When the gates swing closed and the brothers chain them shut, Jinx turns and runs into the clubhouse. I’m grabbing my clothes when I hear his feet pounding along the corridor as he comes to our room. He bursts through the door.
“We need to get you down to the safe room.” I pull on my jeans, shirt, cut and shoes. For some reason, he grabs a throw and wraps it around my shoulders before leading me out of the room.
“Queenie and Tessa are already in the safe room, and others will be very soon. You don’t need to do anything other than get yourself there.” He places his hand flat against my stomach and adds, “Stay there. Stay safe until I come for you.”
“Okay,” I say. “I know the priority is keeping our baby safe.”
He takes my face in both hands and kisses me.
“Stay safe, both of you. I’ll come get you myself when this is done. Don’t open that door unless you recognize the voice.”
I make it to the safe room to find Silver and Tessa at the door pulling people in, while Queenie sits in a chair with a shotgun across her knees. I can tell by the look in her eyes that this isn’t her first rodeo.
“Sit,” she says, gesturing to a loveseat across from where she’s sitting. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. The doctor said I was healthy. But it’s the stress that’s getting to me. I wish my father would leave me the hell alone.”
“Dr. Marsh is the best in the area, darlin’. If she said you’re good, then you are.”
Before I can respond, the electricity goes out. We’re sitting there in the dark for a couple of minutes, enough for the kids to start crying when the generator kicks in. Within moments the generator dies too and we’re plunged into darkness that doesn’t seem like it’s going to let up.
The women with children pull them into their laps and rock them. Tessa lights some candles. All we can do is sit there and listen to the sounds coming from upstairs and outside.
I jump when I hear gunfire from somewhere outside. Queenie’s hand comes out to cover mine. I grip it tightly for a minute before letting go, embarrassed by my jumpiness. The gunfire seems to go on for a while. Then we hear boots overhead, stomping and running at a fast pace. Glass shatters and the sound makes me think it was a window. We can hear muffled voices shouting.
Then Striker’s voice calls out, shouting about the cameras. He seems to be warning them of something, but I don’t understand quite what.
“They’re inside the building,” Silver whispers in a panicked tone.
Queenie hisses, “Quiet, Silver.”
They are two women who have been forced to take shelter in this room before. I can tell because a knowing look passesbetween them. If anything, it gives me hope that we might get out of this alive.
A few minutes later, Queenie’s head comes up and she breathes deeply. “Do you smell that?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper.
I can smell it. It was a strong chemical scent, one I recognize all too well. “The Hyenas are flushing the building,” I tell them, my voice flat and wooden. “It’s what they do when they want what’s inside, but they don’t want to risk going in and getting it.” It’s one of my father’s oldest and best tricks. “I don’t know what he uses. It’s not toxic, just really nasty. Breathing that can’t be healthy,” I say.
My eyes are stinging and I’m trying not to retch, but even without the pregnancy hormones I’d be struggling. “I need to get out.”
“We’re all staying together, Nora. We don’t sacrifice anyone.” She walks to the door and calls out,
“Garret! What’s going on? Talk to us.”
“They put something in the ventilation. Jinx and Slate are trying to flush it out. Make for the back stairs!” he says, unlocking the door while coughing. “Whatever they’re using is getting thicker. Go now. I’ll cover you.”
Queenie leads the way. I don’t even know where the back stairs lead. I’ve never used that part of the building. I’m following Queenie, operating on blind trust.
Another prospect stumbles into view and motions for us to come. Queenie rushes towards him, so the rest of us do too. My eyes water up. I’ve heard stories about this stuff. It’s a highlypotent form of tear gas. The kids are crying because it stings their eyes. This whole situation reminds me of what a degenerate my father is.
Four Hyenas come down out of the smoky corridor, like something out of a nightmare. They’re wearing gas masks to protect themselves from what they’re forcing us to breathe.
Garret doesn’t hesitate. He surges forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with the other prospect. They pull out handguns so fast that I don’t realize they have weapons until they start shooting. The Hyenas scatter and then regroup, immediately taking down the two prospects. With it being four against two, it wasn’t really a fight.
The first prospect goes down fast but Garret fights dirty, like a man with a debt to pay. He’s feral, hitting, screaming, clawing and going for their weapons after they took his. When they club him with the butt of a rifle, I scream, “Enough!”
We don’t stand a chance against them but several of the women without children at their sides surge forward. One of them brings up his shotgun, hard and fast, forcing them to rethink the idea of swarming them.
Before I know what hit me, someone jumps me from behind forcing the other women to scatter. A hand clamps over my mouth, and an arm circles around my chest like an iron bar, wrenching me backward off my feet. I fight but I recognize the scent of the man holding me. It’s my brother, Brave. Typical of my father to send him to do his dirty work. I throw an elbow back right into his face.
