Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-eight
TOM
Tom had reached the deepest part of the stacks, where nothing but rats had ventured for years. The emergency lights struggled through thick layers of dust, but at least they were on, casting the rooms into pools of light and shadow. Even enhanced eyesight wouldn’t be able to see in pitch darkness.
If they were non-shifters, he’d be able to stay one step ahead of them.
But as it was, they’d be able to scent him.
He looked at a pile of fresh rat droppings for a moment then, with a resigned sigh, crouched and turned up his shirt sleeves.
He retched at the reek—sour and acrid, like ammonia but somehow worse—as he smeared the droppings over his arms to cover his scent.
Moving on, he stayed in the shadows and slunk between the vast rooms, where old bookshelves stood in immense rows, reaching almost as high as the ceilings.
And then he heard it—a shoe scuffing against the linoleum. It had come from the other side of the room he was in.
Everything was silent again, as if whoever it had been was poised, listening, scenting the air and trying to determine if someone else was there.
The giant bookcases cut his line of sight to the doorway, so he ghosted between them, using them as cover. When he reached the last one and cautiously looked around, he couldn’t see anyone, but he could hear faint breathing from outside the room.
He worked his way along the wall, relying on his hearing to pinpoint his enemy’s position. At the last moment, he surged forward, whipping around the doorjamb to pin him against the wall.
He jammed his forearm across the man’s throat, cutting off his air, and snarled, low and furious, straight into his face.
brYCE
Bryce rarely questioned his decision-making capabilities. He kept a cool head no matter what was happening around him, and when others were inclined to rush in, he had no problem taking that step back and examining all the angles before deciding what to do.
Not today. Today found him sneaking around the dark basement of some old building playing a deadly game of hide and seek with highly trained killers without a single plan in mind. But Tom was down here as well and he had to find him. Had to, before he was hurt or worse.
He crept through a doorway into a cavernous room, empty bookshelves marching away into the distance as far as he could see, and froze as all the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
He could hear nothing, smell nothing except must and old dirt, with a sharp, acrid undertone he couldn’t place. But he knew someone was there.
Heart thumping wildly, he retreated, pressing himself back against the wall outside the door as he waited to find out if he’d been discovered. He almost hoped he had been. If his presence distracted one of Tom’s pursuers and kept him safe a little longer, it would have been worth it.
He was straining every sense to detect their approach, but it came with deadly speed. A body slammed him against the wall, and what felt like an iron bar locked against his windpipe, while a hand bit into his right arm, twisting it so if he’d had a weapon, he would have dropped it.
Cursing, he struggled, but he had no leverage and he knew it. Black spots danced before his eyes as he fought for breath. The body pressing him against the wall was merciless, taut muscles holding him no matter what he tried.
Bryce didn’t give up, not ever, but he knew he was outmatched.
Helpless frustration burned inside him that he hadn’t been able to help Tom, to save him.
As the world went dark around him, that cruel pressure on his windpipe eased.
Desperately he pulled in a breath and opened his eyes to find Tom’s shocked face staring at him.
“Oh, God,” Bryce said on a gasp. “Tom.”
He yanked Tom against him, feeling the warmth of him, the reality of his heart beating, and the terror he’d felt at Tom being alone down here began to fade.
Tom resisted at first, his body tense, and then it was as if he melted against Bryce.
Bryce was never going to let him go again.
“You’re okay,” he said into Tom’s neck. “Oh, God, you’re okay.
” He breathed in the warmth of him. “Tom,” he said again, as his arms tightened still further around him, and then his hand was in that dark brown hair, cradling his head against Bryce’s neck, and nothing had ever felt as good as knowing Tom was safe, that they were together.
But Tom was stiffening in his hold and then he pulled back, making a sharp cut-off gesture with his hand when Bryce would have spoken.
Suddenly recalling where they were, that they were anything but safe, Bryce fought to push everything else down and think.
Tom jerked his head for Bryce to follow him and led him back into the room he’d emerged from, threading through the maze of bookcases until they were in a dark corner, next to two doorways into other rooms, giving them more than one possible escape route.
Not that Tom was a professional or anything, Bryce realized with a rueful smile.
Tom turned to him. “How many?” he asked in a low undertone.
Bryce shook his head helplessly. He didn’t know. “At least two, but could be more.”
Tom pursed his lips in thought, and God, Bryce wanted to kiss them.
He bit his tongue hard, and the pain that flared through him got his head back in the game.
He’d have all the time in the world to kiss Tom after this was over.
He needed to concentrate on other things, such as the smell that had been outraging his nostrils for some time now. “You stink,” he said in a low voice.
Tom nodded and rolled up Bryce’s sleeves, his fingers on his skin not exactly helping to keep Bryce’s mind on the killers who were stalking them. But then Tom crouched and, with the suspicion of a grin on his face, smeared something cold, damp, and very smelly on Bryce’s skin.
He wanted to jerk away and curse Tom out, but he kept silent, mindful of their pursuers.
As he realized that the smell rising from his skin was the one that pervaded this place and had prevented him from scenting Tom’s approach earlier, he stood obediently still while Tom went back for more.
Even if he had the suspicion that the second batch wasn’t entirely necessary.
“The downside of this is that it makes it harder for us to scent them, so be aware of that and compensate for it,” Tom warned quietly. “It’s why I didn’t know it was you straight away.”
Bryce just wrinkled his nose and focused on not breathing.
“There’s only one way out, which is the stairs,” Tom said. “With two of us, we have more of a chance of getting past whatever sentries they’ve posted.”
“No.” Bryce said swiftly. He slid his hand into his pocket to check his phone. Still nothing from Matt, but it would come. It would have to.
“We just need to stall,” he explained, following Tom’s example and keeping his voice to a low whisper.
“Matt and Jesse are talking to the Council now, telling them everything. After that, whoever’s responsible will face shifter justice, and that includes the guys after you.
Matt knows, and he’ll make sure they round them all up. ”
Tom was staring at him in shock. If not for the fact it was impossible for him to look anything other than hot, Bryce would have said his mouth was hanging open in a rather unflattering way. “Matt—Jesse—why would they do that? Why would they risk it?”
“Because we put you in this situation, and this is what it takes to make it right,” Bryce said. Despite knowing it might not be welcome, he raised a hand to Tom’s face and cupped his cheek. “I’m sorry,” he said, and scarcely knew what he was apologizing for, there was so much.
Tom shook his head and moved back, looking confused and unhappy. He started to say something, but a noise interrupted him. It was one they were both all too familiar with—the muted but sharp sound of a suppressed gun.
They froze.
“That was a rat, genius.” A disgusted voice came from the direction of the corridor they’d been in just moments ago.
Tom ducked through a doorway, moving away from the voice.
Bryce followed. He might not be quite as soundless as Tom, but he was still pretty damn good.
They moved stealthily along a twisting path of rooms and passages until they found themselves in one that didn’t have any of those bookshelves.
And suddenly Bryce found himself missing them.
They meant someone could sneak up on them, sure, but they were also cover if someone had a gun.
“What now?” he breathed into Tom’s ear.
“More of the same. Hide, stink, pray.” Tom turned so his mouth was pressed against Bryce’s ear in turn, his words barely loud enough to stir the air. “I want to take it to them, but without knowing how many—”
“We’re just stalling for time,” Bryce reminded him, because the last thing he wanted was Tom going off and playing John McClane. Even if Bryce too wanted to stalk and hunt, not run and hide.
He leaned back against the wall and almost fell when it wasn’t where he thought it would be.
Tom grabbed him, eyes furious at the noise he’d made trying to save himself, but Bryce’s attention was on the doorway set into the wall that had caused his problem. It was a small, old-looking wooden door, padlocked shut. He gestured to it with a questioning glance.
Tom shrugged briefly, as if he didn’t know what lay behind the door, then indicated the padlock as if that made the question moot. Well, that was something Bryce could do, even if simply standing silently next to a wall appeared to be beyond him.
He drew out his keys from his pocket, careful to make sure none of them jingled, and removed his lockpick from the key chain. Keeping it there amused the part of him that had never grown up.
At Tom’s raised eyebrow he smirked slightly, unable to help himself. One of his teammates on the volunteer search and rescue unit had been a locksmith and used to pass the time teaching them all to pick locks.
The lock was laughably simple. He guessed that was because it only had to deter law-abiding employees of the National Council as no one else could have gotten into the building to start with.
Having removed the padlock, he lifted the metal latch and slowly inched the door open.
A stone spiral staircase led upward into darkness.
He looked back at Tom, raising his eyebrows in question.
Tom gave a quick shake of his head. “Could be sealed halfway up. Might trap us.”
But then there was a shout from somewhere in the passages they’d come through.
“That’s Jax.” Tom’s lips were against his ear again. “Guess they’ve brought in reinforcements. Let’s go.”
Tom ducked through the narrow doorway, moving fast and crouching low. Bryce followed, pausing only long enough to ease the door shut behind them. The latch clicked with soft finality. There was no going back now.
Then they were climbing, step by step, into the suffocating dark.