Thornhill h-2

by Kathleen Peacock

  Pressure built inside my chest. Twenty seconds ago, I had been convinced I would never see Jason again, but that was preferable to seeing him here. My gaze slid to the two men in blue standing on either side of him.

  Three guards to dispatch of two teenage regs.

  Jason’s gaze swept my face. He frowned. “Unhurt. That was one of the conditions.”

  Tanner shrugged. “It’s just a bruise. Feel free to stay and take it up with the warden.”

  I raised a hand to my cheek. It was still tender where Sinclair had hit me. My eyes darted from Jason to Tanner and then back as I wondered what the hell was going on.

  Before I could ask, a grinding noise—a thousand times worse than nails on a chalkboard—filled the air. The gates leading out of the camp rolled open and a black Lincoln Town Car drove through. It pulled a U-turn in the courtyard and then came to a smooth stop forty feet away.

  Tanner shifted his grip to my forearm as he pulled a strange clamplike device from his pocket.

  Instinctively, I flinched.

  “Relax.” He slipped the device over my wrist cuff and rotated it ninety degrees. The cuff sprang open with a click and Tanner slid it off. Only then did I think of my contraband bracelet.

  A curious expression crossed his face as his eyes roamed over the coins. His gaze seemed to linger a fraction longer on Hank’s charm, but he stepped away without comment.

  Two men climbed out of the car. The driver was pudgy and balding while the man who stepped out of the passenger side had thick dark hair and a runner’s build. Both carried guns in shoulder holsters and each had a black dagger tattooed on his neck. I had spent enough of my childhood around violent men to read body language; these two were career bad guys.

  My gaze darted to Jason. He didn’t look surprised to see the Trackers. If anything, he looked . . . relieved?

  He met my stare with a dark expression I couldn’t fathom as he strode to my side and took my arm. The guards didn’t stop him.

  What had he done?

  His grip just shy of painful, Jason herded me to the car.

  “What did you do?” I choked out the words as panic clawed at my throat. We couldn’t leave. Sinclair had Serena and Dex. She had Kyle. She was going to put him in a room with a digital clock. They would break every bone in his body while cameras rolled, and when it was over, he’d be like Serena—barely reachable.

  One of the Trackers pulled open the back door of the car.

  “Get in,” snapped Jason, momentarily letting go of my arm.

  “What? No!” I shook my head and retreated a step.

  “Get in, Mackenzie.” Jason’s voice was cold and dismissive. Almost unrecognizable. In three years, I couldn’t remember him ever using my full name.

  I started to take another step back, but he was too fast. Before I knew it, I had been forced into the Town Car and the door was slamming shut.

  It was a car for the wealthy and powerful—all-leather interior with a sheet of dark glass dividing the back from the front—but the details barely registered as I grabbed the door handle. Locked.

  Jason slid into the other side of the car.

  Desperate, I threw myself across his lap, scrambling for his door before he could haul it shut.

  Too late.

  He grabbed my wrists and pushed me back. “Sinclair knows you’re a reg,” he hissed. “What do you think you can do for them by staying?”

  Tears—hot and angry—filled my eyes and distorted Jason’s face as I struggled against him. Even as some part of me knew he had a point, my fear for Kyle and Serena left me wild. Almost rabid.

  He used his body to pin me to the seat. For a second, I had a flashback that it was Ben on top of me, forcing me to the floor in his bedroom.

  My knee connected with Jason’s leg just below the groin. He let out a strangled groan but didn’t relax his hold.

  I didn’t want him touching me. I didn’t want him touching me ever again. “Get off of me,” I snarled. I sounded crazed. Infected. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Not until you calm down.”

  “You had no right—”

  Jason cut me off. “I promised Kyle.”

  I froze. “Promised Kyle what?”

  “That I’d get you out if I had a chance. So many strange things were happening at the camp that he worried Sinclair wouldn’t let you go—even if she found out you were a reg.”

  “You’re lying. He would have told me.” But even as the words left my mouth, I knew they weren’t true. Kyle had kept things from me before—like his infection and leaving Hemlock. All of the fight drained out of me and I sagged against the seat.

  Slowly, cautiously, Jason let go of my wrists and eased his body off mine.

  Kyle must have heard Tanner tell Sinclair the Trackers were nearing the camp. He must have known they were coming for Jason and me. That was why he had told me not to resist.

  The tears I had barely managed to keep in check finally spilled over. It felt as though something had punched through my breastbone and was prying my ribs apart.

  Jason reached for me—comfort, not restraint—but I edged away. “I told you not to touch me.” The words were raw with the strain of not sobbing.

  I wiped my eyes with the edge of my sleeve and turned to stare out the back window.

  Thornhill was already gone. The only thing behind us was empty road.

  Sinclair had broken Serena and she would break Kyle and Dex. For all I knew, Eve hadn’t made it out and was either dead or in her grasp as well.

  The warden held all of the cards. Everything that mattered. I didn’t have so much as a shred of proof about what was really going on beneath the sanatorium. Beneath Willowgrove.

  Fresh tears blurred my vision.

  Whatever game we had fallen into, Sinclair had won.

  21

  AFTER AMY DIED, I HAD SPENT SLEEPLESS NIGHTS WONDERING what falling into a black hole would feel like. Everything that made you up—every atom, every thought—would be pulled apart in a moment where time had no meaning.

  I don’t know how or why that specific thought had started. Maybe it was because Amy was our center; without her, everything seemed to collapse.

  Sitting in the Town Car as we got farther and farther from Thornhill, I didn’t have to wonder what being torn apart would feel like: I knew.

  Slowly, every muscle aching, I turned my back on the empty road.

  I reached out and ran a finger over the tinted glass separating us from the Trackers. “Can they hear us?” I tried to look at Jason. It took me two attempts to manage it.

  “No.” He nodded as he said the word.

  Yes, then. I started with the question that seemed safest. “What are they doing here?”

  “I called them.” Jason swallowed and my eyes were drawn to the ring of bruises around his neck.

  It struck me, suddenly, how lucky he was. How lucky we both were. A werewolf should have been able to snap his neck like a twig, and there was no way I should have just walked away after one shoved me into a wall. Not any time soon. Either some part of Serena was still capable of holding back, or whatever they had done to her had left her with little more strength than a reg.

  Ben had been able to control his own version of bloodlust—not much, but a little. Enough that he had tried to fight the urge to kill me.

  I pushed the thought away. I didn’t want to believe Serena had bloodlust or anything like it. “How did you call them?” I asked, forcing myself to focus back on Jason. “You told me cells were jammed inside the camp.”

  “They are.” He gave me a long, searching stare. “Mac, I . . .” He glanced at the smoky glass and cut himself off from whatever it was he wanted to say. “The doctor stepped out of the infirmary to talk to the guys who brought me upstairs. I used the phone on his desk to call my contact in Denver. With all the extra guards on patrol, I figured there might not be anyone monitoring the outgoing calls. I was right.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, leaving
it sticking up in an unruly halo. “I told the Trackers that Sinclair was hiding wolves from the LSRB and putting their welfare above the safety of the regs on staff. I didn’t have time to tell them much, but it was enough for them to want a full report. Enough for them to get me out.”

  I stared at him skeptically. “And, what? They asked nicely and she just let us go?”

  “They threatened to tell the LSRB about the discrepancy in her registration records. You know how much government agencies like audits. They’d send agents to Thornhill before Sinclair could say ‘investigation.’”

  And if she was working on some crazy cure in secret, an investigation was the last thing she’d want.

  I sank back against the seat and pressed the heels of my palms to my eyes until starbursts fired behind my closed lids. “She’ll take it out on Kyle and Dex,” I said, slowly lowering my hands. I wanted to throw up. “She’ll make the two of them pay for the fact that we got out—that’s if she doesn’t just make them crazy like Serena.”

  “I didn’t have a choice, Mac.”

  I didn’t say anything. There was nothing I could say without completely losing it and saying too much. What had given them—both him and Kyle—the right to go behind my back and make secret plans to get me out whether I wanted them to or not?

  A small voice in the back of my head pointed out that I wouldn’t have survived one day of Sinclair’s torture. Besides, it whispered, you kept secrets from them, too. You didn’t tell them about the charm or your plan to get Serena and Eve out.

  As hard as I tried, I couldn’t completely tune out the voice.

  I let out a shaky breath. Being angry at Jason might be temporarily satisfying, but it wouldn’t help anything in the long run. “I get why the Trackers would come to your rescue, but why am I here? Why would they bother with me?”

  He shrugged. “I told them you were an undercover reporter who had seen a lot more of the camp than I had.”

  It beat telling them who I really was. If the Trackers found out they had the reg daughter of a pack leader . . .

  Bait or blackmail: those would be the best-case scenarios.

  The thought hit me a nanosecond before the car swerved.

  I was thrown against Jason so violently that I ended up half in his lap.

  “What the hell are they doing?” The words had barely left Jason’s lips when the car put on a sudden burst of speed.

  I pushed away and then froze. A sliver of white and chrome was visible through Jason’s window for a split second before it fell back.

  My pulse jumped as I strained to catch a glimpse of the other car. There were white jeeps at Thornhill—a whole row of them next to the admission building. Had Sinclair changed her mind about letting us go?

  Jason tried to lower the partition separating us from the Trackers. It wouldn’t go down. “Hey!” He hit it with his fist, splitting his knuckles and leaving a dark smear against the glass.

  The car swerved again, this time throwing both of us to my side of the seat as gunfire erupted behind us.

  “Down!” I yelled, grabbing Jason’s arm and rolling us both to the floor.

  His breath came out in a whoosh as I landed on top of him, but his arms strained around me, holding me tightly as another round of gunfire split the air.

  There was a bone-jarring impact from behind. The Town Car put on a second burst of speed, but it wasn’t enough. A scream ripped from my throat as the car was hit again. The sound of groaning metal filled the air, and with a third hit, they managed to run us off the road.

  The car bounced over uneven ground and then pitched sharply to the left. We tilted onto two wheels. For a horrible moment, I thought we were going to flip, but then the other wheels crashed back to the ground and we came to a shuddering stop.

  Jason’s heart pounded against my chest. My own matched it beat for beat.

  The sudden stillness was almost surreal.

  “Are you all right?” His voice was a rough whisper against my cheek.

  I nodded and a wave of dizziness made everything spin as bile rushed up the back of my throat. I struggled to speak. “Think so. You?”

  “So far.”

  There was a shout from outside. The Town Car shook as one of the front doors was wrenched open, and there was a jagged scream that abruptly cut off.

  Everything went horribly quiet.

  Voice raw, I whispered, “If you’re carrying any sort of weapon, now would be a really good time to tell me.”

  “Only my razor-sharp wit.”

  We were so dead.

  Fear flooded Jason’s eyes and I knew he was thinking the same thing.

  We were going to die.

  We were going to die far from home and everyone who cared about us.

  We were going to die, and no one would ever know what had happened.

  I choked back a sob.

  Outside, there were more shouts followed by the sound of an engine—the jeep, probably. A single gunshot rang out.

  “Mac . . . I . . . if . . . Oh, what the hell.” The space we were wedged in was barely wide enough for Jason’s shoulders, but he somehow flipped us so that my back was pressed to the floor and his body was covering mine.

  My hands were trapped against his chest. “Jason, what—”

  Before I could finish the question, his lips crashed against mine.

  I went completely still as the kiss stole the breath from my lungs. I should have pushed Jason away—I knew that—but I was scared. So scared. If these were our last minutes on earth—if this was the end—wasn’t it better for a kiss to be the last thing I remembered?

  My lips parted under Jason’s and the kiss deepened. It wasn’t fierce and desperate; it was sad and lost. I managed to get my hands free and slipped my arms around him, holding him close as I tried to block out the sound of more gunshots.

  Jason pulled back a fraction of an inch. “I love you.” The words were a shaky whisper against my lips.

  I held him tighter because it was the only thing I could do.

  The door behind Jason was yanked open and light flooded the back of the car.

  “No!” My scream echoed in my ears as he was pulled outside.

  I started to scramble after him, but the other door was wrenched open and strong arms locked around my waist. They pulled me back, into the bright sunlight.

  As soon as my legs cleared the car, I fought. I kicked and yelled and scratched with my nails. I caught flashes of movement—other people in a barren field along the side of the road—but they were only impressions.

  They could kill me, but I was going to inflict as much damage as humanly possible first.

  “Jesus Christ, kid.”

  I froze and glanced down at the hands holding me.

  Familiar spiderwebs of scars across the knuckles and a silver ring—a ring, I realized, that bore the same symbol as the charm on my bracelet.

  For the second time—third if you counted his attempt to get me out of the camp—my father had come to my rescue.

  No sooner had the details clicked into place than Hank’s hands fell away. I stumbled and caught myself against the open car door as Jason came to my side.

  The rest of the field slowly came into focus.

  A handful of men and women milled around, all of them looking more than capable of taking care of themselves. Since their presence didn’t seem to bother Hank, I assumed they were part of his pack.

  A white jeep was parked fifty feet away, its hood crushed like a tin can. A body was slumped over the steering wheel.

  One Tracker—the one who looked like a runner—was lying dead on the ground halfway between the jeep and the Town Car. He had taken a bullet to the head. The bodies of two men lay crumpled not far away. I walked over to them and stared down at what I could see of their faces. Though they were wearing plainclothes, I recognized them as guards from Thornhill.

  My stomach flipped. “Did you kill them?” I asked, looking up.

  “Didn’t have much cho
ice. They started firing as soon as they saw us.” The stubble Hank had been sporting the other night had filled out into the beginnings of a full beard. His battered leather jacket bulged slightly on the left side, a sign he was carrying at least one gun. He raised an eyebrow. “Any objections?”

  “None,” I replied, my voice flat and hard and unfamiliar to my own ears. The guards had fired on the car and run us off the road. I had no illusions about what they would have done to Jason and me.

  “Did you kill the Trackers?” Jason’s voice was carefully blank.

  The look Hank shot him was long and appraising. After a moment, he shook his head. “They hauled that one out and shot him before they saw us. The other one is in the car. Looks like he was hit and bled out just after the crash.” It was clear he didn’t consider the two deaths a loss.

  I stepped away from the bodies at my feet. “These ones are guards. From Thornhill.” I swallowed and glanced at the Town Car. It was riddled with more spots than a Clearasil ad. If Hank and his wolves hadn’t shown up when they had . . .

  I shook my head. “How did you find us? How did you know we were in trouble?”

  Hank’s gaze drifted down to my bracelet. “There’s a tracking chip inside the charm. That way, if the men I bribed to get you out had gone back on the deal, I would have at least known where you were.”

  A voice called him over to the jeep. “Stay here,” he ordered, striding away before I could respond.

  “What men? What bribe?” Jason’s voice was sharp. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

  “Nothing,” I said quickly as I started after Hank. If he had known where I was, then he’d be able to track Eve. He’d know if Sinclair had her.

  I had barely gone three feet when I caught a glimpse of red out of the corner of my eye.

  “Impressive.” Eve stood where I was certain there had been empty space just a moment before. She rocked back on the heels of a pair of cherry-colored Doc Martens. Gone was the gray Thornhill uniform; in its place was a baggy flannel shirt knotted over a black tank top and jeans. There was a tired, pinched look around her eyes, but otherwise she looked fine. Better than fine. “I leave you on your own for less than a day and you piss off the warden so bad that she sends a hit squad after you.”