Chapter 11 Sam
eleven
Sam
Two Hours Earlier
“Leslie, we need to initiate lockdown level five.” My tone is authoritative and leaves no room for argument. The communications to the outside world have already been cut courtesy of my tech scrambling software, and nobody is the wiser.
Leslie, Brooks, and Whitmore are the only ones with the proper security codes to enact a lockdown, and of the three, Leslie is the sole person who might be on our side.
She looks up from the stack of papers on her desk, confused. “What? Why—”
“We need to initiate lockdown, level five,” I repeat, meeting her confused expression.
West squeezes into the room next to me. “Please put out the announcement that all patients need to return to their rooms, and once the orderlies have double-checked that everyone is accounted for, engage the lockdown. Nobody in or out. Not until West and I clear the threat.”
Her wide eyes travel between the two of us. “...What threat, Sam? West, why would you even be involved—” She cuts herself off, shaking her head. “What aren’t you telling me? Where is Doctor Brooks?”
West’s jaw goes stiff. “Doctor Brooks is…with a patient.”
Leslie’s eyes flit between us before understanding flashes across her features. “This…this is about Jo, isn’t it? Listen, I think the punishment was harsh too, but she shouldn’t have drugged that alpha—”
“She didn’t drug him, she beat him all on her own,” I snap, before shaking my head.
“That’s not important. This is only partly because of Jo anyway.
” Then, I take a chance because I’ve gotten to know Leslie a little bit since I started working here, and I genuinely think she has no idea what really goes on behind these walls.
“But also for the omegas being used as test subjects against their wills, hidden in a secret underground lab.”
“I—What? What are you talking about?” She shakes her head. “You’re speaking nonsense. There’s no secret underground lab—”
“Leslie,” West interrupts, taking a step forward.
“We don’t have time to convince you. But…
I called the facilities that Beatrice Nunez and Valerie Holt were supposedly transferred to.
They never arrived. According to them, no transfer was ever put in.
I can’t sit and explain how we know about a lab without wasting the precious time we have left, but… you know me, Les. Trust me.”
Leslie pales, then closes her eyes briefly, exhaling out her nose. She opens her eyes, her expression hard. “If you’re wrong about this…”
“Then you can say we held you at gunpoint and forced you to enact the lockdown.” West grimaces.
“I wouldn’t go that far.” She shakes her head, then lets out a heavy breath.
“Okay. Hold on.” She picks up the receiver of her desk phone and pushes the intercom button.
“Attention, Patients and Staff. We are entering a lockdown…” she glances over at us and swallows roughly, “level five. Orderlies please escort patients back to their rooms, and wait in the dormitory halls. All other staff, please report to the safety of your apartments. Patients, the sooner we get settled the sooner we can resolve the threat. Thank you.” She hangs the phone up and slumps her shoulders. “I better not regret that.”
“You won’t,” West promises, then rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “And Les? I’d…follow lockdown protocol as well.”
Leslie frowns, pulling a drawer out of her desk and reaching under it. “Fuck that,” she says, pulling a handgun out and loading a magazine. “I was in the FBI, boys, in case you forgot. I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”
I raise a brow. It seems slightly irresponsible to have a gun just velcroed under the drawer of a desk that any random patient could open, but I can’t really say much, given the arsenal in the trunk of my car.
Nodding to her, we leave Leslie in her office and head to the kitchen, ignoring the way that orderlies are herding the patients pack to their dorms. West breaks off to go “take over surveillance”, because we need “all hands on deck” for the lockdown.
Meaning: he’s going to kick the orderly out of the control room, then turn everything off and break the lock on the door.
“Pierce, don’t make me tranq you,” I hear Tate growl at Hayden in the courtyard, and I calm my features, approaching my pack brother and the asshole who has him cornered.
“I got him, Tate.” I turn my gaze to Hayden, who has a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Yeah, good luck with that.” Tate snorts, shaking his head. “Hey, do you know what the deal is with this lockdown?”
“No idea, man,” I lie through my teeth, shrugging, before gripping Hayden’s shoulder a little too tight. “Wipe that smirk off your face.” My muttered words reach the pyro’s ears, and he has the good sense to force his face into a scowl.
“Fuck you, old man.” Damn. He’s really trying to sell the whole “hating me” thing.
“Fuck yourself, pyro,” I bite back, giving his shoulder a little shove.
Tate chuckles, shaking his head. “Like I said, good luck.” Then he walks towards the dorms, barking orders at other patients.
“Come on,” I hiss at Hayden, throwing an arm around his neck and guiding him around the back of the cafeteria. As soon as we’re out of view, he shrugs out from my arm.
“Really? Old man?” I scoff, shaking my head as we walk parallel to the chainlink fence.
“Really? Pyro?” Hayden parrots back at me, rolling his eyes.
“You are a pyro.”
“And you are an old man. Honestly, I don’t know what Fireball sees in your wrinkly old ass—hey!”
He leaps away from me as I try to smack him upside the head, covering his hair with his hands as he races me around the admin building, and maneuvers through the break in the fence. West should have shut all the cameras off by now.
“You need to take this seriously, Sam,” Hayden chastises me, clicking his tongue. “No time for horseplay in a situation like this.”
Fucking hell.
“Just shut up and let’s go.” We make our way to my car, going around the building where the fights are held, and coming up to the staff parking lot.
Just like only a few days ago, we pick through the arsenal in the back of my car.
My handguns are quickly strapped to my sides, my M4 slung over my shoulder.
I look at Hayden as I shove a bullet-proof vest over his jumpsuit.
“I don’t have time to teach you how to use a gun. ”
He shakes his head, letting me strap him in tight. “Don’t need one. Helaena gave me a little present before she gave that other nurse food poisoning.”
Right. I didn’t feel great, devising a way for Helaena to get eyes on Jo once it was confirmed she had been moved to the lab, but she was insistent.
Spying two tactical knives strapped to the lid of my secret compartment, I grab those and strap them to my thigh.
Suddenly, footsteps crunch nearby, and I whip my head up, only to relax when I see it’s Fuzzy and West.
“Camera’s down?” I ask, tossing West an unloaded handgun and a few mags. He catches them, and loads one mag before chambering a round and holding it at his side. He shoves the rest in his pocket and pats them lovingly.
“We’d be in deep shit if they weren’t.” He snorts at me, and I roll my eyes.
Fuzzy eyes the gun in West’s hand warily. “You ever used one of those before, Doc?”
He nods. “Sam’s dad taught us both how to shoot when we were seventeen. I’ve kept up on my training.”
I nod in confirmation. He’s no expert marksman, but I trust him to have our backs.
“Any idea about Declan?” Hayden takes his lighter out, flipping it anxiously.
“He said five. He’s never late.” Unfortunately, my signal scrambling software also jams all of our communications, so we can’t get a real time update.
I won’t feel totally at ease with this mission until I have a bullet-proof vest on.
Right now the only one I have goes to Hayden, seeing as he’s the one Jo is connected to.
More footsteps sound, and initially I relax, thinking it’s Declan, but then my blood runs cold at the sound of Whitmore’s voice. “Well, well. What do we have here?”