“I need a doctor.”
“Three.”
“Please don’t…”
“Four.”
His eyes went wide as I shifted the gun up to the center of his face.
“F—”
“The train station!” he screamed before he rolled and gagged again, heaving up more bile in his terror. I couldn’t tell if he’d pissed himself through the blood soaking beneath him, and I didn’t really care.
“The train station?”
“Morris set up a base there. He?—”
“Five.”
The sound of the gun going off again was probably a little premature, but I couldn’t help it. I should have tortured more information out of him, maybe figured out how many people were at the station, how many weapons Morris had. I didn’t know if it was him and a squad or the entire fucking Order.
I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. Morris was taking Phoenix to the fucking train station… to the same place Bishop had died.
It was like some fucked-up destiny that everything always came down to that place. If I fucking got him out, I was burning it to the ground.
I thoughtabout going after them alone, but I knew I couldn’t do it. If it was just me, I would have risked it. If it was my life on the line, I would have happily put it there without dragging anyone else into it.
But it wasn’t just me.
It was Phoenix, and he had a family.
Fuck. They were my family too. By the time I got back toour camp, I was breathless and half expecting them to be swarmed by the Order.
Thereweretwo dead men on the ground, and Blythe had already gutted and started processing them like they were nothing more than a cut of meat. For the first time, I didn’tcarethat she was prepping a person to be cooked.
I knew their faces—I knew their names.
I knew that they’d helped take Phoenix.
“Look at this, Aubrey. We have enough to share. Maybe if we get Phoenix full before you talk he won’t…” She trailed off when she saw me, wiping the knife she’d been using on her pants as she started forward. “What happened?” But I could see it on her face, in her eyes.
She already knew what I was about to say.
“They took Phoenix.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
PHOENIX
I woke strapped to a table,and my instant reaction was to pull on the restraints. Rope burned against my wrists.
Rope.
I could work with rope.
My head was fucking killing me, though, and I felt a little dizzy. Looking around told me I was currently in the room alone—it looked like some maintenance room where they’d dragged in a metal table and a chair. Hanging on the doorknob were my dog tags.
