Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
Tony
“FUCK,” GAGE SAID under his breath. He popped his seatbelt free, before reaching under his jacket and pulling out a gun. My heart skipped and pounded—I still wasn’t used to members of this pack waving firearms around.
This wasn’t the little snub-nosed conceal-carry pistol that I’d seen him use at the pack house, either. It was a very serious looking semi-automatic, carried in a very serious looking shoulder holster. Against all good sense, I grabbed his bulging bicep, my fingers digging in.
“What the hell are you planning to do?” I demanded. “There are three vehicles parked out there, and no way of knowing how many people came here in each one!”
“I’m going in for recon,” Gage said, not reacting to my hand on his arm as he checked the magazine on the gun and clicked it back into place. “Stay here. Keep the engine running, and if anyone comes outside that isn’t me, burn rubber.”
“What?” I yelped. “No! Gage... no. That’s a fucking moronic plan, and it’s not fucking happening.
” Inside the battleground of my own damned head, good sense warred with whatever the opposite of good sense was.
“Look... you just want to have a sneak around and try to see what’s going on in there?
Because I’ve sneaked into a lot more places than you have, I’m willing to bet. I’ll go.”
My brain made unintelligible gibbering noises at me, because seriously? I gritted my teeth and tried to ignore the burning embers of my dearly departed sense of self-preservation.
Gage ran a beady eye over me. “The fuck you will. You’re not even armed, and as scared as you are of guns, I’m guessing you’ve never shot one in your life.”
“I’m armed,” I said, hearing the defensiveness creep into my voice. I dug into the pocket of my hoodie and pulled out my trusty pepper spray.
Gage grunted. “Right.” He hesitated for a long, fraught moment. “Fine, we’ll both go.”
He didn’t sound happy about it, which was fair. I was the one kicking up a fuss, and I wasn’t happy about it, either.
“Okay,” my mouth said, not waiting for approval from whatever was passing for my IQ these days.
“Okay,” Gage echoed, and I took a moment to wonder why we were doing this when we both knew how stupid it was.
“Wait, why are we doing this again?” I asked. “We could just call the police instead. Let them sort it out?”
A low rumble vibrated up from Gage’s barrel chest, making me shiver.
“Because my mate is in there, and I’m not a hundred percent sure whose side she’s on,” he growled.
“Your phone is in there,” I corrected. “That’s all we know for sure.”
Gage turned off the engine and cracked open the driver’s side door. “Come or don’t,” he said, all traces of the affable alpha marshmallow gone without a trace.
I swallowed whatever words had been gathering in my throat and got out of the Yukon, clutching my pepper spray in one sweaty hand.
There was no question of hiding as we approached.
The chain link gates weren’t locked, but the rusty hinges shrieked like a banshee as Gage pushed one open far enough for us to slip through.
It was broad daylight, and while the area around the derelict grain warehouse was overgrown, it wasn’t a forest. I kept as low to the ground as I could, moving through the tall grasses and weeds—hoping that no one inside happened to be looking through one of the missing windows facing in our direction.
Gage also crouched low, although the fact that he had a good eight inches of height on me certainly wasn’t helping him in the ‘staying out of sight’ department.
But there was no sign of any guards posted outside, and no movement from inside as we crossed the final distance.
A moment later, we fetched up in front of a massive pair of mildewed wooden sliding doors, like the kind you saw on old barns.
I pulled out my phone to double check that Gage’s signal was definitely coming from this building rather than one of the huge, cylindrical silos flanking it—then gave him a nod of confirmation.
He nodded back, grabbing a rusted handle in one meaty fist and heaving.
The door slid to the side with an awful groaning noise, inch by painful inch.
The instant it was open wide enough to admit a person, a slight form bolted through the gap, shoving past me and sending me staggering. Adrenaline surged through me, even as Gage shouted, “Oy!” and lifted his gun.
“Don’t!” I gasped, whirling just in time to see a child dart into the tall grass and disappear from view.
Gage cursed and pointed the gun’s muzzle safely skyward.
“Was that an—” I began.
“Omega kid?” Gage finished. “Yeah. Pretty sure it was.”
Before I could draw breath to say anything else, a full-throated female scream echoed from somewhere inside the abandoned warehouse... muffled by distance and thick walls, but still utterly unmistakable.
“Shit! Come on!” Gage snapped.
In the next instant he was through the gap in the door, pounding toward the source of the noise.
I plunged after him, the smell of dust and decay hitting me like a wall as my eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden dimness.
It was all I could do not to descend into a coughing fit as I followed the darker shadow ahead of me, my pepper spray still clutched in one hand and my phone in the other.
We crossed an echoing, empty space, dotted here and there with the hulking skeletons of old machinery.
Shafts of light from gaps in the walls cut through the floating dust, turning it brilliant gold while doing little to illuminate the rest of the warehouse floor.
My foot skidded on something soft—a moldering pile of old rags.
When I righted myself, it was to find Gage disappearing into a hallway deeper in the sprawling old structure.
I ignored my racing heart and followed, wishing I had enough battery left on my phone to risk turning on the flashlight.
If the goal had been stealth, we’d failed like the St. Louis Cardinals in the 2013 World Series.
The fact that there still hadn’t been any response from whoever had arrived in those fancy SUVs outside was freaking me out more than a little bit.
In fact, it was freaking me out so much that I nearly ran headfirst into Gage, who’d rounded a corner in the hallway and promptly come to a screeching halt.
I made a last-second course correction and caught myself against the concrete wall instead, staring open-mouthed at the scene beyond.
This section of the corridor was illuminated in flickering fluorescent light, sharp and institutional.
It was lined on one side with what could only be described as prison cells—barred fronts with heavy, locked doors.
Or rather, most of the doors were locked. One stood open, and two crumpled shapes lay motionless on the floor nearby. My jaw clicked shut. I swallowed heavily, fighting lightheadedness.
“Stay back.” Gage stepped cautiously toward the dark lumps on the floor, leading with his gun. He nudged first one, then the other with the toe of his shoe. There was no response.
I wasn’t sure what made me glance down and check my phone screen. The map was still pulled up, but now we were right on top of the little red marker pin representing Gage’s phone.
“Check their pockets,” I said hoarsely. “Your phone’s around here somewhere.”
Gage crouched down, transferring the gun to his left hand as he checked for pulses. “They’re both dead. Broken neck and... uh... crushed trachea, I think.” He patted them down and rummaged around in their clothing, eventually coming up with a phone.
“Is that it?” I asked, in order to avoid thinking about everything else that was going on here.
Gage looked down at it, frowning as he scrolled and swiped. “Yeah. There’s an Uber confirmation, two calls from your number, and one outbound call to a number I don’t recognize.” He pocketed the phone and looked through the open cell door. “Empty. Shit, there’s a camera.”
I flinched hard as he raised the gun and fired a single shot. Glass crunched, somewhere out of view. “Gage!”
“Don’t need a bunch of CCTV footage of us being here,” he said.
Somewhere deeper in the building, a low, wailing cry tailed into a moan, and Gage was instantly on his feet again.
“That’s her!” he said, and charged toward the sound.
Having no desire to be left alone with a couple of dead bodies, I followed him.
The hallway branched, leading to more cells and a few rooms that had normal, solid doors.
I shuddered as I ran past what looked like a medical gurney, its shiny metal at odds with the dingy surroundings as it sat slewed and abandoned in the corridor.
Gage turned again, alpha ears following the low sounds of female torment.
It was getting closer, even as the signs of recent occupation faded.
This part of the building was lit only by light coming through the gaps in the ceiling above, and heavy dust coated everything like a blanket.
I looked down, seeing Gage’s heavy footprints. .. along with a second set.
Perversely, now my stomach chose to sink with some formless, unnamed dread. I slowed, even as Gage slid to a stop in front of an open door. A low, menacing growl emanated from the room beyond.
I’d heard that growl before, for all that it had been playful rather than threatening. Heart in throat, I walked forward in a daze—both desperate to see what lay inside, and desperate not to see it.
I came to a halt next to Gage, who for once seemed to have been struck speechless.
In the far corner of the room, curled together on a pile of ripped and bloody clothing, Jez and Heath lay entwined, naked and smeared from head to toe in rusty streaks of drying gore.
As I stared at them, feeling a dark hole open up where my heart was supposed to be, Heath’s ominous growl of warning modulated into a smug, satisfied purr.