Chapter 41 Hayden
forty-one
Hayden
This is not how I expected tonight to go.
With the way Jo is looking at me, I’m half expecting her to pull out a t-shirt that says “Alpha’s First Murder”.
I’ve never seen myself as a guy who needs to be here. Sure, the noise in my head only stops when I lay eyes on the chaotically mesmerizing dance of flames, and I’ve accidentally burned down a building or two, but that doesn’t mean I’m certifiable, right?
Jo makes me question all that.
Because the way she just destroyed the piece of shit that tried to rape her? The way she was a complete badass the entire time, never once losing control of the situation? How she looked as she sliced the fucker’s neck open?
That has me hard as a rock. So maybe I really do belong here.
Because on top of that? The murder I just witnessed? Not bothered. Not even a little bit. It’s almost like fate knew what it was doing when it put Jo with all of us.
Speaking of fate, getting out of the abandoned wing undetected was suspiciously easy. Sam had taken us to a door that led out behind one of the buildings, then to a hole in the electric fence. It was tricky getting through it while carrying a dead body between us, but we managed it.
“Focus, Hayden,” Sam barks at me, and I jolt out of my thoughts.
West, Kole, and Jo have gone ahead to wait at the edge of the forest for a flashlight, and Sam and I are rifling through a secret compartment in the trunk of his car, which has tanks of gasoline, matches, knives, a few shovels, and too many guns to count.
The parking lot is illuminated by a few streetlights, and when I had pointed out the cameras on every corner, Sam waved me off and told me, “Don’t worry about it.”
“Who do you work for again?” I ask, my throat going dry when I spot a grenade launcher.
“I used to be special ops. Now I work for myself,” he grunts, grabbing a canister of gasoline and a shovel. “Grab some of those matches.”
“Isn’t it…” I swallow nervously, “dangerous? Having all this stuff in your car?”
He shrugs, smirking at me. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little friendly fire?”
I scoff. “Nothing about this seems very friendly.”
“Relax.” He rolls his eyes. “The compartment is made with reinforced steel that would contain any kind of explosion. Well…mostly contain.” He lowers the false bottom of the trunk back in place, and then covers it with the floor mat so it’s undistinguishable to someone who isn’t looking for it.
Hell, I am looking for it, and I can hardly make anything out.
When West mentioned that he and Sam were working to take down Thornfield, I didn’t imagine anything of this magnitude.
I had thought like…feeding information to the FBI. Not an ex-special ops mercenary with a shit-ton of cool toys.
“Carry this.” He pushes the shovels in my hands and plucks the flashlight out of his back pocket.
“Yes, sir,” I mutter, rolling my eyes at him as we continue through the parking lot. I scan the other cars in the lot, looking for Banesworth’s. It’s not helpful, considering I have no idea what car he drives, but maybe one will jump out and scream, “Hey, I belong to a fuckwit!”
I frown when no such thing happens. “We need to move his car if we’re going to convince them that he tucked tail and ran.” When we get back, West is going to use the asswipe’s phone to email his resignation, and hopefully they won’t ask too many questions.
Sam only nods. “I’m already on it. I got a guy who runs a chop shop ten miles away. He’ll come collect the car while we’re taking care of the body.”
The spot we’re heading to is at the very back of the asylum property, and it's a bit of a trek from the parking lot, so I take the opportunity to have a heart-to-heart with the guy.
“So…you guys are in?” I ask, rolling my neck.
“In…what?” Sam sounds a bit disgruntled, but he may just be tired. I mean, it is two in the morning.
“Jo’s pack.” I try really hard to not look at the guy like he’s stupid, but come on.
“Part of me…wants to say this is all a delusion. But…if her brother really is the head of the Irish Mafia, he’ll have the connections needed to get you guys set up with new identities after this shit goes down. We might have a shot at an honest-to-gods pack life.”
“I think West is in,” I say with a grin, remembering the way he kissed her back when we were torturing Fuckwit.
Packing up is weird. If anyone else besides the three men in this situation with me were to put their hands on her like that, heads would have rolled.
But seeing my Fireball with our good Doctor?
It felt…right.
“We both are.” Sam’s voice is decisive. “There’s no going back. I want her, he wants her…if she’ll have us, we’re in. I don’t know if the drugs they’ve been giving her will affect her ability to bond at all…but I want in, regardless.”
Oh, shit. We never told them that Jo and I are bonded. Or that we’re true scent matches.
Before I can decide if I want to try to explain the events that resulted in that, we’re coming up to Kole, West, Jo, and a rolled-up tarp. Sam’s flashlight lights up Jo’s smile when she sees us, and Sam doesn’t slow, not stopping until he’s right in front of her.
She looks up at him with wide, green eyes, her red hair wild in the breeze.
“Just in case I didn’t make it clear earlier…
” He swallows, his throat bobbing with the motion.
He puts the can of gasoline on the ground beside him, then wraps his arms around her waist. Her hands fly up to his face as he takes her mouth, and the kiss they share is…
it’s…it’s like all the pieces are falling into place.
They pull apart with a gasp, and Sam starts talking. “I’m too old for you. I have too much baggage, and this will probably all go to shit. But I want to try, if you’ll have me.”
She grins up at him, that coy, flirty smile that always gives me a semi. “My, my. You have such a way with words, Sammy-boy. Just how old are you?”
He grimaces. “Thirty-three.”
“That’s only ten years, silly.” She swats his arm before turning to the rest of us. “Okay, now who wants to help me dispose of a body?”
I’m sure the smile on my face is demented as I douse the dead body with gasoline. Finally. Fucking finally, after two years, I’ll get to set my sights on the flames again. Real, full flames. Not the little tiny shit I managed with an old battery and some steel wool.
We’re about two miles into the forest, and Kole and Sam are a few feet away from me, digging a grave.
More than six feet deep, because apparently that’s murder-cover-up one-oh-one.
Jo cackles as she feels my elation through the bond.
“Fuck, no wonder you like settin’ fires so much.
” She giggles, coming up behind me and wrapping her arms around my waist. “If this is what it feels like every time.”
“You wanna light the match?” I ask once the body is appropriately soaked.
“Nah, you do it, Darlin’. You’ve been waitin’ for this.”
West watches me with trepidation. “I’m not sure we should be encouraging—”
“Oh, take the stick outta your ass, Doctor.” Jo chides. “We’ve already committed murder tonight, I think it’s a little too late to start carin’ about our manias.”
“It’s time.” Kole comes over, wiping the dirt off his hands and onto his jumpsuit.
"We have already pulled Banesworth's teeth and smashed them with a rock so they cannot identify him with dental records…if his body is ever found.” The sentence is very movie-villain in his Russian accent, and I am totally here for it.
Sam and Kole drag the tarp over to the grave, and let the body fall with a thump.
Shooting Jo a wink, I set the gas canister down and take the matches out of my pocket. One lights easily, and then I’m taking a few steps back, before tossing it into the grave.
It goes up in motherfucking flames.
“Nobody will be able to recognize him, even if they do find the body,” West says darkly. The tone would normally send a shiver through me, but the sight of this piece of shit going up flames has my serotonin levels skyrocketing.
At least, I’m pretty sure it’s serotonin. That’s the good one, right?
I’m just glad Jo had the foresight to grab her alpha-gel so we could all use some to block the scent of the charring flesh.
I would have thought that I’d feel some semblance of guilt over being a part of a torture and murder session, but…I don’t. Banesworth had it coming, and really, we just cleaned up the world a little bit.
“Wait.” West shakes his head like he’s coming out of a daze. “Jo, did you say that you can feel Hayden?”
“Oh, shoot.” She grimaces, before sighing and lifting her sports bra to reveal the underside of her boob where my bite sits, illuminated by the fire. I definitely have a boner now. “Yep. Right there. It completely cancelled out whatever designation-nullifyin’ drug they gave me, too.”
“Fuck,” Sam mutters running a hand over his jaw. “You can’t let anyone know about this, Trouble.”
She grins at me, lowering her bra back down. “Aren’t you gonna show them yours, Darlin’?”
Smirking, I unbutton the top buttons of my jumpsuit until I can pull it to the side far enough to show my own bite mark. Nobody but Kole’s seen it so far, and my alpha has a swelling of pride when Sam and West look at it with envy.
“Can an omega bite a beta?” Jo asks thoughtfully, and West chuckles.
“If you have an alpha bite you first, it will activate your venom and then you can bite me, Siren.”
“Peachy-keen.” She smiles as she runs her tongue over teeth.
“Any more secrets you guys feel like sharing with us?” Sam asks in a frustrated voice.
“My dad might be a problem once we get out of here,” I supply, shrugging. “He wants me to marry some business-buddy’s daughter, but I won’t do it.”
“Having the protection of the Irish Mafia will quell any intent my father has to come after me,” Kole adds, crossing his arms as our bodies are bathed in the light of the fire.
“I don’t know where Turnip is, and I’m startin’ to get worried,” Jo says quietly, and when we all just look at her with confusion, her cheeks flush. “Okay, not those kinds of secrets. Got it.”
“Do not worry, Lisichka, your little friend will return when she is ready. She survived on her own long before she met you.” Kole wraps a comforting arm around her.
“Who the fuck is Turnip?” Sam asks, sounding confused as hell.
“My pet rat who found me when I first got here. She knows how to sniff out bugs and I feed her food from my meals. She’s a real sweetheart. She had a pink collar and everythin’.”
Sam and West don’t know what to say to that, and I shake my head, mouthing the word, “Later,” at them.
We all watch the flames for a moment longer, even the non-pyromaniacs being drawn in by the sight.
“Tomorrow,” Sam breaks the silence, “we’ll meet up and make a plan. We have the information we need to get Mabel the fuck out of here, get a sample of the drugs they’re using, and burn this place to the ground.”
“Tomorrow.” We all agree, and when the last of the flames go out, Sam and Kole start shovelling the dirt back in the grave, and before long it’s like we were never there at all.