With any luck, they’d find Tanner and the others down on this level, and it would be a simple matter of evacuating them back out through the tunnels. Then they’d call the cops and be done with it.
The part of the plan that had him worried the most was communications. They’d known their radio headsets probably wouldn’t work in the deeper parts of the mine, but everyone hoped the reception would improve once the teams got closer to each other. If it didn’t, Danica’s team wouldn’t know when to fall back. Worse, Tate wouldn’t know if Danica’s team got into trouble. Maybe they’d get lucky and the damn radios would work the way they were supposed to.
Tate was still thinking about what they’d do if the radios didn’t work when he realized Diaz had come to a standstill up ahead of him. Tate noticed the tunnel wasn’t as dark as it had been only minutes ago. He flicked off his light, and the rest of the team behind him did the same, dumping him into pitch-black for about thirty seconds until his eyes adjusted.
He moved closer to Diaz, who was testing the air with his nose, his eyes glowing yellow-green in the darkness. “What do you got?”
“I smell Tanner,” the coyote shifter said. “But I smell blood and smokeless powder, too. Someone has been shot down here recently.”
Tate’s heart thudded. “Tanner?”
Diaz shook his head as he started moving slowly along the tunnel again, keeping close to the wall. “No way to tell yet. The air currents are doing strange things to the scents down here. But we’re close. That much I’m sure of.”
A minute later, Diaz led them out of the narrow tunnel they’d been moving through into a much broader and cleaner corridor lit with a series of bright fluorescent bulbs hanging every few feet.
Tate glanced at the stairs at the end of the corridor that led up. He didn’t have a shifter’s ears, but even he could hear the near constant throb of sound coming from that direction. It sounded like he was in the basement of a football stadium during a game. Maybe he was hearing people partying in the club two levels up. Would have been nice to have sent someone to the club to give them a heads up about what was going on up there, but they didn’t have enough people in their rescue party for that.
He opened his mouth to ask Diaz if he was right about the noise, but the Special Forces soldier was already heading down the corridor to the right and the door down there.
Tate and the others quickly spread out around Diaz. Tate was glad to see that Burt and Chad seemed to know what the hell they were doing with their weapons. At least they had them pointed in a safe direction.
Malcolm, on the other hand, had him a little worried. The guy’s eyes were starting to pulse with that familiar red hybrid glow, and the tips of his frigging fangs were showing.
“Bryce is in there,” Malcolm said, as if feeling Tate’s eyes on him. “It’s his blood we’re smelling.”
Tate glanced at Diaz. The coyote shifter nodded. “Definitely hybrid blood. There are other people in there, too. Maybe half a dozen. Tanner was there at some point, but I don’t think he is now.”
Shit.
Tate tried to get Danica on the radio to let them know what the hell was happening down there, but all he got was static. He cursed again. They didn’t have time for this. One of the captives was hurt, maybe more than one. They had to move. Now.
He motioned Diaz in through the door first and to the right, then gestured for Chase to go in next and to the left. Tate would take the middle of the room while the others stayed out in the corridor. He simply didn’t trust Chad and his people in a close-quarter combat situation, especially with hostages in there.
Everyone nodded, though Malcolm still worried Tate. The hybrid was getting visibly agitated by the second. The scent of blood must be getting to him.
Tate counted down from three with his fingers then motioned Diaz to go. The shifter reared back and kicked the heavy door off its hinges like it was made of paper, then disappeared inside. Chase followed.
Tate charged in next to see a scene out of some kind of horror movie. Six people huddled together on the floor, all of them showing signs of abuse. One of the men was curled into a ball, clutching his stomach as blood seeped from between his fingers.
A big man stood in the center of the room, his weapon pointed at the captives, but he spun at their entrance, the gun in his hand turning their way.
Diaz, Chase, and Tate fired at the same time, hitting the man before he could squeeze the trigger. The ear-splitting noise of three automatic rifles going off in the tight confines of the small space was deafening, and Tate whirled around, expecting the rest of the bad guys who had to be down there to rush in. There was no way they’d leave one guard down here to cover all these prisoners. But apparently, that was exactly what they’d done, since no one showed up.
That didn’t mean people wouldn’t come running down the steps at any moment. He needed to see how badly the captives were hurt and get them out of there. If anyone headed this way, Danica and her team would deal with it.
“The keys for the manacles are outside the door,” the youngest of the prisoners said.
Chad ran to grab the keys, then hurried back into the room. As he hurriedly unlocked the manacles, he asked if anyone knew where Lillie was, but no one did.
Tate didn’t
