“He owned The Hug Project,” I explain to Pack Mayor. “Maybe he’s pissed at Clara? I don’t get it either.”
“It sounds like a little kidnapping is in order so we can get some answers,” Silas says smoothly, texting someone.
They’re just as crooked as we are, they simply hide it better, which is saying something.
“Try to get some sleep tonight,” Easton says, glancing at Silas who nods at something he’s seeing on the screen of his phone. “You’re spread thin. We’ll send someone for Winchell and put him on ice for you. It’s why we have the warehouse, after all.”
I chuckle under my breath as I nod.
“Shi, want to see a man about some bombs with me?” I ask, enjoying the feral nod he gives me as he shuts his computer.
“I’ll keep working on hacking into this room. I hate when I’m told I can’t go somewhere. It makes me want to break in even more,” he complains. “It’s possible there’s nothing to it, and that pisses me off too.”
“It’s like an itch you can’t scratch,” Easton agrees.
I’m full of sugar and energy. I’ll need a run after meeting up with my bomb guy.
Me
How much boom juice do you think you can get me?
What? I can't say the word ‘bomb’ in a text, especially when buying them.
Harold
Enough. Meet in twenty at the usual spot?
Me
Give me an extra five and I’ll be good.
“Gotta roll, Shiloh,” I say, pocketing my phone. “Our guy is not patient.”
“None of us are,” Lyle says, standing as he walks Shiloh and I to the door. “Always follow your gut, Ansel. You know it doesn’t steer you wrong.”
“I know,” I admit, saying goodbye as I walk to the extra truck we keep but rarely use. Shiloh climbs into the front seat, while I jog to the passenger side, ready to give him the address.
Hold on. We’re coming. Just…hang in there for me. Please.
Chapter
Thirty-Three
BELLAMY
I’m exhausted.My soul hurts, and my lungs feel as if they can’t get enough air. I’ve been in a constant state of pain and panic since I first woke up in this hell hole.
I never knew that six days could feel so long. The alpha bark lasted for three days due to the intent behind it, and because Cassidy was kept gagged, she couldn’t release us of it.
Blindness is its own gift and curse in a way, because while we were saved from watching Cassidy being raped for hours, Winter and I couldn’t prepare for all the horrors that happened to us during it.
Drowning, caning, Screamo music for hours when we prayed for sleep, all of it happened while we were blind. We were thrown into the cages and someone would hit the side of it while the music blared to scare us, or someone would use the misdirection to press the electrical probe against our skin to make us scream. There was never any way to anticipate it.
Still, I’m not blaming Cassidy for any of it. I believe she had a harder time in all of this. Hearing what the men did to her overand over while Avery mocked her is going to haunt me for the rest of my life, however short that is.
Blinking at Madam Clara and Avery as Cass, Winter and I hang from our captors’ arms, I wait to hear what they have to say to us. We’ve been force fed the minimum to stay alive, and water has been forced into our mouths with metal tubes, much like they offer hamsters fluids in their cages. Whereas hamsters have the dignity to suck on their water bottles, we haven’t had that option. Instead, we gagged on the water while being told to swallow it.
Cassidy’s gag has been replaced with a large ball gag, which continues to keep her from speaking as she glares at Clara and Avery. The gag has to hurt, because I’d swear it’s as big as an alpha’s knot.
