Betrayed (Wolf Gatherings Book 6) (21 page)

“Okay. We’ll have the appropriate vehicles available.”

“Perfect. Gotta go. Eleven. Heather, I love you.” Marcus spoke so fast, she didn’t have a chance to respond before the line went dead.

She inhaled sharply and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She needed to pull it together. Marcus was safe. He would remain that way. He had to.

Alex worked fast to send a group text, informing everyone of the new plan. When he put the phone back in his pocket, he turned to Heather with a smile. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Relieved.”

“I bet.” He pulled her toward him awkwardly. “I’m not much of a hugger, but you look like you could use one.”

She struggled to keep from crying, especially at his sappy sentiment. “You might change your mind when you meet your mate,” she said when she found her voice and pulled back.

He gave a short tip of his head to one side. “Perhaps. Not betting on it, though.”

Heather rolled her eyes. “Men.”

Alex pulled out his phone again. “Jerard says to pull back and regroup.”

The two of them inched back from their lookout and met up with several other shifters a few yards from the cars where they’d set up a meeting spot earlier in the day.

Jerard was pacing. “What did he say?” he asked before Heather and Alex reached his side.

Alex recanted the details of the brief conversation, and then Jerard made a few calls to ensure they had enough military transport to transfer fifty people, assuming they managed to take everyone alive.

Once arrangements had been made, there was nothing else to do but wait. The letdown from the anticipated attack weighed on everyone, making them antsy to get the operation under way. But they had no choice but to postpone their attack until Marcus let them in the door or time ran out. To do otherwise would be insanity.

Alex encouraged Heather to lie down in the back of the car for a while, and she took his advice, but sleep wouldn’t come. Nerves made her fidgety and restless. Until she had Marcus in her sight, she couldn’t relax.

At ten thirty they made their way back to their spots around the compound. It was very dark. Only the dimmest of lights illuminated the sides of the building, probably to keep anyone who happened along from noticing the secret location.

Alex sat on the ground with his legs crossed, eyeing the compound through special night binoculars.

Heather did the same next to him. As shifters, they could see better than any human, even in the dark, but precision was crucial. No one wanted to make an error or miss a signal if anything should change.

“You and I will wait here when the reserves move in.”

Heather nodded. She didn’t like it, but she couldn’t very well run toward combat with no weapon and no training. Alex had been selected as her babysitter because he too had limited military experience. He worked for The Head Council, not NAR.

Jerard wasn’t going to be fighting, either. As their leader, his life was more important. And even though he’d been trained in combat in his youth, it had been years since he’d held a gun.

The hardest part was going to be waiting on the outside with no idea what was happening on the inside until someone either called, texted, or came out.

•●•

Marcus paced in his room, glancing at his watch every few seconds. He should have been exhausted after sleeping only a few hours two nights in a row, but his adrenaline pumped so hard, he couldn’t sit.

At ten forty-five, he pushed through the door to his room, relieved to find his plan had worked. It had taken some maneuvering throughout the day to collect everything he needed to plot this revolt against his grandfather and everyone under his command. All he could do was hold his breath and pray the details as he envisioned them went off without a hitch.

At lunch, Marcus had conveniently spilled ketchup all down his shirt. Melvin escorted him back to his room, unlocked the door, and then entered ahead of Marcus. While his grandfather had his back to him, Marcus slapped a piece of duct tape over the hole in the door frame. Step one complete.

Taking a deep breath, he made his way silently down the hall. The tape portion of tonight’s entertainment had been his weakest link. With that accomplished, he felt his confidence building. If he hadn’t been able to get out of his room, he could have done nothing else.

Memorizing the location of everything in the building had been no small feat, either. He’d spotted cameras in the halls, so he knew there was some level of surveillance, but he hoped the men monitoring the halls at night paid little attention, considering everyone was supposedly locked in their rooms.

His first stop would be security. Marcus had walked by the room several times with his grandfather, and he’d been immensely glad, too, because it gave him the assurance there were always two men on duty, one inside the room and one in the hall. He’d met the man in the hall, Benson, and had spoken to him briefly. He hoped security hadn’t increased with the night shift.

Either his grandfather was irrationally confident about his secret location, or the man was a fool. Marcus would bet money on the latter.

The second item Marcus swiped earlier in the day had been the phone he’d used to call out. That feat had been simple. There were half a dozen flip phones lying in a random corner of Melvin’s office, presumably for anyone leaving the compound to use. No one inside the compound had a phone on them. There were internal phones for necessary contact, but undoubtedly good old Granddad didn’t want anyone to be able to call out.

With almost no difficulty, Marcus had slid one of those phones off the counter behind him and stuffed it in his pocket while Melvin was making his way behind the desk. Thank God the man moved rather slowly. It had worked in Marcus’s favor time and again.

Marcus patted the phone in his pocket once more as he made his way down the dark hall. If all hell broke loose, at least he could call out and warn the others, unless he was incapacitated, or worse. He shook the thought from his head. Dead wasn’t an option. Heather would kill him, he thought with a wry grin.

He paused when he came to the last corner, listening closely for the sound of the night guard at the security room. What he encountered instead were voices. Surprise froze him in his tracks. Someone was talking to the guard. Marcus listened closely, flattening himself against the wall.

He didn’t recognize the voice, but he held his breath when he heard his own name mentioned.

“Cunningham wants you to keep a close eye on his grandson. He doesn’t trust the guy yet.”

“He doesn’t trust his own grandson?” Benson chuckled.

Marcus sucked in a sharp breath.
What the fuck? Dammit
. He glanced at his watch.
Come on. Come on
.

Benson continued to yap with the unknown man for a few minutes, eating away at Marcus’s timeline.

“…’K. I’m turning in for the night. Have a good one,” the man finally said.

“You too,” replied Benson.

Marcus prayed the man would head in the opposite direction, but no such luck. Footsteps grew closer to Marcus by the second. He had no idea how large the man was or what he was doing up this late at night, and he scrambled to come up with a plan. Attempt to explain why he himself was up? Or fight the guy and try to take him out, alerting Benson to the strife in the hall?

Fuck
.

The footsteps grew closer, a nonchalant pace. Marcus righted himself and prayed for a miracle. There was no way he would have the time to fight the man, especially without any notice as to whom he would be up against. He would have to talk his way out of this one.

He guessed he had only a few seconds left as he struggled to come up with an explanation. And then suddenly the man was there, less than two feet from Marcus. He wore green camouflage and was armed for battle. He must have just gotten off a shift outside. But the best part was he had his head dipped down reading something in his hand, and he turned to head down the hallway in a different direction without noticing Marcus.

Marcus didn’t move a single muscle as the soldier ambled down the hall, facing away from Marcus. It took him forever, his pace never increasing. Marcus stared at his back the entire time, thanking God for this small concession in his favor.

Finally, the soldier entered a door on his left and disappeared.

The exhale Marcus released was palpable. He turned his attention toward his goal, wasting no time approaching Benson.

With a deep breath, he put his plan into action, waltzing around the corner as though nothing were out of the ordinary for a man to be out roaming the halls late at night.

“Marcus?” Benson, stood from where he’d been sitting outside the security office door. He looked concerned.

“Grandfather sent me to check on things.”

Benson rolled his eyes, but then furrowed his brow. Obviously Melvin was highhanded with everyone. It wasn’t just Marcus.

The moment Marcus stepped next to the older, dark-haired man, he patted him on the arm. “You know how he can be.”

“Don’t I ever. He’s a good man with excellent intentions and unsurpassed intelligence, but sometimes he definitely overthinks things.”

In this case, my friend, he has severely under thought
. His negligence in overestimating his grandson’s loyalty would cost him everything tonight.

Benson must not have taken to heart what the soldier had just told him. “You’d better get to your quarters. No one is permitted in the halls at night.”

Without hesitating, Marcus leaped at him and wrapped his arm around the older man’s neck in a choke hold, squeezing tight until the guard passed out. Marcus eased him to the floor, swiping the keys hanging halfway out of Benson’s pocket. He grabbed the gun holstered to Benson’s waist next.

Bless him for explaining everything in the security office so thoroughly earlier. All Marcus had had to do was feign interest in the working of their equipment, and the man was a fountain of information, as though no one had ever given him the time of day before that moment.

Marcus unlocked the security room and stepped inside.

“What now, Benson?” Before the guy at the control panel could turn around, assuredly not wanting to exert so much energy and strain his neck away from the riveting surveillance of nothing but the dimly lit night, Marcus cracked the side of his head with Benson’s gun. The guy slumped forward, and Marcus caught him fast enough to keep him from falling across the keyboard. He lowered him to the ground and stuck the gun in the back of his own pants.

Working quickly, Marcus dragged Benson into the tiny office and pushed several buttons to disarm the alarm. He glanced at his watch. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. He was late. He had less than one minute until eleven. There wasn’t enough time to run for the door to the outside to open it. Instead he would need to stay low and wait for NAR to blow the entrance. It would alert everyone in the facility, but it couldn’t be helped. He just prayed the doors to the individual rooms didn’t unlock in the security breach.

Marcus hunkered down in the security office and stared at the monitors. Thirty seconds later he watched as the four soldiers on the roof collapsed in their spots, a precise move that clearly indicated the precision ability of NAR.

Marcus’s heart pounded as he waited for what he knew would happen next. Sure enough, an explosion rocked the building. Nothing in the security room was dislodged. NAR used just enough explosives to blow the entrance without taking down the entire building.

Marcus jumped from his crouched position and exited the room to run toward the entrance.

Almost immediately, dozens of camouflaged reserves flooded the hallway.

Marcus motioned for them to join him. He explained the situation as fast as he could while walking toward the living facilities. “With the exception of my grandfather, everyone is locked in their rooms. Obviously they aren’t oblivious to the explosion, but I’m confident you can scavenge around and take anything you want during the night and then be prepared to overtake everyone as their doors unlock in the morning.”

Marcus stopped walking and pointed down the long hall where all the living facilities were. “A team should ensure my grandfather doesn’t escape. Room 100.”