Thornhill

Eve hesitated, then shrugged. “He’s right. No matter what’s going on, the others are counting on us to hit the vault.” She headed after him.

I glanced at Jason. “We haven’t so much as seen a guard. Don’t you think that’s a little strange?”

He scanned the area around the dorm and frowned. He didn’t tell me I was wrong. “C’mon,” he said, after a moment. “If something is going on, we should stick close to the wolves.”

Knowing he was probably right and unsure what else we could do, I followed him around the building.

Eve and the other wolf had already darted over an expanse of grass and were waiting in the shadowy gulf between two classrooms.

No sooner had Jason and I taken a step toward them than a voice split the night. “Stay where you are!”

I whirled. Two guards were racing toward us, their Tasers drawn.

They slowed to a walk when they were still a few feet away. One pulled a radio from his belt. “We’ve got a couple more stragglers near the dorms.”

Wherever Hank’s team was, it was safe to say they hadn’t taken out the communications system yet.

I glanced over at the classrooms. Eve and the other wolf had disappeared. I couldn’t blame them. There wasn’t anything they could do. The guards had already radioed in. Knocking them out and running would just alert the rest of the camp to the fact that something was going on.

Next to me, Jason kept his head down and his eyes on the ground, trying to give the guards as little opportunity to recognize him as possible.

“Auditorium,” snapped the one with the radio. “Now.”

I saw Jason’s fingers twitch out of the corner of my eye. I held my breath, praying he wouldn’t do something stupid like go for the gun at his back.

I shouldn’t have worried.

Jason was reckless, but smart. The guards hadn’t hurt or threatened us. He left the gun where it was and started walking.

Stomach in knots, I fell into step next to him. First the trouble at the fence and now this—I fought back the thought that our plan had been cursed from the start.

The guards walked behind us. Neither holstered their Taser.

Why the auditorium? I wanted to ask, but I didn’t want to say or do anything that would make the guards suspicious.

I tugged my sleeves down as far as they would go, making sure my wrists were completely covered. The last thing I needed was for either guard to realize I wasn’t wearing a wrist cuff.

Amy’s bracelet, though hidden, was a reassuring weight. As long as you keep it on, I’ll know where you are. Hank’s words echoed back to me.

The irony of counting on my father after warning Eve not to do the same was not lost on me.

We rounded a bend in the path and the auditorium came into view.

I stopped so suddenly that Jason’s shoulder collided with mine.

I barely noticed. I was too busy trying to make sense of the scene in front of us.

Large spotlights blazed on each corner of the roof; they flooded the immediate area with light, obliterating any shadows someone might use to hide—but that wasn’t the bad part.

A circle of guards—what looked like almost every guard in Thornhill—surrounded the auditorium like a living net. They faced the building, their backs to the camp and their weapons drawn. A few held Tasers but most held guns.

All of the air rushed out of my lungs with a single thought: Sinclair knows we’re here.

I didn’t know how—maybe someone had gone to investigate the fence and slipped past Hank’s wolves—but why else would she gather every guard in one place?

One of the men behind us cleared his throat as a guard with a shaved head and a ridiculously thick neck strode up the path. “These are the two we found near the dorms.”

The bald guard turned his gaze on us. My heart thudded in my chest as I waited for him to realize we were part of the group who had infiltrated the camp. Any second, he would give the order for us to be dragged to the detention block in shackles.

“Dorms?”

“Seven and four,” I said, struggling to keep my voice blank.

He glanced at the men behind us. “We’ve got reports of a few more kids hiding in that old greenhouse. A couple of guards are already on their way, but they could probably use some help.” He shifted his focus back to Jason and me. “You two, inside.”

He didn’t know who we were. Something inside my chest unclenched a fraction of an inch. Even if they knew a group had breached the fence, they didn’t know we were part of it.

Jason tugged on my hand, urging me forward.

There were two guards covering the entrance to the auditorium. One stepped aside as we approached while the other pulled open the door.

I slipped my hand out of Jason’s: If there was trouble, I wanted him to have both hands free for the gun.

“Out of the frying pan,” I muttered.

“And straight into hell,” he finished.

The smell of sweat and an almost claustrophobic sense of mass hit me as I crossed the threshold. The number of wolves crammed inside the auditorium far exceeded the benches. Some sat in the aisles, others crouched between rows.

I glanced to my left and right. There were five guards on either side of the door. Unlike the ones outside, their weapons were still holstered—at least for now. Maybe they were worried about tipping a room full of anxious wolves from fear to panic.

And the wolves were frightened. It showed in the eyes of the ones who watched the guards and in the small noises some of them made as they cried. It was in the way most of them held themselves too still—as though they expected someone to strike or shoot them at any moment.

They’re too scared to do anything; they’re the perfect hostages. The thought was ice water dripping down my spine. What if Sinclair had been told about the planned breakout? Maybe there was a mole in Hank’s pack who had tipped her off. Maybe she had gathered the wolves as collateral.

My eyes slid to the front of the room. The same black-and-white posters covered the wall—CONTROL OVER ANGER, CONSTRAINT IS FREEDOM, YOUR DISEASE IS NOT A WEAPON—but the podium and folding chairs had been replaced by a small platform that looked as though it had been hastily nailed together. On it stood two program coordinators and the warden, their backs to the assembly as they discussed something in low tones.

Jason clamped his hand around my arm. “Don’t do anything,” he hissed as he pulled me toward the nearest aisle.

“Why?” I asked as I sank to the floor next to him. “What would I do?” As much as I wanted to strangle Sinclair, it wasn’t like I was going to rush the stage. Not with ten guards in the room and more waiting outside.

Jason didn’t answer and he didn’t relax his hold on my arm; if anything, he tightened his grip.

Two women joined the group onstage. One was Langley, the other was the woman who had injected Serena with some unknown drug or poison in the videos. She adjusted her glasses and gave the crowd of wolves a nervous glance.

An echo of Serena’s voice—shaking as she begged them to stop—filled my head. I thought of the gun hidden at Jason’s back as a wave of anger swelled in my chest, so thick and black that I practically choked on it.

Jason swore under his breath as the group moved to the edge of the dais. Suddenly, I knew why he was gripping my arm, what he must have glimpsed when we first entered the auditorium. It wasn’t Sinclair or even the women who had tortured Serena.

I started to rise, and Jason shifted his hand to my shoulder, forcing me back down while whispering a frantic stream of comfort and caution in my ear.

“You can’t help him. If you draw attention to us, it’ll all be over. It’s okay. They’ll be okay.”

I shook my head and bit the inside of my cheek—bit it so hard I tasted copper—to stop the flood of sounds