Chapter 30 #6
He quickly pulls another item from the compartment, a box filled with large capsules.
"What is that?" Simon asks, tense.
"Tracking capsules. The police will be able to locate us."
"If they take us underground, that won’t help much."
"It’s still a chance."
We all swallow the capsules, but it’s just in time.
The gunfire from our security dies down, and from both vans at least a dozen men pour out.
"Fuck, Blue, I can’t handle a dozen… too many paths, too many visions!"
"I know," he replies, grim.
Two masked men approach the limousine.
"They’re going to place two devices on the window, blow it, then pump something inside to knock us out," I say fast.
"I have masks…" Blue starts, and taps another button on his side, which opens a small compartment, revealing a few neatly tucked gas masks. Wow, he really is prepared. There are also two sets of handcuffs in there.
Blue and Simon make a move as if they want to take a mask out, but I stop them, the vision already showing me the outcome.
"It won’t work, through the second opening they’ll slide a barrel in and shoot if anyone tries to put one on."
Four seconds later it happens exactly like that.
Two masked men press small oval black devices to the side windows, there’s a strange hollow sound like air being sucked out, and two holes appear in the glass.
Then one of them attaches a tube to one of the openings and we hear the hiss of compressed gas flooding the inside of the limousine. Simon lets out a weak, high-pitched whimper.
"I’m sorry," I whisper. "Forgive me, Blue."
"There’s nothing to forgive."
My brain is working in overheat, and in the last half second I make another move. I grab the handcuffs and clasp them over my wrist and Blue’s. There’s sudden understanding on his face, and he slightly nods.
Then I close my eyes, and everything goes dark.
◆◆◆
I open my eyes slowly. It feels like coming out of a really deep sleep, the kind with no dreams, almost like hibernation.
Nothing really hurts, just a bit of stiffness in my neck, probably because I’m sitting and my head’s slumped forward onto my chest. I’m coming back to awareness weirdly slowly, like I have to carve my way through a fogged-up brain.
It’s hard to fully open my eyelids. I blink a few times. They feel heavy, like someone has put coins on them, and I try to push through.
Then I become aware of my body. I’m sitting with my arms pulled behind me, tied with something cold, probably a metal wire.
Smart choice. A lot of alphas can snap handcuffs, but a metal cable works on a different principle. It’s thin enough to cut into your skin if you try to break it and thick enough that it won’t give easily.
My legs are tied the same way.
There’s also something strapped to my chest. I figure it out fast, some kind of armor, maybe chain mail or a metal plate. It’s definitely there to block the capsule signal. Whoever set this up thought it through.
I blink again and finally look around. My vision adjusts.
Right in front of me, tied up the same way, except with regular rope instead of a metal cable, is Blue…
Fuck. I struggle to draw in air, I feel like I’m trapped in some kind of nightmare.
We’ve been kidnapped, there’s no way around it.
Blue’s head is down too, resting against his chest. He’s wearing the same kind of black armor over his chest and stomach. I feel a curse rising, frustration and something worse.
Блядь! Что происходит?[19]
Not this.
Just not this. Worst-case scenario… or close to it.
I don’t see Simon or Gerard anywhere.
There are two other men in the room with us. They’re standing with their backs to us, looking out a window in silence.
Both dressed in black, both wearing masks, both betas.
The place looks like some kind of old warehouse, maybe an attic storage space.
Metal walls with rusted beams, pipes everywhere, sheets of metal leaning against the wall.
There’s a heavy work table, the kind used for cutting tiles, and a spread of tools.
On their own they look harmless enough, if you think about construction work.
In the context of torture, they take on a very different meaning.
Because of the lingering haze, I can’t fully feel the danger yet, but with every drifting second it sinks in. I can’t break these restraints, which means Blue and I are basically dead.
The only question is how long. Whether they’ll take their time or just put bullets in our heads. Well, if that was the plan, they’d have done it already. Instead, they’re keeping us alive.
Fuck.
So it is the worst scenario. I realize the last thing I want to see in this world is Blue being tortured.
The thought twists my gut so hard I let out an involuntary sound, and that makes the betas turn around.
"He’s awake," one of them says.
The other leaves the room immediately.
Like the sound pulls him up, Blue stirs slightly and slowly lifts his head.
Someone took his glasses. He looks at me with those sapphire eyes.
There’s a strange calm in them. Acceptance, almost. I guess he meant it when he said he lived prepared for this moment.
I can’t say the same. I feel nerves, anger, despair. It’s all hitting me at once.
Why, why wasn’t my talent enough?
Sometimes I wish I were like Snow, able to see danger months or years ahead.
Why am I even surprised? Snow told me there would be more attempts waiting for us. Is this it? The one where I should break the rule and come back stronger?
I don’t get time to dig into it.
The door slams open and three people walk in. One I don’t recognize, his lower face covered by a mask. The other two… I know them all too well.
Swearing under my breath, I realize I’m looking at Marcel’s deceptively beautiful face.
And right behind him, like a loyal dog… Edgar.
His damn annoyingly handsome mug grins widely. Son of a bitch.
Marcel meets my eyes and immediately smiles, obviously triumphant.
I’m not even surprised it’s him. Marcel was always effective.
When he set his sights on something, he got it sooner or later.
Makes sense he found new allies. Very powerful ones at that.
Could it be their resources that allowed them to break into Blue’s electronic glasses?
But if it was them, how could they organize this kidnapping so quickly, not even half an hour after I cut the connection?
Well. Now’s not the time to dig into this.
What pisses me off the most isn’t even seeing Marcel.
It’s knowing how satisfied he must be, gloating, pleased with himself. He warned me on the phone and then did exactly what he said he would. This is punishment for siding with the enemy.
And Edgar being here just makes it worse, a fucking weasel. My anger spikes.
"Well, look at this, Gabs. Been a while. What, eight months?"
I stay silent, staring at him, but I’m boiling inside, and I know I’m about to snap.
"You already know Edgar. But let me introduce my contact from NFH," he makes a gesture toward the man in the mask, "he goes by Gunman. Thanks to him, we’re all here. His team’s outside so they don’t disturb our session."
Gunman lifts his hand in a mocking, theatrical salute.
"I thought NFH killed omegas of reproductive age, like you. They made an exception? Or did you fuck your way through all of them?"
I bite out the words through clenched teeth.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Blue raising his eyebrows slightly.
Edgar reacts first. He closes the distance in three steps. I know what’s coming. I run through a few scenarios and shift just enough so the hit lands with minimal effect. When it comes, I’m ready. His hand impacts my forehead because I turn my head at the last second. Doesn’t do much.
Edgar curses and goes for another one, but Marcel raises a hand.
"Enough."
He steps closer and leans in slightly.
"Suuuure. I slept with all of them. Yeah. And you know what? They all had bigger dicks than you."
"Highly doubt that. They’d need a wheelbarrow to carry it."
Edgar bursts out laughing. He thinks it’s funny? I quickly fix that by saying:
"And from what I saw when I caught you with this dumbass, you seem to prefer the tiny ones anyway."
Edgar’s face hardens immediately, but Marcel doesn’t react.
"Geez, you’re so childish. The whole dick comparison thing, such a low-hanging alpha trait—"
"You started it!"
Marcel shakes his head in feigned amusement and disapproval.
"Eh, such a silly boy. You just can’t get over the fact that you were never good enough for me, Gabs."
"Well, I’d say I dodged a bullet. You went full psycho, teaming up with people who’ll kill your fertile omega ass anyway. They hate breeders. You’ll be disposable in no time."
Marcel laughs loudly.
"I outgrew being disposable, idiot. You didn’t. That’s why you’re still here, just on a different leash."
I blink and look at Blue again.
"Yeah? Let’s see how long that lasts. They kill omegas, alphas, kids. If you think they’ll let you live, you’re kidding yourself."
"NFH doesn’t care what I am. They care what I can do. And I’m not a breeding risk anymore." He grins. "I handled that." And he makes a gesture with his hands, as if tying something up.
Then he steps closer. I catch his scent, one I used to know so well, one I used to secretly breathe in. Now it makes me nauseous.
He reaches for my head, but I pull away, so his hand lands on my shoulder instead. He taps it lightly.
"Sulking? Oh, my little boy, Gabby. Come on, cheer up, little puffed-up frog." He touches my cheek with his finger, but I jerk my head away sharply. "Always so eager, anxious, and… sheepish. And those countless insecurities of yours! If low self-esteem were a competition, you’d have the gold."
What am I supposed to say?
I don’t feel like playing his game.
"So smart, and still so stupid," I mutter gloomily. "You’ll lose anyway. Psychos always do."
"Okay, enough talking," Gunman cuts in, turning toward the table. "We need to connect to the base."