God of Monsters (Juniper Unraveling Book 4)

by Keri Lake

  “You won’t be alone.”

  “That’s right. I’ll have their prized doctor Levin with me.” I was briefed earlier that, after my surgery, Doctor Levin released all his patients from the underground lab, and they’ve been hiding out in Freya’s camp, along with Atticus. “Jack’ll think the two of us escaped together. We’ll get inside and open the doors. That’s when you work your magic. While you’re fighting off the Legion soldiers, I’ll go in search of Jack.”

  “No. Not without me.”

  “You have your role to play, Titus.”

  “Atticus is perfectly capable of taking my part.”

  “No.” Atticus strides forward, shaking his head. “No way. I’m not giving up the opportunity to kill this bastard.”

  “I fucking love the smell of early morning testosterone. Such a delight,” Lilith says, tossing a stick aside.

  As I understand, there’s something of a hate-hate relationship between her and Atticus. The two of them can’t seem to stand each other, which makes this mission all the more challenging.

  “Then, it’s settled.” Titus kicks dirt over my diagram in his frustration. “This plan is a no-go.”

  “Stop being stubborn, Titus. It’ll work!”

  “Of course it will. At your expense. The man intended to kill you the first time. You lived. He won’t make the same mistake twice.”

  “Then, what do you propose? You and the others going full force, while I sit here, twiddling my thumbs?”

  “Yes.”

  A growl of anger vibrates inside my chest as I glare back at him. “You’re no better than my father.”

  His eye twitches at that, his tight lips sealing off whatever insult I imagine sits cocked at the back of his throat.

  “Can I talk to you? Alone?” I break away from the small circle, and Titus follows after me, around the corner of the house. “What is this? Are you trying to belittle me in front of everyone?”

  “How am I belittling you?”

  “By making me sound like a weak little girl who can’t fend for herself.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “What, exactly? That you’re a liar?”

  “A liar?” The chasing expression on his face is what I’d expect if I slapped him.

  “You made me feel like I was strong. Suddenly, you’re changing your tune in front of everyone. You don’t trust me? Is that it? You think I’m going to jeopardize everyone?”

  “No.”

  “Then, what? What is it? Why are you being so goddamn difficult?”

  “It’s not a matter of being difficult.” Jaw shifting, nostrils flaring, his reactions warn that I’m thinning his patience.

  Good. “Then, what is it? Because in their eyes, I’m now weak and unreliable! A weak link!”

  “I don’t give a fuck what you are in their eyes.”

  “Of course you don’t! The big bad Alpha wouldn’t dare stoop to the emotions of others!”

  Lip peeled to a snarl, he reminds me of a rabid animal on the verge of attack. I’ve snaked beneath his skin, and it’s only a matter of time before he explodes. “As I said, you don’t understand.”

  “I won’t let you treat me like I’m fragile! I won’t let you treat me like my father! I won’t let you, or any other man, ever break me down again”

  “And I won’t let you break me, either!” The wall slams into my spine, as he presses me against it and wraps his palm around my throat, holding me in a way he hasn’t before. A thrum of fear pulses through my veins with this strange behavior, and for the first time, I wonder if I’ve pushed him too far. “I can tear a man apart with my bare hands, limb by limb, bone by bone.” Words spoken through clenched teeth, he practically sizzles with the heat of his anger, his eye holding an intense, murderous stare, from which I want to turn away, but can’t. “I can burn him alive, and the sound of his screams as his skin turns black is of no consequence to me. I was bred and trained to kill without mercy, or morals, and I would do so without hesitation.” The sharp rage in his eye softens, and he releases my throat, stroking his thumb down my cheek as he swallows back a harsh gulp. “But the thought of someone ever hurting you again is a pain I can’t take. I’m not strong enough for that.”

  “Titus …” I know that pain too well. I felt it when I watched him succumb to the poison. “I promise you, I won’t put you, me, or anyone else in danger.”

  “I’m sorry, Thalia. I would die a thousand times over to keep you safe. I won’t risk it.” Arguing with him is futile, and the expression staring back at me tells me he has zero interest in entertaining my objections. “We’ll bring you his head.”

  An apology simmers on his lips when he presses them to mine.

  “And if something happens to you? I’m here waiting, praying you come back to me?”

  “You’re my reason for staying alive. I’ll come back to you.” With a soft brush of my cheek, he strides off back toward the group.

  The heart is the most stubborn organ in the body, the way it constantly battles the brain. Where my head tells me that Titus is wrong for making me stay back, my heart knows why. It knows, because even as I stand here cursing him, there’s an ache of despair throbbing inside my chest at the thought of never seeing him again. The difference between the two of us is, he was born to fight.

  I wasn’t.

  I was bred to stay behind and care for the home. To wait for man’s return and pray no harm comes to him. I remember those nights as a child, watching my mother weep at the foot of the staircase, waiting on my father’s return from the Deadlands. How hardened her heart became over the years. How unaffected, up until the point she finally received the news of his death.

  She didn’t cry at first, and I thought it odd at the time, but it wasn’t long before I realized. She’d already mourned his death every time he walked out the door. She’d shed so many tears for so long that she was empty of them. Empty of pain. Of emotion.

  Of love, too, I suspect.

  I refuse to let it be that way with Titus. I don’t want a hardened heart like my mother’s. Not with him.

  Rounding back toward the front, I skid to a halt on seeing only Lilith standing by the small gathering spot, where the remains of my diagram on the ground have been trampled by footprints.

  “What’s going on? Where’s Titus?”

  “He and Atticus left to round up supplies and weapons. Told me to gather the women and meet up at the highway.” She twists around, arms crossed, and gives me a onceover. “So I’m gathering the women. Are you ready?”

  Half smiling, I glance toward the empty path, where I suspect Titus and Atticus set afoot. “He’ll be furious when he finds out I’ve tagged along.”

  “Yes, I suppose he will. And tell me, what man doesn’t fight harder when he’s furious?”

  The truck jostles and bounces over the rough terrain, as Lilith drives toward the rendezvous point. My nerves are frayed, imagining the look on Titus’s face, when he sees I’ve gone against his wishes. While I recognize it’s not a matter of control for him, but his fears, the frustration that he would make such a request still festers inside of me, too reminiscent of the days when my father put his fears before my independence.

  The truck rolls to a stop alongside Atticus, who sits off the highway, carving a piece of wood with his blade. How he can remain so calm and collected is a wonder to me. A trait of an Alpha, I’m guessing. He pushes to his feet and strides up to the driver’s window, and I can feel his stare burning into the side of my face, as I try not to look at him.

  “Someone’s going to shit flames when he sees the kitten’s gotten loose.”

  “Did he really expect me to stay put like a good little girl?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch his gaze cruising over Lilith beside me. “Hard to say with Titus. Part of me thinks it’s your feistiness that stirs him the most.”

  “Well, then. Who am I to disappoint him?” Twisting around in the seat, I scan the surroundings for him, finding
nothing but open empty space. “Where is he?”

  “Went to recruit a few more ladies. We’re to wait for his signal at the convent.”

  “A few more ladies? What signal?”

  “He said we’d know” He jerks his head toward Lilith, opening the door. “Scoot over.”

  “Fuck off. I’m driving.”

  His lips curve to a smile that he swipes with his tongue. “Titus isn’t the only one who likes ‘em feisty,” he says, making his way around the vehicle to the passenger door.

  A quick glance shows the corner of Lilith’s lips lifted into a smile, one she’s trying to tamp down with a ridiculous looking frown as she stares toward him, while he passes in front of us.

  Maybe they don’t hate each other as much as everyone thinks.

  I slide across the seat between them, as he climbs into the truck next to me. The proximity of him is a reminder of how big he is. Perhaps only slightly smaller than Titus, but bulky enough to fill the space, with his knees smashed into the dashboard and his arm stretched across the back of the bench.

  Crowding me.

  Unnerving, when the memories of him begin to trickle in, and I’m reminded of the day I stood before him, staring down at his beaten and bloodied face, wanting nothing more than to see him hanged.

  “Do me a favor, if you’re going to come along,” he says, not bothering to look at me.

  “What’s that?”

  “I watched my brother watch over you for days. In all the time I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him look so broken. He’s a man of few words, but it doesn’t take explanation to see what he feels for you is fierce. So don’t get yourself killed, because I’m not sure he could survive that kind of pain again.”

  “Fair enough. And I’m sorry. For what happened to you. I was wrong about you.”

  Gaze still cast from mine, he nods. “Yeah, well, I was wrong about you, too.”

  Hidden deep in the woods, the group disperses across the south end of the convent, keeping low to the brush. Having lived in the forest, the other women seem to have a natural ability to remain concealed, many of them coated in dirt and mud that camouflages their skin. Atticus stares through a set of binoculars given to him by Lilith, scanning over the soldiers posted all around the perimeter of the convent. By the looks of their lax defense, as some play cards, while others stand about smoking cigarettes, they’ve been guarding for some time now.

  “There are so many of them,” I whisper, staring down at the dozens of black uniforms crawling like big black cockroaches over the property. “Where’s Titus?”

  Lowering the binoculars, Atticus tips his head back, as if listening for something.

  “What is it?”

  Setting a finger to his lips, he seems to focus, his eyes trailing over the surrounding woods, and he twists around, aiming the binoculars in the opposite direction.

  As he peers through them, I catch the upward twist of a smirk on his lips, before he hands the binoculars over to me. Through them, I see a large horde of Ragers scrambling along the path. My heart pounds at the sight of them running freely, and the tremble in my muscles is the evidence of trauma still twisting inside of me. They move with purpose, none of them deviating from the main artery that leads to the soldier’s camp. As if driven by the promise of a meal.

  Angling the binoculars toward the thick of the horde, I find a familiar face walking amongst them.

  Titus.

  Lilith snatches up the binoculars from me and peers through. “Jesus, he really is the God of Monsters, isn’t he?”

  “The signal, I suppose.” Atticus pushes to his feet, and at the clink of metal, I peel my eyes from the horde to find the Alpha next to me dropping his pants. “Better get this over with now. I’m sure Titus will forgive me.”

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” At first, the shocked rage in Lilith’s voice matches my own thoughts, until it occurs to me what he intends.

  “Pissing on you,” he answers nonchalantly.

  Warm fluid hits my skin, and I turn my face away, as he aims his stream over the two of us.

  “Have you lost your fucking mind?” The disgust in her tone isn’t unwarranted, as the potent scent of ammonia fills my nose, but Atticus is careful to keep the fluids directed on our clothes.

  “Trust me, you’ll thank me for it. Deters the Ragers about as much as it does you.”

  Staring down at her damp shirt, Lilith grimaces and shoots me an uncertain glance. “It keeps them away?”

  “Quite effectively,” he answers. “You’re welcome.”

  “I hate you. I really, truly hate you.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second.” Atticus winks as he yanks up his jeans, buttoning them shut again. “And neither do you, sweetheart.”

  Shots ring out. Screams bleed from the sky, and I flip over to find the Ragers attacking unannounced. Hundreds of them pouring in over the men like insects.

  Atticus shouts, and the women around me leap to attack, all of them armed with guns. Within seconds, the camp breaks into chaos, the infected swarming over the unsuspecting men in a wave of gore and violence.

  The voices die down to white noise, and everything around me slows, as if I’ve fallen beneath the surface into ice cold water.

  I’ve heard the stories of war.

  I’ve seen the damage written in my father’s weathered skin.

  But I’ve never seen a man eaten alive. I’ve never felt the uncertainty of such violence, the unbridled and riotous bedlam of war.

  At the tug of my arm, I jump to my feet and get dragged behind the massive Alpha, who runs toward the feeding Ragers without a single hint of fear, as if pandemonium is home for him.

  “Stay near me!” Atticus’s voice thunders over the growls and screams, as we weave our way through the crowd.

  Clawed hands catch on my shirt and in my hair, but fail to tear me away from the beast of a man who leads me through. I search for Titus, and find him nowhere, many of the familiar faces swallowed by the commotion. Lilith is nowhere to be found, either.

  We make our way toward the entrance, where soldiers pile in through the door, while those on the other side fight to close it against the Ragers. Yanking me in front of him, Atticus pushes his way through and swings back the door, allowing the infected passage inside. The men break into fighting, shooting at the horde at our backs. One of the soldiers trains his gun on Atticus, but before he can fire the shot, the Alpha knocks it out of his hand, and not a second later, he drives his fist into the soldier’s masked face.

  We race through the chapel toward the door that leads to the lower labs.

  “He’ll be hiding below, no doubt. Cowards always do.” Atticus holds the door open for me, and the moment I duck into the dark stairwell, he jumps ahead to take the lead.

  A masked soldier scurries up the staircase, holding up his gun and his hand as he passes, as if not wanting to engage the Alpha. He slips by, slow and careful, before scrambling toward the door.

  Gunshots from below echo up the staircase, and two more soldiers head toward us. One shoots, and a hot streak across my face tugs a gasp from me. I lift my hand to touch the blistered skin, where the bullet must’ve only grazed me, and exhale a shaky breath.

  On a growl, Atticus charges forward and lifts the man into the air. The gun falls with a clank, and the Alpha throws the soldier’s limp body down the stairwell, taking out two more soldiers below. One powerful kick to the second Legion officer sends him flying back.

  Taking my hand again, Atticus continues the descent toward the labs. The path ends at a large, steel door, one with the biohazard signs I remember from before. Except, I have to question if we went the same route as the last time, as a panel of buttons and a pad with the shape of a hand sits off to the side of it--a security measure I don’t recall from our last visit.

  Laughter from behind draws my attention toward the barrel of a gun aimed at us, emerging from the shadows beneath the stairwell.

  “Looks
like you don’t have the fucking credentials,” the voice says, as the Legion soldier steps into the light, face concealed by the mask he wears.

  Without hesitation, Atticus barrels toward him, and the shot of his gun sends a bullet pinging against the steel door, ricocheting somewhere into the darkness. Another shot reverberates around us, the bullet hitting the stone wall across from me. As with the other soldier, the gun in his hands falls to the floor, and Atticus holds his arm out in front of him.

  One quick snap, and the Legion soldier lets out a blood curdling scream that I shield with the palm of my hands. His body crumples to the floor, where he lies cradling a bleeding stump of bone where his hand has been torn from his arm.

  As Atticus passes, he waves the severed limb in front of me and smiles. “Carte blanche, baby.” Nausea gurgles in my stomach, and I clap a hand over my mouth to keep the vomit climbing my throat from splashing out onto the floor. He rests the hand against the panel, and at the green light, the door clicks, opening up to a long corridor that’s flanked by the glass-encased labs at either side.

  The brightly-lit labs stand empty, sending an eerie sensation over my skin. Hairs raised, I pad after Atticus, eyes sweeping over the stillness.

  It’s too quiet.

  Way too quiet.

  As we make our way toward the door at the end of the hall, which leads to those creepy human tanks, a ticking sound skates up my spine.

  Atticus comes to a stop, and both of us turn around at the same time, facing the door through which we entered. The fluorescent light overhead flickers.

  A figure steps into view.

  “Oh, God,” I whisper, backing myself toward the door. Muscles trembling, a tight grip of panic squeezes my lungs to nothing more than shallow breaths.

  At the opposite end of the hallway, two white, translucent creatures with soulless black eyes block our only escape. Atticus slides a blade from a side holster at his hip, never taking his eyes off the mutations.

  “Get out of here.” His voice is as steady and calm as his hand when he pushes me behind him.

  I slip through the door at my back, leaving him alone in the corridor, and the second I’m on the other side, I peer through the small, glass square window, to find the mutations charging toward him.