50. Crew
CHAPTER FIFTY
CREW
T he ache in my temple is almost too painful to force my eyes open through, but even without piecing together what happened at the compound, I know I’m in danger.
When you’ve lived the life I have, you spend most of your existence expecting something bad to happen. And when you wake up with a headache like the one thumping through my head, it’s a pretty sure-fire way of reminding you of that.
I wrench my eyes open and blink through the pain that assaults me. The first thing I realize is that I’m not at the compound anymore.
The next is that I’m strung from chains attached to the ceiling, my toes barely brushing over the filthy concrete at my feet.
And after that, is Camilla strung up across from me.
Her arms are pulled in different directions as opposed to mine, which are straight over my head, and her feet are flush with the ground, but her head still lolls to the side, meaning she’s still unconscious.
I shove the panic that threatens to rise down as I try to piece together the moments that lead us here. We separated from the others, that I remember clearly.
We’d discussed it in passing that there was a possibility the compound would be attacked. Caleb knew where it was, and he wasn’t going to allow us to hide out there forever, so we decided that if that eventuality occurred, Camilla and I would use the tunnels and meet the others at the safe house.
I know we made it into the tunnels because I remember the feel of her hand in mine as I dragged her along. She was so hesitant to leave the others, but she was safer this way. Or so I thought.
How could they possibly know about the tunnel? No one knows about it outside of us.
Or the people that work for you , the thought hits me harder than it usually would.
Someone we trust betrayed us.
I breathe through another wave of agony in my head, pressing my eyes closed as I roll my neck to the other side, hoping the new position will help ease the pain. But that’s when I feel it.
My eyes fly open, as I look over Camilla. She’s still wearing the sweatpants and sweatshirt she was when I dressed her, but it’s only now that I notice the blood that soaks one side of her neck and the gray fabric around it.
They cut out our trackers.
Another thing they couldn’t have possibly known about without help.
Rogers.
He’s the only person who knows about them, because he was the one that shot them into our necks. He knew exactly where they were. And he could have easily cut them out.
Camilla groans and pulls me from my thoughts. Her head rolls forward, and a gasp of pain fills the small room. We’re surrounded by concrete, not dissimilar to the room Kovu uses to torture people at the compound, but we’re far enough apart that no matter how much we stretch, we won’t be able to reach one another.
“Camilla,” I say softly. “Don’t freak out.”
Her eyes flutter open and fall on me. “Crew?”
“Yeah, baby. It’s me.” I try to keep my voice even and the panic from shining through, but the fact that we’re both tied up and there’s no way for the others to find us makes it hard to compartmentalize.
Her eyes track around the room the same way mine did, and then she looks up at where her arms are bound. I don’t think her shoulders will hurt quite as much as mine do, seeing as they’re supporting most of my weight, but I can’t imagine being spread out like that is very comfortable.
“What do we do?” she asks, none of the panic I expect clouding her gray eyes as she looks to me for a plan I haven’t figured out yet.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
Camilla nods slowly before she looks around again. Her bottom lip disappears between her teeth, and she nibbles on the soft pillow as she takes in our surroundings. The chains, the walls, the chair off to the side.
She looks over at where her wrist is bound and tugs at the chain, causing it to rattle loudly.
“What are your binds like?”
I look up and tug at my wrists, but they’re sturdy enough to hold my body weight so I don’t know that I’ll be slipping them anytime soon. “Tight.”
“Okay.” She clicks her tongue as she thinks through our options, and I hope like hell she’s going to come up with something when I couldn’t. “I might be able to slip the chain on my left wrist.”
“The one you broke?” My brows tug together.
“If I dislocate my thumb, I think I’ll be able to get it free.”
“Camilla.” I shake my head.
“It’s either that or we die here.” She pins me with a glare. “Another six weeks in a cast seems like the better option to me.”
I swallow down the bile that rises in my throat. I don’t want her to have to be hurt at all, but she’s right. If that’s an option, it’s one we have to take.
I’m about to nod when footsteps on the other side of the door, which must be behind me, cause me to pause. “Be good,” I say.
“Aren’t I always?”
I don’t get a chance to respond before the door swings open and light filters in around us, illuminating Camilla on the far side of the room.
“Ah, good. You’re both awake.” Caleb’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard after everything he’s done, but I’m not surprised to hear it.
His footsteps round my immobile body, and I turn my head to track his movements the same way Camilla is. He’s wearing a suit like the ones I normally wear, well fitted and expensive, with his hair pulled back in a low ponytail. It never used to be quite so long, falling around his chin, but now it’s around his shoulders and can easily be contained.
“Caleb, what are you doing?” I ask, keeping my voice even.
“I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago.”
“And that is?” Camilla asks, her eyes defiant as she stares him in the eye.
“I’m cutting the head off the snake, but not before I tear his heart out.”