Peyton couldn’t tell if they were male or female, and they had no arms or legs.
Or eyes.Or…
Well, nothing resembling a face except nostrils and an opening that was their mouth.
Their hair was completely gone, and an ugly scar on their throat resembled a tracheotomy scar, but Peyton had a suspicion they’d undergone an operation to destroy their vocal cords and silence them.Their body was a cruel, twisted topographical map of deliberate scars and wounds he suspected resulted from tests on how well they could heal.They were too perfectly shaped, and too numerous, to be random.
Peyton turned away and gave selfish thanks that had not been his fate.
Then he heard people yelling—screaming—from the far end of that wing.
Not their people.
Their team was removing an unconscious woman from a small cell.Across from hers, a man raged incoherently, screaming as he pounded against his door, sounding like he was throwing his full weight against it.
Peyton exchanged a look with another Prime.“Who’s got the jab stick?”
The Prime called out for someone.
The man ran up with the pole, which had been one of Aisling’s requirements.They could fit a syringe in it and extend it up to eight feet.Usually used for safely injecting livestock at a distance, they knew they’d need it in case of a Prime.They didn’t have time to try to convince people they were being rescued; they needed to get them out fast, meaning drugging anyone who was too dangerous to try to reason with or put hands on to Prime them to sleep.
The cell’s door had an access slot for food trays, which was latched.
They prepped a large syringe with a full load of ketamine, and Peyton motioned for the other Prime to be quiet and jump back after opening the latch.
Peyton readied himself and nodded, and when the hatch swung open, the man inside that cell immediately thrust his arm out, wildly trying to grab anyone.
Holding his breath, Peyton jabbed him hard and fast, getting the entire shot into him before he could withdraw his arm.
Peyton motioned for the other Prime to get him another syringe, and he loaded it so they could prepare to open the door.
Inside, the man’s voice almost immediately started slurring, fading, and Peyton breathed a sigh of relief that the plan was working.Still, he waited another minute before leaning down, well out of touching range, to peek inside the room through the slot.
The man was still conscious but on the floor on his hands and knees, his back to the cell door.Peyton knew he wasn’t faking it because he struggled too hard to fight the effects of the drug.
Working together, Peyton readied himself while the other Prime opened the door.Before the prisoner inside could turn, Peyton got the full jab into the man’s ass before jumping back, waiting.
The Prime went down, going limp.Peyton motioned for a smaller syringe and gave him yet another dose, because he suspected even this much was a questionable amount to effectively keep the large man unconscious.
They immediately cuffed and manacled him, blindfolded him, and only then did Peyton finally realize who he was.
“Holy fuck!”
“You know him?”the guy asked.
He nodded.“I’m positive it’s Callum.”
Peyton stepped into the corridor so two others could move inside and securely strap Callum to a backboard to transport him.Peyton followed and realized they hadn’t yet taken the woman upstairs who’d been in the cell across from him.
“Hold up,” Peyton called, jogging over.
He looked at her and grimly nodded.“That’s why he went batshit.That’s Bryn, his mate.Makesureyou keep her next to him at all times.If he awakens mid-flight, make sure she’s awakened immediately, and that they know they’re together.”
“Let’s make sure hestaysasleep,” one of the med techs said.“I damned sure don’t want to deal with that mid-flight at twenty-thousand feet.”
They’d brought three box trucks as part of their fleet, and that’s where they started loading the rescued hostages.
One of the Primes, who was helping transfer the rescued, returned laughing and found Peyton.“They’re all dead up top.”
