“He would, and he has,” John agreed. “Most of these people are victims of the research programs Thorn has funded all around the world. Unfortunately, he’s not the only Committee member involved in this.”
“Brannon and Danes?” Braden asked, having a hard time believing that two people currently in Congress would be involved in something like this.
John nodded. “To a lesser degree than Thorn, but yes, they’re involved. It’s why Ivy and Landon went to Maine in the first place. To check into a possible new hybrid research lab that Thorn found. A lab probably being funded by Brannon or Danes.”
Braden narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute. Ivy and Landon were investigating a labforThorn?”
“It would take hours to explain everything to you and Dreya, but suffice it to say, Ivy and Landon have done more to stop these hybrid labs than anyone,” John said. “They’ve also been able to insert themselves into Thorn’s inner circle in the hopes of getting enough evidence to send him to jail for a long, long time. Thorn wanted them to go up to the Stillwater facility in Old Town to see if they could find any useful research he’d be able to use to jump-start his own hybrid efforts. Unfortunately, it seems that Frasier followed them and may have exposed the fact that they’ve been playing Thorn all along.”
Dreya leaned forward. “Do you think Frasier is going to try and kill Ivy and Landon like he did Rory?”
John nodded. “That and more. Trevor is in danger, too, as well as a teenage girl who seems to be in the psychiatric facility for no other reason than because the people watching over her family’s estate won’t be in control of the money if she ever gets out. If the situation weren’t complicated enough, there’s also a hybrid who recently escaped from the facility and is now running around the woods of Old Town.”
Dreya looked horrified. “You expect us to hunt down and kill a hybrid?”
“No. I expect you to earn his trust and save his life,” John told her. “There will likely come a time when you run into hybrids so wild that you have no choice but to kill them, but that isn’t the case here. If what Ivy says is true, the hybrid is staying in the area because he’s concerned about the girl I told you about. Any hybrid willing to risk his life for another person is worth saving, as you’ll learn when you get a chance to meet the other hybrids that we have here at the DCO.”
Braden could tell that Dreya wanted to ask more questions—so did he, for that matter—but John was already looking at his watch. “There aren’t very many people in this organization I can trust on a mission like this. I would have sent Clayne and Danica, but they left this morning with my only other trusted team to investigate a string of brutal murders in Chile that might involve a trio of rogue shifters. There isn’t anyone else I can send.”
“What about Lucy?” Dreya asked.
John shook his head. “I trust her, but this isn’t her kind of work.”
Well, that was cryptic as hell. Braden waited for John to elaborate, but instead, he looked at them expectantly.
“What’s it going to be?” he asked.
Braden exchanged looks with Dreya. If this wasn’t Lucy’s kind of work, Braden doubted it was Dreya’s either, but he could tell from the look on her face that she’d already decided to go and had assumed he would go with her.
Well, it was his fault for falling in love with such a tough, stubborn, tenacious woman.
“We’ll do it,” Braden told John, praying to God he didn’t regret this.
John scooped all the pictures into the folder and handed it to them. “There’s a car waiting outside the door. It will take you to the airport where a private charter will fly you straight to Bangor. You’ll be there in less than an hour and a half after takeoff. A vehicle will be waiting for you on the ground with the Stillwater facility loaded in its GPS. It’s a short twenty miles from the airport to the facility. Get in contact with Ivy and Landon as soon as you land. You’ll find all the information on how to do that on the plane, as well as weapons, ammo, and tactical gear. Only take what you’re comfortable using. We haven’t trained you on everything yet, so if you don’t know how to use it, don’t bother with it. Braden, trust Dreya’s eyes, nose, and instincts. Dreya, trust Braden to cover your back. This is just like Miami—times a hundred.”
Before John could hurry them out, Dreya stopped him. “Don’t worry. We’ll get Ivy, Landon, and Trevor back here in one piece. The hybrid and his girlfriend, too.”
Braden couldn’t help but be moved by the conviction in her voice and think his earlier concerns about Dreya had been an overreaction. She wasn’t the same woman she’d been. He knew that now.
Chapter 17
Trevor’s head hurt like he’d gone twelve rounds with Mike Tyson, his eyes burned like someone had poured battery acid in them, and his mouth tasted like a yak had taken a dump in it. He squinted at the bright lights overhead and tried to push himself up on his elbows, only to realize he was strapped to a metal exam table with lots of leather and canvas restraints. He flexed his sluggish muscles, straining against his bonds. They creaked but didn’t budge. Apparently, these people had learned something since Ian’s escape.
He supposed that meant he was in the isolation ward. That was good. On the downside, Brooklyn was here, too. He could smell her a few feet away.
He lifted his head and looked around as much as he could but didn’t see her. That must mean she was somewhere behind him. He listened, hoping to pick up her heartbeat, but it was lost in the mix of whoever else was in the room. He couldn’t see them either. From the scents, they were a bewildering combination of shifter, human, and hybrid, all blended together in a way that made them hard to distinguish from one another.
“Brooklyn, can you hear me?” he asked. “Talk to me, Brooklyn.”
No answer.
Dammit.
According to his internal clock, he’d been out for maybe two hours, three at the most. It would still be another hour before Ivy and Landon would realize there was a problem and ride in to save the day. He was on his own until then.
Trevor closed his eyes and tried to sort through all the scents in the room, trying to figure out if Brooklyn was bleeding, but he couldn’t tell. If there was one thing that wasn’t in short supply around here, it was the scent of blood. It was like this place had been used as a slaughterhouse for months. That definitely wasn’t a good sign.
He lifted his head and looked around again, taking in his surroundings this time instead of looking for Brooklyn. The place looked like a medical exam room straight out of a frigging sci-fi movie. The traditional turn of the century construction had been heavily renovated, and now a big set of operating lights hung over the metal surgery bed he was strapped down on. Multiple trays of stainless steel equipment that had way too many sharp, pointy ends on them for his liking ringed the bed. They reminded him of something designed for torture—or maybe a dentist’s office. He could never really tell the difference.
