Authors: Lynn Hagen
“I want Enrique Marcelo detained as quickly as possible. Orders are to bring him in alive,” Lieutenant Commander Middleton said.
Lieutenant Commander John Freedman had no way of letting Enrique Marcelo know that the Death Squad was closing in on them. He had no way to let Brooke and Deluca know to get them the hell out of there. The new leader of the Death Squad, Lieutenant Commander Eric Middleton, hadn’t stopped anywhere for Freedman to warn them, and he had ordered communication blackout.
There was no way Freedman could use his phone. He couldn’t even send a damn text. And he still hadn’t heard from Henderson. A strange sense of dread filled him when he thought of his friend. Somehow, Freedman knew Henderson was dead. His friend would not have waited this long to return to the unit. His friend would not have waited this long to contact Freedman.
He sat in the passenger’s seat of the Humvee, watching as they grew closer to the detention center, and knew this was it. His secret fight to keep Enrique alive so he could lead the rebellion had failed. Intel had come in that an alpha in the Smoky Mountains had been captured and had bargained his way out of seeing the inside of the detention center. He had told them that Enrique Marcelo had just left and was heading exactly where Freedman and the others were going.
Enrique had been lucky so far. He had a whole network of people watching out for him, protecting him. Freedman was the one who had come up with the idea to place an ad in the paper as a contact point for the werewolf alpha. Word had spread like wildfire and every supporter in every city, and even in small towns, took an ad out each day, in the hopes that they could help.
Never before had Freedman seen so many sympathizers come out of the woodworks to lend a hand. It was truly amazing. He had never met Enrique, but Freedman would have loved to have sat down with the man and talk with him for a while. He knew Enrique was clueless about what to do. That was why he had tried to guide the guy every step of the way.
The Humvee came to a stop. Freedman glanced around.
“They are just a few hundred yards to the south,” Middleton said.
Freedman reached to open his door when a hand landed on his arm. He turned to see the edges of rage filling Middleton’s eyes. For the longest time he said nothing, and then his hand gripped his arm harder, sending a slight jolt of pain up Freedman’s arm.
“Betray us and you will end up like Henderson.” His words were so lethally controlled that they felt like a whip across Freedman’s senses. He yanked his arm free and exited the truck before he gave in to the urge and killed the bastard. Henderson was dead. Middleton had killed him. He knew about Henderson going to Enrique to warn him.
Freedman joined the others as they met at the back of the Humvee. Middleton gave him one last warning glare before they headed toward the black van sitting to their south.
* * * *
Dorian glanced up when he saw Miguel and Benito sniff the air. He knew that meant they scented something. Trisha sat forward, placing Peanut on the floor of the van as she leaned forward as well.
“What’s that smell?” she asked.
Before either juvenile could answer, the back doors of the van flew open and guns were pointed at them. Dorian’s heart was hammering in his chest. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew without being told that this was the Death Squad. There was a bone-chilling gleam in the eyes of the first man who was in the front of the group.
“Get out nice and slow.”
Jordison and Corrigan rose slowly from their seats.
“Hands where I can see them.” The man spoke calmly, but Dorian knew one false move, and they would open fire. The two soldiers exited the van first, hands in the air. They were taken to the ground with swiftness.
“You next,” the man said to Benito.
Benito glanced at Dorian, his eyes filled with regret as he climbed out. Miguel went next. Dorian knew Miguel would die to protect Benito. His cousin meant everything in the world to him. The juvenile had already lost his parents. Benito was all he had left.
Omar stood without being told and got out of the van. Dorian could see the resignation etched on his face.
“You’re Dorian Campbell.” It was a statement.
Dorian neither confirmed nor denied it.
“Where’s Enrique Marcelo?” The man sounded pissed. “Where in the fuck is your mate?”
He was shocked these men knew his relationship with Rick. They were more knowledgeable than Dorian cared for them to be. The man holstered his gun and yanked Dorian from the van. He landed on the ground, and the wind was knocked from his lungs.
“I asked you where Enrique was!” The man kicked Dorian in his ribs.
“Leave him alone!” Miguel shouted, but was stopped from helping Dorian when a gun was placed in the juvenile’s face. He glared at the man but stayed where he was.
Dorian rolled to his side, trying to pull air into his lungs. With every inhale, pain exploded inside of him. He gritted his teeth when his hair was yanked, his head snapping back. The man who had pulled him forcefully from the van pressed his gun into Dorian’s temple. “Tell me where in the fuck Enrique is.”
“Middleton!” one of the other men said sharply.
Middleton turned. “If you stop me, Freedman, I’ll fucking shoot you right here, right now.”
Dorian knew who Freedman was. He was the man who had helped them out along the way. This was the man who had warned them countless times that the Death Squad was closing in and they needed to get their asses moving.
He locked brown eyes with light blue. Freedman quickly looked away and glared at Middleton. “He obviously is in the detention center.”
Middleton released Dorian’s hair. His head fell to the ground. Painfully, Dorian got to his feet. As soon as he was standing, one of the members of the Death Squad had him covered, pointing a gun to Dorian’s head.
Dorian felt his gut clench when Middleton looked into the van and saw Trisha and Harmony. “Are you human or nonhuman?” he asked Trisha.
“They’re kids. Does it matter?” Dorian snapped as he stood there and prayed for some kind of help. Jordison and Corrigan were on their bellies, assault rifles digging into the back of their skulls. There was no way the two soldiers were going to be able to save them.
“It matters,” Middleton replied. He advanced on the van. Dorian was about to run toward the man to stop him when to his surprise, Omar leapt on the soldier, attacking him.
Two of the soldiers holding them at gunpoint pulled Omar off of Middleton. The man spun around, swung his fist into Omar’s jaw, and then aimed his gun at the changeling.
“No!” Dorian shouted at the same time the shot rang out.
Omar shouted, grabbing his leg and rolling to his side.
“Act like a fucking animal again and I’ll put you down like one,” Middleton threatened. He turned back around and pointed to the spot in front of him. “Get out of the van.”
Dorian glanced at Miguel and Benito, but neither looked as if they were going to shift from the smell of Omar’s blood. They both stood there with feral looks on their faces, their eyes locked onto the van.
Trisha grabbed Peanut and moved slowly toward them. Dorian could see terror in her dark-brown eyes. His hands curled into fists as Trisha wrapped her arms around the little girl and moved to where Middleton was pointing.
“Now I’ll ask you again. Are you human?”
Dorian could see Trisha visibly shaking as she gripped Peanut tighter. “No,” she whispered. Middleton made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. Dorian knew he was looking at a monster. Age didn’t matter to this man. Innocence wasn’t a factor. All he cared about was catching as many
animals
as he could.
“Is the baby human?” he asked.
Trisha took a step back, stopped, and then glanced at Dorian, her eyes pleading. Dorian’s stomach knotted. He took a step forward, but was yanked back. “Don’t move,” the man holding the gun to his head said evenly.
“Is the baby human?” Middleton shouted in Trisha’s face.
“Yes,” Trisha lied.
Middleton pointed to one of the soldiers. “Secure the infant. Get her away from these animals.”
“No!” Trisha shouted as Peanut was ripped from her arms. Miguel lunged at the man holding Peanut just as Freedman swung around and pressed his gun into Middleton’s temple. Miguel ran into the woods with Peanut clutched tightly in his arms. Benito took off, and one of the soldiers shot at him.
Benito went down.
Dorian’s blood ran cold as he stared at Benito’s prone body.
No!
Red-hot rage filled him as he threw his elbow into the man behind him and took off. He was tackled and dragged back to the group. Dorian struggled, fighting to get free, but the man had a tight hold on him.
“Let them go or I blow Middleton’s head off,” Freedman commanded.
“Then fucking kill him,” the man holding Dorian said. “This is bigger than one man. If you kill Middleton, he’ll be replaced. But I’m not losing Enrique’s mate.” The man said
mate
like it was a disease on his tongue.
Dorian glanced down at Omar to see him passed out. His leg was bleeding profusely. If the guy didn’t get medical help soon, he was going to bleed out. At least, that was what it looked like. Dorian was no expert on gunshot wounds.
“Kill me,” Middleton taunted, “if you have the balls.”
Freedman glanced at Dorian, and then Trisha. Lastly he glanced down toward Omar. “I won’t let you kill kids.” He snarled the words.
“Then stop me.”
Dorian staggered backward when Freedman did just that. Middleton fell sideways and then lay lifeless on the ground. Freedman spun around quickly and grabbed another soldier while everyone was still in shock. Freedman pressed the gun into the man’s skull. “We can do this all night, ladies.”
The man holding Dorian looked conflicted. His fingers tightened in Dorian’s shirt as he stared at Freedman. “You do realize what you have done, don’t you?”
Freedman nodded. “I’m enemy number two on the most wanted list.”
The man slowly shook his head. “No,” he said slowly, evenly. “You are enemy number one now.”
Dorian was confused until Freedman smirked at the man. “On
your
most wanted list.”
The man nodded as he pulled the gun from Dorian’s head, relaxed his grip until Dorian hit the ground, and then began to back away. The other soldiers did the same. “Watch your back, Freedman,” the man said in a low voice. “I’ll be coming for you.”
When they were out of sight, Freedman released the man he had been holding. “Get the fuck out of here, Baker.”
“Animal lover,” Baker snapped before taking off into the woods.
Dorian was on his feet in seconds, running to Benito. Freedman had bent down by Omar, checking him, but Dorian was so fucking terrified at the moment that no one else mattered. He heard someone running behind and gave a second to look back. Corrigan was hot on his heels. Dorian dropped down at Benito’s side, rolling him over.
“Careful,” Corrigan warned. “We don’t know where he was shot.”
Dorian’s eyes scanned the man’s body, but didn’t see any blood.
What the fuck?
“Well I’ll be damned,” Corrigan said as Benito opened his eyes. “He missed, didn’t he?”
Benito nodded. “I had to go down. Someone had to stay behind and warn the alpha of what was happening in case they took Dorian.”
Dorian was so damn relieved he smacked Benito on the back of his head. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again!”
Benito grinned. “I knew you cared about me.”
All three turned when Miguel came walking toward them, Peanut secured in his arms. “I take it the Death Squad is no longer a threat.”
“Oh, they’re a threat all right,” Corrigan said as he backed up to allow Benito to stand. “Freedman killed Middleton. They won’t stop until they see all of us dead now.”
“How is that any different than before?” Miguel asked just as explosions sounded all around them. Dorian shrank back and then glanced toward the detention center.
“They must be in the tunnel.” He got to his feet and took off.
“Dorian, wait!” Corrigan shouted. Dorian didn’t wait. He needed Rick. He needed to feel his mate’s arms wrapped around him and to feel safe once more. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the ramifications of having a gun pressed to his head hit Dorian hard.
He stumbled, but kept running. Not only was he running to his mate, but Dorian was outrunning the overwhelming feeling of total helplessness. Middleton had ordered Trisha and Peanut out of the van.
He had just stood there.
Trisha had looked at him for help.
He had just stood there.
Middleton had taken Peanut from Trisha’s arms.
And he had just stood there.
Dorian felt like a fake, a fraud. He had shot a vampire. He had killed a Death Squad member. He had shot the
Mãos da Morte
. And Dorian had shoved a gun into Silvia’s gut when she attacked Rick.
But he had done nothing when it counted the most.
Would he have stood by if Middleton shot Trisha?
Would he have stood by if Middleton had taken Peanut away?
Dorian fell to his knees and vomited. He was shaking so badly that he collapsed on the ground.
Fuck!
He knew deep down in his heart, that no matter what anyone said, Dorian would always think of himself as a coward from this day on.