her situation, or of Bennett.
Before he could shout a warning, Bennett took the cap off the water bottle and held it to Jackie’s lips. She took three long drinks.
“Jackie!” Jones shouted. “Don’t! He’s—”
DeWinter’s eyes closed slowly and she once again fell unconscious. The smelling salts couldn’t compete with whatever drug had been used to sedate her.
Jones’s lips quivered. All he could do was stare.
“Don’t worry, Grandpa,” Bennett said, carefully capping the bottle. “She’s not dead yet. In fact—” He crouched beside DeWinter and leaned his ear against her belly. He feigned a gasp. “I think our little family is growing!”
Bennett hustled to the fridge and took out another water bottle, this one labeled “active” with black marker. He moved quickly for the door. “Kam.”
The dutiful Kam followed at his heels.
Bennett leaned his head back in the room as he closed the door. He didn’t say anything, he just grinned, looking at all of them with frantic energy. Then he was gone and the door slammed closed, and locked.
While Jones shouted for his daughter, and Blok paced uselessly in his cell, Hawkins began an awkward dance, reaching for his side and spinning in circles.
“Ranger?” Bray said, sounding concerned.
Hawkins stopped spinning and pushed his hip against the bars separating his cell from Bray’s. “Get my knife!”
“Your knife is gone,” Bray said.
“My knife was broken,” Hawkins explained. “Just the blade is in there. Kam knew about it. His speech about the weapons was a message.”
Bray’s eyes widened and he fumbled with his bound hands to unbutton the sheath holding the razor-sharp blade.
About the time the button popped free and Bray got his fingers on the knife, DeWinter’s stomach started to bulge.
40.
“Dammit,” Bray said as the blade slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor by Hawkins’s feet.
The knife nearly struck Hawkins’s foot, but he jumped away in time to avoid being impaled. He picked the knife up and sat on the floor with his back to the cell bars.
Jones saw what they were doing. “Hurry up! Get me out of here!”
Hawkins ignored the man’s pleas. He knew Jones just wanted to get to his daughter, but the real ticking clock was however long it took Bennett to reach whatever room received the camera feeds. Could be a few minutes, or maybe right next door. Bennett could be watching them right now.
Hawkins placed the blade between his feet with the dull side against the floor and the sharp side facing up. He positioned his wrists to either side of the blade and brought them down fast. The plastic cuffs came apart with one smooth cut. A moment later, Hawkins was on his feet and opening his cell. He moved to Bray’s cell next, unlatching the door.
“Get me next!” Jones shouted. “Hawkins! Let me out!”
Hawkins focused on Bray. It was a tactical decision. Hawkins knew the big man would fight if Bennett returned. But Jones was going to be all but useless with his daughter undergoing some kind of transformation. He could hear her starting to groan. Whatever was happening inside her belly, it wasn’t good—for her, or for them. Hawkins felt sure that Bennett would be watching by now and that he wasn’t returning meant he believed they still weren’t a threat. He cut through Bray’s bindings and hurried to Jones’s cell.
As he unlocked the cell door, Hawkins glanced at Blok. The man stared past Hawkins, watching DeWinter. His face slowly contorted into a mask of fear. Hawkins realized that Blok and Jones had been taken from the
Jones shook his bound wrists at Hawkins as the cell door slid open. “C’mon!”
Hawkins cut the plastic cuffs. “Jones, listen. You need to—”
Jones shoved Hawkins aside and ran to DeWinter. Hawkins didn’t watch. He moved to Blok’s cell and unlocked the door. Blok’s stare remained unflinching.
“Blok,” Hawkins said. “Blok!”
The man snapped out of his daze. Hawkins held the blade out and Blok seemed to register for the first time that they were breaking out. He held up his wrists and Hawkins set him free. “Thanks.”
Hawkins nodded, but didn’t say a word. If Blok knew the kind of hell they’d soon be facing, he might have opted to remain a prisoner.
“Ranger,” Bray said as Hawkins turned around. He handed the machete and captive bolt stunner to Hawkins. “At least he left us with an arsenal.”
Hawkins looked at the pegboard holding an array of surgical tools. Bray had taken a knife that looked like a long fish filleting blade and a frightening thick-toothed bone saw. Hawkins was satisfied with the machete and attached it to his belt before motioning to the tools. “Blok, grab something to use as a weapon.”
“Are we going to have to kill something?” Blok asked with a shaky voice.
Jones’s desperate voice filled the room. “What’s happening to her!”
“Probably,” Hawkins said and then turned to DeWinter for the first time since escaping his cell. Jones leaned over her, blocking most of his view, but what little he could see of her belly was severely distended.
And moving.
He stepped closer and got a better look. Her whole body twitched and her light brown skin looked washed- out. “Harry,” he said, his tone half-apologetic, half-warning.
Hawkins placed a hand on Jones’s shoulder and tried to pull him back, but the man shrugged away. “No!”
Bray stepped over and put his fingers on her neck, searching for a pulse. “Jones, she’s gone.”
“She’s still moving!” Jones said, clinging to DeWinter’s shoulders.
“That’s not her,” Hawkins said, stepping back. The convulsions grew more violent. “It’s what’s inside her.”
“Shut up!” Jones screamed, waving them all back. “She’s my daughter.”
Hawkins drew the machete.
Bray stood ready with the bone saw.
Blok backed into his cell, unarmed, and slowly pulled the door closed.
Hawkins raised the machete. He could end this now. It would feel wrong—awful—but he could stop whatever was about to happen with one swing. “Jones, step back.”
“Stay away!” Jones said, eyeing the machete. “Don’t touch her! She’s—”
The convulsions stopped. But DeWinter’s torso was swollen to the point where light-colored stretch marks had streaked across her flesh. Jones moved toward her head, cradling her cheeks in his hands. “Open your eyes, baby. I’m here.”
Her belly shifted in response to Jones’s voice.
“Jones,” Bray whispered. “Back the hell up.”
Jones clenched his eyes shut, squeezing tears onto his face. “Bray, I swear to God, if you—”
Hawkins had only just registered the tearing sound when an explosion of movement burst from DeWinter’s
