Thornhill (Hemlock) (18 page)

Kyle tried to protect her and collapsed as a Taser took him full in the chest.

A scream shredded my throat. I tried to move forward, but the guards blocked my way and penned me in.

The electricity coursing through Kyle’s body stopped. He tore the darts from his chest and staggered to his feet.

The voice of a female guard rang through the cell. “Keep resisting, and we’ll tase the girl.”

Half the Tasers in the room swung in Serena’s direction.

Kyle didn’t have a choice: wordlessly, he held up his hands in surrender.

We were both herded into the hallway. There was no sign of Jason, and instead of turning toward the stairs, guards forced us in the opposite direction.

Serena started screaming and her cries chased us down the detention block. I covered my ears, desperate to block out the sound.

It wasn’t until we were shoved through a door and into an old, untouched part of the psych ward that the cries fell away.

I shivered and tried not to stumble over the debris covering the floor.

Here, there were no white tile walls or rooms that smelled of bleach. Instead, the corridors reeked of mold and looked like the setting for one of those shows where B-list celebrities went ghost hunting. Half the doors were off their hinges, offering glimpses into abandoned rooms filled with broken furniture, shredded paper, and graffitied walls.

Kyle and I were flung into the last room on the left: a cell with peeling green paint and a single lamp that hung down from the ceiling like a flying saucer. There was one window above the door; all of the other walls were solid.

The door slammed shut. For the second time since leaving Hemlock, we had been locked in a room without hope of escape.

S
OMETHING SCURRIED IN THE CORNER AND DARTED
behind a mildew-stained mattress. With a small shudder, I moved a little farther down the wall. I wasn’t sure how long we had been in the cell—long enough for my legs to ache from standing—but there was no sign that anyone was coming for us anytime soon.

“Why a camp?” Kyle paced the room. “If the government was working on a cure, they’d do it at the CDC or some secret lab. There are better ways. Easier ways.” He shook his head. “And they wouldn’t need to pay the Trackers to bring wolves in—not when the camps are full of them. Sinclair has to be doing it on her own.”

I bit my lip and chipped flakes of paint off the wall with the edge of my thumbnail. “Finding a cure for LS would take way more resources than a warden and a handful of program coordinators. You’d need labs. Doctors. Money.”

Kyle paused. “So maybe she’s working with someone?”

“Or found out what someone else was doing and stole it.” Industrial espionage. That was a thing, wasn’t it? I scrubbed a hand over my face. In a way, it didn’t matter. We were trapped; even if we knew exactly what was going on at Thornhill, there wasn’t anything we could do to stop it. Our only hope was that Eve had made it to the truck, that she had gotten out of the camp and would somehow be able to stage a rescue.

I considered telling Kyle about the charm and the deal my father had made, but instead I asked the same question I had asked seventeen times before. “What do you think’s happening to them?”

Kyle didn’t say anything; I knew he didn’t have an answer any more than I did, but I couldn’t stop asking. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Serena attack Jason. I saw her face as Kyle pulled her away. Feral. Wild. Not a trace of my friend inside.

And it was my fault.

Shivering, I pushed myself up onto an old wooden dresser and scooted back until my shoulder blades rested against the wall. “Kyle?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.” I dropped my gaze to my knees because that was easier than looking at him. “This is my fault. All of it.”

“Don’t be stupid.” He started pacing again. He was like one of those animals you saw at the zoo—the ones that walked the length of their cage until they collapsed.

“I’m not being stupid.” All of this had happened because I had tried so hard to hold on, because I hadn’t let go when Kyle had wanted me to. “If I hadn’t followed you to Denver . . .”

“The raid would still have happened. It didn’t have anything to do with you.”

“But you might have gotten away. And Jason and Serena wouldn’t have been there. They . . .” A lump rose in my throat and I couldn’t finish the sentence.

Kyle crossed the room. He placed his hands flat on the dresser, one on either side of me, close enough that his thumbs grazed my legs. “Mac. Look at me.”

I shook my head. I couldn’t.

“
Mac
.”

I forced myself to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark and earnest without a hint of the blame I knew I deserved.

“All of us made choices. Including Jason and Serena.”

“But they made them because of me. Jason came to Denver to help me find you, and Serena came because I called her.”

“Serena wanted an adventure, and Jason . . .” Kyle pulled in a deep breath. “Jason’s in love with you.” He reached up and brushed the hair back from my face. “Neither of them had entirely selfless motives. You can keep blaming yourself, but it’s a waste of time and energy.”

I shook my head. “You sound like my father.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Gee, thanks.”

“I just meant you sound practical,” I elaborated. “Hank has a lot of flaws but he’s always been very good at practical. He used to say guilt was a useless emotion.” I slipped a finger under my wrist cuff and ran it along the charm. I hoped Eve had acquired that same practical edge. I hoped she had gone for the truck even if she realized we were trapped in the sanatorium. It was what Hank would have done.

Silence filled the room like the tide coming in.

“What do you think is going to happen to us?” I asked, when I couldn’t take the quiet any longer.

“I’m trying not to think about it, actually.” Kyle leaned forward. He didn’t tell me that everything would be all right or that things weren’t that bad. He didn’t lie.

I brushed my lips against his.

It was a soft kiss. Gentle and comforting.

After a moment, Kyle pulled back. “Promise you’ll tell them that you’re a reg.”

“Do you really think it matters now?” It couldn’t—not after I’d been caught sneaking into the sanatorium.

He frowned and ran his hands lightly over my legs, letting his palms come to rest on my knees. “Maybe not.”

I pressed my forehead to his. “Kyle?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really scared.” Saying the words made the fear seem more real, but it also eased some of the pressure in my chest.

In response, he kissed me again. Like before, the kiss started off gentle and comforting, but this time, it quickly plunged into something distracting and desperate.

I tried to bury everything in the kiss—all of my guilt and anger and fear—as Kyle’s hands slid up my back and knotted in my hair. I clung to him with every inch of every limb and kissed him like it was the last time I’d ever get the chance.

After a while, Kyle’s hands slid to my shoulders and he eased me away. “Mac, there’s something I have to tell you . . . about what happened in Denver. . . .” His voice held a jagged edge that had nothing to do with his being infected and everything to do with the fact that I had just spent the last several minutes trying to devour him.

He pulled in a calming breath as he searched for words.

“Is this something that’s going to upset me?”

“Maybe,” he admitted.

“We’re stuck in a dilapidated cell in an evil rehabilitation camp awaiting possible death, torture, or insanity. Maybe you could hold on to whatever you have to say until after we figure out if we’re going to survive?”

Despite the situation, a small smiled tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Okay.” He leaned in for another kiss, but suddenly stopped. His brow creased as he tilted his head to the side.

“What is it?”

“Guards, I think.”

Kyle tugged me off the dresser and then carried it over to the door as though it weighed nothing. He placed it underneath the window and then hopped up effortlessly. “It’s Dex,” he said as he peered out into the hall.

“What about Eve?” A knot formed in my chest as I scrambled up after him.

Kyle shook his head. The dresser wobbled under our combined weight and he reached for my arm to steady me. “Just Dex.”

I pressed my face to the dusty glass.

Dex stood between two guards, his back to us. He was shirtless and his skin was covered with dark patches. He hugged his chest—hugged it so tightly that his fingers dug into his sides and his shoulders shook. Bile rose in my throat as I realized the patches on his skin were dried blood.

“Dex?” Kyle’s voice was too low for the guards to hear, but loud enough for a werewolf.

Dex swayed slightly on his feet, but showed no sign of hearing.

One guard unlocked the cell across from us. As soon as the door swung open, the other pushed Dex inside. Dex stumbled forward and crashed to his knees.

Without a word, the guards pulled the door shut and left.

“Dex?” Kyle called, louder this time. There was no answer.

“What if he’s passed out?” I thought of internal injures and those stories you heard about people choking to death on their own vomit.

“He’ll be okay,” said Kyle, the words automatic and without strength behind them.

“What if Eve . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the question. If Eve wasn’t with Dex, did that mean she had gotten away? Or did it mean something really bad had happened?

“Eve is probably laying low.” Kyle stepped off the dresser and landed lightly on the balls of his feet. “And Dex . . . Dex will be fine.” But he didn’t sound convinced and he avoided meeting my eyes.

I lowered myself to a crouch and then eased down to the floor. As I did, my fingers grazed a thin, brittle piece of paper glued to the side of the dresser. An inventory label. I peered at it, curious. It was yellow with age and it took me a moment to decipher the faded lettering.

My breath caught in my throat and my heart raced.

“What is it?” asked Kyle.

I shook my head, unable to string syllables together. The label read:
Property of Willowgrove.

It was here.

Willowgrove wasn’t a secret camp or some trick to balance the books as they killed off wolves. It was the name of the old sanatorium. The name of the place where they were testing Sinclair’s cure.

Time was hard to gauge when you were locked in a dilapidated cell with no hope of escape. We ended up sitting with our backs against the wall. Sometimes we talked or held hands. Other times we stayed silent, each lost in dark thoughts.

Eventually, exhaustion caught up with me, and I found myself slipping in and out of that space between waking and dreams. In those moments, it was like Amy was in the cell with us, whispering things that Kyle couldn’t hear.

“You’re going to get him killed, you know,” she said, crouching next to me and leaning in close.

I jerked awake with enough force that I slammed the back of my head against the wall.

I blinked, for a moment disorientated.

Kyle was no longer beside me. He was standing near the door.

“What is it?” I climbed wearily to my feet and rubbed my aching skull.

Instead of answering, he backed up, placing himself between me and the entrance a handful of heartbeats before the door swung open.

Two guards shoved the dresser aside. They stormed into the cell and three more followed in their wake. Four of the men held Tasers, the other gripped a gun.

All five trained their weapons on Kyle.

I expected them to yell or give us an order, but they just stood there. Waiting.

The sound of high heels echoed down the hall. My pulse pounded behind my ears and my legs felt suddenly shaky. I could think of only one person who would wear heels in a place like this.

Warden Sinclair stepped through the doorway. She slipped her hands into the pockets of her slacks as she surveyed everything and everyone in the room. Her suit looked freshly pressed and her hair and makeup were both immaculate. She was a surreal contrast to the decay and grime surrounding us.

A small smile—one without an ounce of kindness or sincerity—curved her mouth. No sooner had it appeared than Kyle fell to his knees.

I reached for him, but one of the guards trained his Taser on me. I wasn’t a wolf: if they tased me, I might not get back up.

“So it is true.” Sinclair slipped her hands from her pockets. An HFD was nestled in her palm. “You really are just a human.”

I started to ask how she had known, but I was certain I already knew the answer. Jason. He had told her—either willingly or because she had forced it out of him. Serena was incapable of making sense, and Eve . . . Eve was like Hank. Even if Sinclair had gotten her hands on her, Eve wouldn’t have broken.

The warden slid the HFD back into her pocket.

Kyle shook off the effects of the device, but before he was fully on his feet, one of the guards grabbed my arm and pulled me away from him.

I tried to twist free and came face-to-face with Tanner. The last time I’d been caught in the sanatorium, the redheaded guard had seemed almost sympathetic. This time, he was cold and impassive. His grip was like a vise as he pulled me to the warden.

“Let her go.” Kyle’s voice was a barely recognizable growl.

“I don’t think so.” With a wave of Sinclair’s hand, the other four guards in the room converged on Kyle.

I hadn’t thought it was possible for me to hate anyone as much as I hated Branson Derby and Ben, but in that moment, I would have traded my soul for the ability to hurt the woman in front of me. “What did you do to Serena?”

Ignoring my question, she said, “I took you into my confidence, gave you a chance to prove yourself, and you’ve been lying since the moment you entered my camp.” Something that looked like disappointment passed behind her eyes. “I misjudged you.”

I’m not the one torturing people and burying them in the woods
. The words flew to my lips but I bit them back. The less the warden thought we knew, the safer we’d probably be.

“How did you get inside Thornhill?”

I swallowed as Tanner tightened his grip on my arm. The girl I had switched vials with was long gone. There was nothing Sinclair could do to her. “I swapped samples with one of the wolves. Where’s Jason?” I knew he had used an alias, but I couldn’t remember it and it didn’t matter now.

The small creases around Sinclair’s mouth deepened. “Tell me what you were doing last night. The boy’s a Tracker, but who sent you? The RfW? No, they’re too spineless. One of the Colorado packs?”

I shook my head. “Does Serena have bloodlust? Did you give it to her?”

In a blur, Sinclair’s hand shot out. She grabbed my chin and gripped it so tightly that her nails dug into my skin. She glanced at Kyle over my shoulder. “Take another step and I’ll have the guards tase her instead of you.” She was using me against him just like they had used Serena back in the detention block. The threat was as effective now as it had been then.

The warden’s gaze shifted back to me. “What were you doing last night? How many others are involved?”

The radio at Tanner’s waist crackled to life with a burst of static. At a nod from Sinclair, he let go of my arm and stepped into the hall. He closed the door behind him, making it impossible to hear whatever was said—impossible for a reg, at least.

Sinclair’s eyes bore into mine as her fingers continued to dig into my skin. I was too scared of what they might do to Kyle to struggle. “I am not toying with you,” she said. “I am not about to let one stupid girl jeopardize Thornhill and everything I’ve worked for.”

“You mean Willowgrove?” Fear and exhaustion made me slip, and even though I knew the words were a mistake, I felt a brief surge of satisfaction as Sinclair released her hold on me and stepped back.