for several minutes. Then, Number Three’s radio crackled to life.
“The doctor is on site,” someone said on the other end of their comm link. “He’ll be there to see the prisoner in a few minutes.”
Number Three clicked the button on his radio to respond.
“Copy that. Prisoner is secure and ready.”
“Finally,” Number Two said with a tired sigh as he stood. “Let’s get this over with so we can go home.”
Ah. So, the interrogation was a front, as he’d suspected. He didn’t know why the doctor was coming. But their visit was more than likely the real reason for his capture. Ready to find out what this was all about, Ice waited, anticipation building in his chest with every passing minute.
On the other side of the door, a key turned in the lock. The door swung open and a short man, human by the smell of him, walked in. He wore a white lab coat over black scrubs. Like the soldiers, his face and head were covered by a plain black balaclava. A similarly dressed assistant, minus the lab coat, followed behind, pushing a metal cart carrying medical supplies. The guard who’d escorted the doctor closed and locked the door behind him.
“So. This is the specimen.”
The doctor came over, stopping right in front of Ice to stare down at him. Ice stared right back.
The doctor’s eyes were green. But unlike Hazard’s pretty green eyes, they didn’t have flecks of gold or sparkle with warmth. These eyes were cold and clinical. They looked at Ice as if he was less than human. Nothing more than the specimen he’d called him. If the doc was about to experiment on him, those eyes wouldn’t blink during the process.
Ice felt a flash of apprehension not knowing what this man was about to do to him. Was he going to experiment on him in some sick and twisted way? Ice pushed the apprehension down and stoically braced himself. Whatever happened he would endure and survive.
The assistant snapped on a pair of rubber gloves. Next, they picked up a pair of scissors from the tray while the doctor stood by and watched. Ice’s sleeve was cut away, baring his arm up past the elbow. The assistant stepped behind Ice, so he couldn’t see what was coming next.
Number Three moved a little closer, his rifle up.
“Move and I’ll—.”
Ice cut him off. “You’ll kneecap me. The threat has been noted,” he said dryly. He wasn’t going to flail around trying to resist. He was too well-trained for that. They might knock him out if he did and he wanted to be awake so he could follow whatever they were about to do.
A needle slid into his arm. He’d been injected twice more with the anti-shift serum, but this time they didn’t inject him with anything. Instead, the assistant drew blood. Behind his mask, Ice’s brows pulled together in a frown. What the hell did these people want with his blood?
Several vials worth of blood were drawn, each one safely stored in a small, metal container.
Ice knew he wouldn’t get an answer, but he asked anyway. “Why are you taking my blood?”
The doctor replied short and sharp.
“That’s classified, soldier.”
He didn’t get an answer, but he was given a clue. Going by word usage and the air of authority with which he spoke, the doctor was military. Current or former. And his accent was American. Midwestern. Was this doctor a traitor working for an enemy government or was he contracted by a private enterprise?
Once the syringe was returned to the cart, Ice thought they were finished. But blood wasn’t the only thing the doctor wanted.
The assistant picked up the scissors again. Ice’s uniform collar was cut away, exposing the area beneath his own balaclava. The assistant selected a new syringe. Ice inwardly cringed as they prodded the scent gland on his neck with gloved fingers. For the first time, his Instinct almost overrode his training. He did not like being touched there by a stranger. An enemy.
A picture of Hazard, the one person he would allow to touch his scent glands, flashed in his mind. Ice focused on Hazard’s face and forced himself to remain still and calm. He wouldn’t be able to get back to his lover if he lost control and they ended up killing him.
As he breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, the assistant pricked him with the fresh needle to draw secretions from the gland. After the needle slid out of his neck, the assistant passed the full vial to the doctor.
Ice watched as he held it up, eyeing the clear, amber liquid inside with a satisfied gleam in his eyes.
“Perfect,” he said before he passed it back to the assistant to be stored in a container with dry ice.
It made sense now why they’d kept him alive up to this point. Secretions drawn from a deceased shifter weren’t viable, as the enzymes broke down too quickly after death. If the fluid was going to be used for anything, it had to be taken from a living shifter.
Apparently they had all they needed. The assistant closed the storage case, pulled off his gloves, and threw them on the cart. The doctor gave him a nod.
“Good work.”
After one last look at Ice, the doctor indicated to the guard that he was ready to leave. The door was opened and they left, taking Ice’s blood and gland secretions with them.
“Let’s go get something to eat,” Number Three said. “This fucker ain’t going anywhere.”
Number Two shook his head. “You know one of us has to stay in here with him at all times.”
“Fine. You stay. I’ll be back in thirty.”
Number Three used the key looped on his wrist to unlock the door. He left, closing and relocking the door behind him.
Ice was left alone with Number Two, who slouched in his chair in a bored pose. Instead of finally learning the reason for his capture, Ice had more questions. Who were these people and why the hell did they want his blood and shifter secretions? And why his in particular?
He was burning with curiosity. However, finding out the answers to these questions wasn’t his main concern at the moment. They had what they needed from him, which meant he’d served his purpose. Now that he was no longer useful, they had no reason to keep him.
Best case scenario, he was let go. The mercenaries had been careful to keep their faces and affiliation hidden. Knowing that he couldn’t identify them for future retribution, they could simply drop him somewhere far from their location and let him make his own way back to Fort Grove. But they could also put a bullet in his head and leave him here to rot.
Ice wasn’t going to sit there and wait to see which plan they went with. He needed to figure out his escape now .