Chapter 13
brYLEE
Twenty thousand four hundred eighty-two steps.
I’m not certain when I started counting to track the time, but my feet are dragging. This gray dress I’m in is coated in sweat, and the gun in my hand feels weighted with lead.
I guess it kinda is.
A dry chuckle erupts from my lips, and I wish, for the millionth time, that I’d stolen a soldier’s phone and some water.
Of course, who knows if they had phones on them. They might have been trying to keep the place untraceable. I hadn’t seen vehicles outside when I emerged near dawn, so the van they’d brought me in must have dropped me off and retreated.
I would definitely have turned around to get car keys if there had been any.
A sigh works its way up my chest as I approach another meadow.
This one is more well-kept than some of the others I’ve stomped through.
Thank goodness. Dead, thigh-high grass can feel like razor blades when you’re wearing a skirt.
This meadow was mowed for the fall. Maybe harvested.
Perhaps I’m on a farm. It’s hard to tell.
I’ve seen nothing but nature since my escape.
I start across the expanse, the mid-morning sun bright in my eyes. Bare trees stretch toward the sky like they are doing yoga. A few birds fly over, heading south. It would be utterly peaceful if I weren’t so hungry.
My thoughts fill with cream puffs and Caran’s lasagna until a rude noise interrupts my mental feast.
Whirring.
The strange mechanical noise, low and distant, but growing closer, prompts my feet to beat a hasty path toward the trees as my heart rate propels me into panic.
What is that? Who is it?
Neck whipping side to side, I search the tree line around me for any signs of what’s coming.
My first assumption is that it’s a drone, which drains all the heat from my cheeks. Compresses my chest until it feels like one of those pennies sent through a roller and squashed into elongated nothingness.
There’s no running from a drone.
The sound grows louder and lower, and I run, dodging through the naked trees, breath puffing, knowing it’s hopeless but still spurred by instinct.
I want to survive.
For the first time in years, I want a future.
There was a lengthy stretch where the betrayal I suffered seemed to define me and overshadowed everything else. A time dipped in shadowy misery and full of lamenting sobs. Where tomorrow only seemed like it would draw out the torment.
But not now.
Now reasons to live abound.
I need to hear Kylian’s bright laugh.
Need to see that glint in Luka’s eyes when he challenges me.
I need to wrap my arms around Ridge’s waist and ride behind him on his motorcycle, taking in a curving mountain road and the steady beat of his heart under my hands.
Need to see Colter’s face without his mask.
I desperately need to teach them all how to actually cook turkey.
A sound that’s half laugh, half sob erupts and shakes my entire torso. It sends me stumbling, and I don’t recover. I fall forward, and my gun accidentally discharges, shooting off into a nearby tree as my knees hit the ground and a rock gouges a hole in my skin.
FUCK.
I just gave away my location.
The sweat on my back instantly grows ice cold as the buzzing sound grows louder.
On my hands and knees, I lean up to spot the four tiny whizzing blades of the drone, which hovers just above the treetops, directly overhead. It’s like a black blot in the sky, the sun not even glinting off the paint—as though light can’t touch that evil.
Something on the lower half of the drone swivels. A camera? A gun?
Inhaling, I raise my weapon, taking careful aim, and pull the trigger.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Nooooo!
I'm out of bullets.
Heated wrath and determination deflate into a resigned defiance that stiffens my posture.
Of course I outwitted an entire warehouse only to end up here, in the middle of nowhere, shot down by a machine. Fate loves irony.
And what’s more ironic than this?
Brittlely, I glare at the drone because I’m not going to hide from death. If the bastard operating his little joystick from the safety of a control room blasts apart my face, I want him to see it. Be haunted forever by it. I want that alpha soldier to know he killed an omega in cold blood.
There’s a crackling sound that makes my eyebrows jump.
Then a mechanical, tinny voice—but a familiar one—speaks, and my heart nearly ruptures.
“Brylee. It’s Luka. Stay right there. We’re coming to get you.”
Oh. My. God.
My knees give out, and I end up splayed in the dirt, turning it to mud with my tears.
“Brylee!” Kylian’s voice stabs right through my chest, fear ringing clearly in his tone.
Blinking my swollen eyes, my throat parched beyond belief, soreness eclipsing all conscious thought now that my adrenaline has worn off, I shove myself up from the ground and glance blearily through the tree branches.
Is that a helicopter in the field I just ran through?
How did I not notice it?
I realize, belatedly, that I must have passed out while waiting for them. Of course, after a bit of torture, escape, and near death, I’m not surprised to find exhaustion won out.
There are stomping footsteps, and then Kylian appears. He’s dressed in camouflage fatigues that blend in with his surroundings, except for the massive gun dangling from a harness on his shoulder, though that seems nearly forgotten as he gets closer.
His deep, warm eyes find me, and his handsome face blurs a second before strong arms encircle my back.
A blubbering whimper erupts from my lips as I lean forward, shove my nose against the base of his neck, and greedily inhale Kylian’s scent.
The soft musk is like a tonic. An instant soothing force, like honey on my sore, raspy soul.
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” he says in a velvety croon.
My arms wrap around his neck and my fingers curl, digging into his skin, and I collapse into his strength. His broad chest and steady hold console me in a way I’ve never fathomed as I glide my cheek against him.
There’s something magical about it, like two sparks merging into a greater flame.
Perhaps it’s a temporary delusion. Maybe it’s a stress-induced effect. Near-death experiences and all that.
But I don’t think so.
Some tiny part of me thinks that this shift I feel is something else entirely.
Carefully, with more delicacy than I ever knew the playful alpha was capable of, he scoops me into a bridal hold.
He pauses, and I can feel his racing heartbeat as he gently squeezes me close. Then his nose comes to my hair, and I can hear him breathe.
His arms start to tremble as he grips me. “I can smell your fear. And it makes me want to do very bad things.”
I nuzzle farther into him. “Would it help if I tell you that I’ve already done them?”
A pleased chuckle rumbles through his chest. “I can’t wait to hear about that, my sexy obsession. But let’s get you home first. The others are eager to see you.”
I start to ask why they didn’t come with him, but I stop myself, though I’m not exactly sure why. A lingering bit of insecurity, perhaps?
Who knows what happened after the Noths took me from school. Kylian has clearly been searching for me. Maybe the others were following different leads.
There’s going to be a logical explanation.
My heart just isn’t quite ready if there’s not one.
All the ferocity I had earlier has melted into a puddle, and I just don’t have the capacity for more right now.
Kylian starts walking toward the chopper, which still has its blades spinning.
As we get closer, he asks, “Think you can walk?”
I nod, not bothering to talk because the thump-thump-thump of the blades is overpowering, whipping my hair across my face.
He lets me down, and we duck, running toward the door, which is open, awaiting us.
When I clamber inside, I fall back into my seat, relief making me sag.
But Luka’s voice startles a zing through my veins, making my eyes pop right back open.
My debonair alpha swings around from his spot in the pilot’s seat. He’s wearing one of the headsets that seems to be standard operating procedure in the movies as he grins at me.
Even though his hair and beard are as perfectly styled as usual, I can see dark shadows under his eyes, and I know he hasn’t slept since I was taken. But he’s never looked better.
My breath hitches, and I throw myself toward him, completely oblivious of the seats, equipment, or that coiled cord descending from his headset, which gets snagged on my wild elbows and stretches tight.
Luka doesn’t seem to notice. Or if he does, he doesn’t seem to care. He pulls me in close enough that our heartbeats pound together, inhaling my scent just as I breathe in the fresh, clean musk of him…though I catch a whiff of something metallic.
It almost smells like blood, though his T-shirt and pants are freshly pressed.
I must be mistaken or paranoid. I’m probably smelling some oil or antifreeze or whatever they use to service this helicopter.
Ignoring my nose, I just revel in the feel of him for a second, in the fact he came for me. So quickly too. When I was taken the first time…
I cut off those thoughts because I can’t deal with them right now. Suffice it to say, Alpha Team X operates on an elite level.
These men… They did in hours what the people who brought me into this world did in weeks.
My mates found me.
My throat narrows, and I swallow a harsh sob that seems to swell up from the deepest, most defenseless part of myself. Instead of devolving into tears, that ache pulses in my chest. Hushed agony. Potent vulnerability. And blinding gratitude.
Somehow, the fact that it’s not just Kylian alone rescuing me is significant. They’re coordinating. My alphas are working as a team. It makes me wonder if Ridge and Colter are clearing a safe house or something for my return.
Reluctantly, I release Luka with a sigh and return to my seat.
Kylian immediately leans over me and straps me in, his expression so focused that you’d think he was disarming a bomb.
Once he's finished with me, he slides the door shut and straps himself in. Then he slaps the back of Luka’s seat, and we start to rise as he peers outside, keeping a wary eye on the landscape, as if he expects Noths to appear at any moment.
After we’ve started moving, I realize there’s a cooler next to his feet.
“Water?” I question, though I do think it’s quite possible that Kylian brings an ice chest along on missions so that he can freeze some “keepsakes.”
Yes, I’m aware that I’m falling for a man who’s a smidge-bit psycho.
Luckily, he does have some water bottles stashed inside, and he cracks one open and hands it to me.
I drink greedily, gulping down the water until two thirds of the bottle is empty.
With a contented sigh, I finally find I’m able to ask, “So, where are Colter and Ridge?”
Kylian’s expression stiffens.
My throat crimps tight, and the air in my lungs freezes over.
“What?” I repeat, leaning forward, grabbing his knee. My thoughts race so quickly that they’re streaks of light, not even able to form into shapes, just pure, energized panic. “Where are they?”
Kylian swallows hard and casts his eyes down. “The hospital.”
My water bottle drops to my feet and erupts in a wild gush.
It feels like my heart does the exact same thing.