Thornhill

Kyle stood completely motionless, eyes locked on me, as his wrists were bound. The muscles in his forearms and jaw tensed, but he didn’t object or resist.

I was sure Sinclair wasn’t a woman who responded to begging, but I still tried as I was wrenched past her. “Please don’t hurt him. Please.”

For a split second, I could have sworn I saw pity in her eyes, but Tanner forced me out of the cell before I could be sure.

The iron grip Tanner kept on my arm left me no choice but to stumble along at his side. He didn’t speak or look at me as he dragged me down the corridor and into the detention block.

I tried to dig my heels in as we passed Serena’s cell, but he just kept pulling me forward until we reached the stairwell to the upper levels. As he shifted his hold to open the door, I managed to twist and look back.

Kyle had been led into the detention block. Guards unlocked one of the empty cells and ordered him inside.

My breath hitched in my throat as he turned to look at me. The rest of the corridor fell away and all I could see were his eyes. He stared at me the way I stared at photographs of Amy—like he was trying to memorize every detail before they faded. Like I was someone he had lost.

I opened my mouth to say his name, but before I could, I was forced into the stairwell. Just before the door slammed shut behind me, I thought I heard Kyle say he was sorry.

The journey through the rest of the sanatorium was a blur. Even Tanner’s grip became a distant pressure as my mind raced.

I had to find a way back to Kyle. A few days in the detention block had stripped Serena of all but a shred of her humanity. I couldn’t let the same thing happen to him.

I wouldn’t let it happen.

We rounded a corner and the doors to the courtyard loomed ahead.

“No.” I shook my head and stumbled. This wasn’t right. Sinclair wouldn’t let me go—not with everything I had seen—and she wouldn’t throw me back in with the rest of Thornhill’s population.

The graveyard. Every muscle in my body tensed as Tanner forced me through the doors and out of the building. He was going to take me to the middle of the woods where I would never be able to cause trouble again.

Whatever conclusions Kyle had drawn in the cell—whatever he had heard that made him think I’d be safe if I didn’t resist—had been wrong. He’d gone to the detention block without a fight and it had all been for nothing.

I blinked in the morning light. Remnants of dawn still streaked the sky and a faint breeze rustled the ivy on the sanatorium walls. It was going to be a beautiful day—not that I would live to see it.

Pain split me like a knife. I’ll never know, I thought. Kyle, Serena, Jason—I’ll never know what happened to them. Tears filled my eyes and I furiously blinked them back. For all I knew, the warden was watching from somewhere inside; I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of thinking she had broken me.

“Are you all right?”

The familiar voice filled me with dread as Tanner yanked me to a stop.

I turned to Jason. His face was pale and drawn. There were dark shadows under his eyes and a collar of bruises around his neck. Gone was the tan counselor’s uniform and in its place were designer jeans and a wrinkled polo shirt. His tattoo was completely visible, the black ink stark against his skin.

Pressure built inside my chest. Twenty seconds ago, I had been convinced I would never see Jason again, but that was preferable to seeing him here. My gaze slid to the two men in blue standing on either side of him.

Three guards to dispatch of two teenage regs.

Jason’s gaze swept my face. He frowned. “Unhurt. That was one of the conditions.”

Tanner shrugged. “It’s just a bruise. Feel free to stay and take it up with the warden.”

I raised a hand to my cheek. It was still tender where Sinclair had hit me. My eyes darted from Jason to Tanner and then back as I wondered what the hell was going on.

Before I could ask, a grinding noise—a thousand times worse than nails on a chalkboard—filled the air. The gates leading out of the camp rolled open and a black Lincoln Town Car drove through. It pulled a U-turn in the courtyard and then came to a smooth stop forty feet away.

Tanner shifted his grip to my forearm as he pulled a strange clamplike device from his pocket.

Instinctively, I flinched.

“Relax.” He slipped the device over my wrist cuff and rotated it ninety degrees. The cuff sprang open with a click and Tanner slid it off. Only then did I think of my contraband bracelet.

A curious expression crossed his face as his eyes roamed over the coins. His gaze seemed to linger a fraction longer on Hank’s charm, but he stepped away without comment.

Two men climbed out of the car. The driver was pudgy and balding while the man who stepped out of the passenger side had thick dark hair and a runner’s build. Both carried guns in shoulder holsters and each had a black dagger tattooed on his neck. I had spent enough of my childhood around violent men to read body language; these two were career bad guys.

My gaze darted to Jason. He didn’t look surprised to see the Trackers. If anything, he looked . . . relieved?

He met my stare with a dark expression I couldn’t fathom as he strode to my side and took my arm. The guards didn’t stop him.

What had he done?

His grip just shy of painful, Jason herded me to the car.

“What did you do?” I choked out the words as panic clawed at my throat. We couldn’t leave. Sinclair had Serena and Dex. She had Kyle. She was going to put him in a room with a digital clock. They would break every bone in his body while cameras rolled, and when it was over, he’d be like Serena—barely reachable.

One of the Trackers pulled open the back door of the car.

“Get in,” snapped Jason, momentarily letting go of my arm.

“What? No!” I shook my head and retreated a step.

“Get in, Mackenzie.” Jason’s voice was cold and dismissive. Almost unrecognizable. In three years, I couldn’t remember him ever using my full name.

I started to take another step back, but he was too fast. Before I knew it, I had been forced into the Town Car and the door was slamming shut.

It was a car for the wealthy and powerful—all-leather interior with a sheet of dark glass dividing the back from the front—but the details barely registered as I grabbed the door handle. Locked.

Jason slid into the other side of the car.

Desperate, I threw myself across his lap, scrambling for his door before he could haul it shut.

Too late.

He grabbed my wrists and pushed me back. “Sinclair knows you’re a reg,” he hissed. “What do you think you can do for them by staying?”

Tears—hot and angry—filled my eyes and distorted Jason’s face as I struggled against him. Even as some part of me knew he had a point, my fear for Kyle and Serena left me wild. Almost rabid.

He used his body to pin me to the seat. For a second, I had a flashback that it was Ben on top of me, forcing me to the floor in his bedroom.

My knee connected with Jason’s leg just below the groin. He let out a strangled groan but didn’t relax his hold.

I didn’t want him touching me. I didn’t want him touching me ever again. “Get off of me,” I snarled. I sounded crazed. Infected. “Don’t touch me.”

“Not until you calm down.”

“You had no right—”

Jason cut me off. “I promised Kyle.”

I froze. “Promised Kyle what?”