Hunted (A Sinners Series Book 2) (44 page)

Immediately, I reach for my gun.

“Stay back,” I say, pointing it at the gathering crowd. I back up to Cole, who’s already aiming his gun in their direction. Beside me is Bill, his gun raised. Inside the triangle formed by the three of us is Bruno, holding onto Grace, Zeus, and Roméo. “Don’t move an inch, or I’ll shoot.”

But they encircle us, eyes locking onto our faces. Some of them squint, while others lick their lips. Very few smile or nod in acknowledgement. It’s like a pack of wolves, testing their prey for weaknesses. They’re probably so hungry, they’d eat Zeus at this point.

“Here we are starving, and she’s got a pack full of food,” a female voice says.

“Gimme the water,” a man says while stepping toward me. I point my gun at him.

“I said don’t move,” I repeat.

“I’m going to die either way, girl, so you’ll just expedite the process.”

“Come on, guys … look at them … they’re not guards, you idiots.” A girl pulls back on the man’s shoulders. He stops and gives her a nasty look. He cracks his knuckles and raises a hand to hit her when someone yells.

“Hold on a minute!” Everyone turns to look at the person, and he points at me. “I recognize you.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Yeah, I recognize her too, from my dreams last night,” another mane chimes in. “You’re that girl. The one Wilson’s offering the reward for. Lexi, isn’t it?”

Cole steps forward a little, aiming right at the man with the smart mouth.

I don’t like the direction this conversation’s going. My muscles tense, ready for a fight if need be. Next to me, Zeus growls and inches toward them. Only then do some of them backpedal.

“Now hold up, let’s all calm down here,” a man with a black brand says. He steps forward. I flick my eyes to his, and he raises his hands up, palms facing me. “I’ve got a proposition to make here.”

“You’re joking, right?” Cole asks.

“I’m afraid not; we need each other, plain and simple. So let’s say if you help us, we’ll help you.”

My shoulders relax some, but I don’t lower my gun. “And why would we do that?” I ask.

“Look, girl, we’re not interested in your reward.”

“We’re not that trusting,” Cole says.

“And you can’t possibly care about us,” I say.

“Actually, you’re wrong,” a lady says. “There’s not a single person standing in front of you that is happy with the way things are.”

“All we want is to get the hell out of here,” the man finishes. “We’re well aware Wilson’s a liar.”

“Okay. So, say we believe you. How can you help us?” Cole asks. He has his sights trained on them still, sweat gliding down his face and arms.

The man with scraggly hair and the black brand exhales. “Now that part’s simple. We’ll assault the main gate while you get your people out.”

“You might be crazier than me,” Bill says. “And that’s saying a lot.” I snort.

“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would you risk your lives … to help us?” I ask.

“We’re starving, thirsty … dying,” the man with the black brand says. “And you’re the only hope we’ve got to end this, once and for all.” I pause for a moment as his words swim around in my head.

“That’s it?” I ask.

He chuckles. “That’s it.”

“Well, hang on a minute,” the girl interrupts. “I think we need to ask for a guarantee, don’t you?” She looks over at the man who was about to hit her and then to the man with the black brand.

The man with the black brand clears his throat. “Yes. One more thing.”

“What?” I ask.

“The packs stay here with us. After all, once you’re outta here, you won’t need them.” He smiles, looking satisfied.

“Deal,” Bill says in a scratchy voice before any of us has a chance to respond. “Here’s everything I’ve got.” He opens his backpack, pushing aside files, and holds out his water, food, and some spare ammunition.

“Line up,” the black-branded man says. He takes the supplies and divvies it out to the others as they fall into a thin line. “Make sure the children are fed first.”

I like this guy.

They pass cans of food and water down the line. At the end of it, I watch as the older Sinners summon the young children from their nearby huts. Hesitantly, the children peek out. Their potbellies and sunken eyes bleed my heart. They’ve been living in filth for how long, and now they don’t even have the basic necessities of food and water. The adults give them small servings, tenderly making sure they don’t eat or drink too fast. My stomach drops. The Sinners handle each item with care, never letting the sight of the food make them crazy.

Bill finishes handing out his food. He nods his head toward me. “Well, are you in?” he asks.

Cole and I lock glances. Bruno hasn’t acknowledged anyone yet. He stares into space with dead eyes. No more tears drop down over his cheekbones, and his hands lie limp at his sides, Grace’s body lying beside him.

“What’re you thinking?” Cole asks.

“I don’t think we have a choice.” I take a deep breath and open my backpack, emptying the remains of the food and water. “I’m in.”

“Then so am I.”

One hour later.

“Here’s the plan,” the black-branded man says. “We’ve managed to repair a car so that it runs. We’ll distract the guards while your assets drive to the entrance. As soon as we get it open, you drive through.”

“How will you make that happen?” Roméo asks. He swipes at a fly buzzing near his face.

“I’ve created a trusting relationship with a guard who works the gate, and she’s willing to help us,” the man answers.

It’s my turn to raise an eyebrow. “A guard?” I repeat.

“You’ve trusted a few, right?” The man gives me a weak smile.

“Very few,” I say.

Cole grasps my hand and squeezes it. “What’s your name?”

“Levi.”

“All right, Levi. Let’s get started.”

Two hours later.

I’m running on pure adrenaline. But we can’t wait any longer or we’ll lose the element of surprise we so desperately need. Before I know it, Bill’s wrapping his arms around me with a long sigh.

“Stay with Roméo, and whatever happens, you have to get those files out,” I say. “Oh, and Bill, thank you, for everything. Without you, we’d be dead.”

A slow blush creeps up his cheeks, and he shrugs. “Shucks, Lusty, I only hope to make you proud.” He smiles and salutes me.

My throat tightens, but I hold back my emotions. “You already have,” I tell him.

“Take care of yourself, and that nutty gray dog,” he adds.

This won’t be the last time we see each other, right?

“Goodbye, Roméo,” I say. He holds out his hand to shake mine, but I step in and give him an awkward hug. His one hand catches me around my back, and he steps away quickly when our bodies touch.

“Thank you for helping me,” he says. His reddened eyes and thin body look nothing like the person I met the first time. “I’ll make sure these reach the United Powers as soon as possible. Once they see the files, they’ll have all the evidence they need. They’ll have no choice but to intervene.”

“Here’s hoping,” I say. “And thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me; nobody deserves this life, and we can’t let this virus get out into the general population,” he says. “Now, go rescue Sutton, and I’ll do my part.”

Before I reply, he shakes hands with Cole, says an encouraging word to Bruno, and even pats Zeus on the head. He loads the files into the car and gets into the passenger seat next to Bill. They’ll wait until they receive the signal to go through the doors.

It’s going to be a long day.

Three hours later.

I wait in the shadows with Cole, Zeus, and some Sinners. I’ve given them the extra gun I confiscated from the dead guard during the night. We’ve spread out the remaining grenades along with Roméo’s gun, since he won’t be shooting much from the car. It’s a risk we take in order to give these people a fighting chance.

I taste sweat as it rolls over my lip and into my mouth. Flies zip around my face, even landing on my nose, but I can’t whisk them away with my gun in my hand and my body poised for attack.

I think of Bruno, who chose to stay behind. He refused to respond when we begged him to come. It didn’t seem right to force him if he wasn’t ready to leave Grace.
And he wasn’t ready at all.
Bruno is in no condition for this mission and, in his state of mind, would probably end up getting himself killed. I don’t know if he even cares about anything anymore, including his own life.

I don’t want to do this without him and his expertise, but I know it’s more important for him to be where he can focus on his grief.
Grace. Christopher.
Sometimes, mourning what you never had is just as heart-wrenching as mourning what you did.

Cole taps my shoulder and points ahead. Four guards stand at the ready while the gate opens with the sound of metal grinding metal. A black SUV prepares to roll inside. The guards salute the driver. The vehicle lumbers in as the doors bang closed behind it.

Across from us is the new lab where people were marched for their injections and the building where I first saw the projection about the history of the Hole. I blink, straining against the glare of the sun. A few minutes ago, ten people were herded inside. It was painful to watch. But knowing we’re about to fight back makes it slightly more bearable.

Behind me, Sinners are getting antsy. Feet move, dust spirals upward in small tornadoes, and equipment bangs together. They’re not the most battle-disciplined group, but they’re willing to give their lives to help us.

In five minutes, we’ll unload everything we’ve got at the lab to distract the guards from the entrance.

One minute passes. Two minutes.

A fly lands on my forehead. I scrunch it up, but the fly stays, skittering around on tiny feet. I shake my head, but it won’t budge.

Three minutes. Four minutes.

“Mom, let me in!” I say, banging on the door to the study.

I hear something crash, and feet moving furniture around. Chairs or tables scrape against the hardwood flooring.

“Coming,” she says in a breathless voice.

The thick door separates the study from the foyer. Inside, my mom keeps books and a computer. Sometimes she works on projects in there, and when she does, the door is kept closed for hours. After we moved into our High Society condo, she remarried. Then Keegan left, and Mom’s distanced herself from me. Yet I keep trying to bring her back into my world.

Feet thump in my direction. “What’s wrong?” she says as she opens the door. Her eyes look tired and glassy.

“I need help with my homework,” I say.

“Right now?”

“Yes.” I try to shove my way in, but she holds the door with an iron grip. “What are you doing in there?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” she says. She looks around nervously.