Page 79 of Redeemed
She’s standing against the wall, and before she answers, she slides down so she’s squatting with her elbows resting on her knees. “Nah,” she says, interlacing her fingers. “My last meal’s going to be better than anything these asswipes can come up with.”
“Asswipes.” I snicker, but yeah, that’s my sister. Collins is shorthand for confidence.
Cliffe groans and stretches out on the bunk. “You two. You seriously think…nah, never mind.” She covers her face with her hands, as if she hopes we won’t see her fear. I can smell it, though, cutting through the funk of blood and smoke and desperation.
“Yes, I do think.” I say it quietly, giving the words time to sink in. “I mean, they’re not going to unlock the door and tell us there’s an Uber out front, but as soon as we see a chance, we’re going to take it.”
“And do what?” Cliffe’s words are muffled by her hands.
“Run,” Abby says with a small smile. We’re both pint-sized, but she’s got Mom’s soft features. She’s got Dad’s dark eyes, too, and it’s the daughter of the American Alpha who’s watching Cliffe carefully.
Cliffe sits up, shaking lank hair in front of her face. “Maybe one of his boyfriends will rescue us.”
“Or maybe we’ll rescue ourselves.” I speak firmly. God knows what good it’ll do, but if we don’t believe we can get out of this, we might as well give up. “Here’s what I think.” I tap on the floor, making up a plan on the fly. “They must want us for a reason, or we’d be dead.”
“True.”
Abby’s assurance reinforces my own. “Regardless of what happens next, we all need to stay alert, and if any of us see a break, an opportunity, a…shit, I don’t know, anything like an opening, holler and we’ll all run.” Okay, it’s not much of a plan, but it’s better than diving into a collective well of despair.
“What should we holler?” Cliffe might not actually buy what I’m selling, but her snarky tone is a step in the right direction.
“Pork belly.” My mouth might be smirking, but my gaze is steady. “Anyone who sees an out yells “pork belly” and we all take off.”
Abby rocks forward and smacks me on the arm. “You don’t even like pork.”
“Now that I think about it, I could really use some beef.”
She raises both hands. “I do not want to know, brother of mine. You keep your salacious details to yourself.”
I snicker, but Cliffe has gone rigid.
“The copper heart has the most to lose, and all hinges on his choice.”
Her voice sounds as if three people are talking at once, and one of them’s being tortured. Abby and I share a glance. “Uh, what?”
Cliffe blinks like she’s just taken a thirty-second nap. “I don’t know. What?”
Abby’s on the alert. “You just said something about a copper heart.”
With a shrug, Cliffe slumps against the wall. “Psychic, my dudes. My other sense has a shitty sense of timing.”
“That’s so cool, though.” Abby’s grin is the brightest thing in the place. “I mean, the ability to spout semi-meaningful nonsense in critical situations is something we should all cultivate.”
I raise my eyebrow at her. “You’ve been spending too much time with our mother.”
“Mom would l-o-v-e Cliffe.”
Cliffe laughs, her cheeks so pink she must be embarrassed. Abby’s not wrong, though. “I look forward to bringing you home to meet Mom.”
Just as soon as we get out of here.
Chapter Thirty-One
Connor
STONE’S CONFERENCE ROOM table seats eight, but we have more than that present. In addition to me, Trajan, and Stone, there’s Lydia and her girl Accalia, Sheena, the magician Albion Bird, David’s cousin Marcus, and Sam Kowalski.
Stone volunteers to stand in the doorway so the rest of us can have a seat. His aura is solid, secure, a dark mix of colors that boost my confidence. I turn to him when the mix of auras at the table gets too agitated for me to sort one from the other. Reading the room, I see nervous energy verging on fear. Even Trajan’s clear blue is spiked with red and grey.
