I glanced down: the ancient contraption of ladders and platforms looked like a rusted death trap.
“Come on.” Serena started down, moving at a dizzying speed before remembering I was a reg and slowing her pace.
Four stories down should have been easy, but my hands and feet kept slipping on the rungs. The metal let out a nonstop chorus of squeals and groans underneath my weight, competing with the shouts and screams coming from inside the building.
Just as we passed the second floor, a heavy, masculine voice crashed over us. “Come down slowly.”
Serena froze.
Heart in throat, I peered around her to the ground below.
Three Trackers had gathered around the bottom of the fire escape. For a second, I considered going back up, but then I realized that one of the men held a rifle. As I watched, he trained it on Serena.
There wasn’t any choice. We slowly made our way to the ground. Serena stepped off the ladder, and then held her hands in the air as she moved aside. I followed right on her heels.
Two men with Kevlar vests and Tracker tattoos pulled my arms behind my back and snapped a pair of heavy cuffs around my wrists. A second later, Serena suffered the same fate. One of the men grabbed her a little too roughly and she elbowed him in the ribs.
Gasping, the man reached for the butt of a holstered gun and started to pull it free.
“Kill her and it’s one less head we get paid for,” snapped one of the others before radioing in that they had found two more wolves.
Ash and burning shingles drifted to the ground around us as we were marched to the front of the building. The chain-link fence—which, just a few hours ago, had surrounded the property and made it a fortress—lay flattened on the ground. My sneakers caught on the links as we were herded to a group of wolves—two dozen, maybe more—who waited curbside in cuffs. Black shapes patrolled the edge of the small crowd: Trackers with guns drawn.
From this vantage point, it looked like the building was beyond saving. The fire had spread to the upper two floors and the roof was quickly becoming engulfed in flames.
I whirled as a familiar, smoke-raw voice asked if I was okay. Kyle. There was a burn on his arm and a gash across his chest, but that was nothing to a werewolf; his body would heal the damage in no time. He was all right.
I leaned into him and he pressed his chin to the top of my head. A shudder wracked my body as I pulled in what felt like the first real breath I had taken since he had shoved me into the passage.
After a moment, I pulled away. “Where’s Jason?”
A shadow crossed Kyle’s face. “I don’t know. They saw his tattoo and separated us as soon as we were out of the building.”
My stomach lurched. Under normal circumstances, the tattoo on Jason’s neck would keep him safe from the Trackers, but he had been found in the middle of a werewolf club. If he could convince them that he had gone in for some sort of nefarious purpose, he’d be okay. But if they suspected—even for an instant—that he had any werewolf sympathies . . .
A large truck rumbled down the street and came to a jerky stop in front of us. Two Trackers pulled open the doors to the cargo hold and threw down a ramp. It hit the pavement with a clang that seemed to reverberate in my chest.
The crowd shifted as people were herded aboard. I spotted Eve’s red hair a second before she disappeared inside.
Serena was shoved forward, then Kyle, then me.
I tried to stop, to turn and search the milling Trackers for Jason, but another push sent me stumbling up the ramp. As I reached the top, I heard one of the men say a candle had started the blaze.
I slipped on a small pool of blood and fell to my knees just over the threshold. With my hands bound, there was no way for me to break my fall. I bit back a pained gasp. Werewolves didn’t cry over scraped knees, and if the Trackers realized I was a reg, I’d lose my only chance to find out where Kyle and Serena were being taken.
I shimmied away from the edge of the truck and found a space along the wall. There were no benches or seats: it was a truck built for freight, not people.
I looked up.
Jason.
He was trying to push past a Tracker who looked capable of breaking him in two. He was shouting, but the scene was too chaotic and he was too far away for me to catch a single sentence.
His face and clothes were streaked with ash and he looked crazed—as crazed as any wolf with bloodlust— but he was okay. He wasn’t in cuffs and the Trackers hadn’t beaten him to a pulp. He was all right. He would be all right.
His gaze locked on mine. Fierce. Desperate. Determined.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, even though he wouldn’t have believed the words even if he could have heard them. “I promise, it’ll be okay.”
Jason’s eyes were the last thing I saw before the doors slammed shut.
WE HUDDLED IN THE DARK FOR WHAT FELT LIKE HOURS. The combined scent of sweat, fear, and smoke was nauseating. Some people cried and others prayed. Most were too scared to make a sound.
A few wolves managed to get cell phones and iPods out of one another’s pockets. No one could get a signal, but they used the devices as flashlights. The dim electronic glows pierced the dark and somehow made things slightly more bearable.
Very slightly.
“We’re going to die.” The voice was young and male and it cracked around the edges.
“We are, aren’t we?” No one answered and the silence seemed to push him over some invisible line. “
He climbed shakily to his feet and began to pace. Back and forth. In and out of thin bars of light.
His steps carried him a little too close, and I could feel Kyle and Serena tense on either side of me.
There wasn’t enough light to see clearly, but I could hear the cracking and popping of bones and muscle as fear frayed the boy’s control. The cuffs were heavy, but I wasn’t sure if they would hold during a shift.
My heart tried to break free of my rib cage as I strained against my cuffs to reach Kyle’s hand.
Another figure stood. It took me a moment to recognize Eve in the semidark. “Bastian . . .”
The boy ignored her.
Swaying with the motion of the truck, she moved forward and blocked his path. “Bastian, listen to me.” Her voice was firm. Commanding. “We are not going to die.”
He started to object and she cut him off. “
I held my breath. After a small eternity, the boy shuffled over to the wall and slid to the ground.
Next to me, Serena exhaled in a soft rush.
“We’ll be okay.” Eve turned in a slow circle as she addressed the wolves. “Curtis will think of something. The pack will come after us. We just have to stay calm until then.”
Only exhaustion and fear kept me from laughing.
No one was coming after us. Least of all my father.
I stared at Eve and wondered, again, who she was and how she was connected to Hank.
The truck hit a patch of rough road and Serena choked back a sob. Her eyes glinted and I realized she was crying. The only other time I’d seen Serena cry had been the night a group of Trackers had gone after her and her brother.
“I’m so sorry.” The whispered words weren’t enough. I had asked Serena to come to Denver. I was the
