Page 67 of Under a Wicked Moon
The lycan pulled him into the hallway that led to the bathrooms. “We don’t have time for this baloney.” He shook him. “Snap out of wherever your brain’s gone. This is real. We might die if you have a meltdown. We’re upping the pace, so keep up.”
They jogged quickly up a back exit of the Underground. Each step jarred him. He wasn’t sure if his loopiness came from blood loss and malnutrition or the fact that he thought his dead brother had saved him, but he ignored it.Escape. Keep moving.
Maybe this was Shane’s ghost, which meant it might still be in his head. Or he was an authentic spirit, not a phantom or poltergeist, which were different.
Ky caught himself on one of the railings of the steps that took them to daylight and panted. As they stood there for several seconds, the other guy radiating impatience, Possibly-Shane pointed at the duffel. “What’s in the bag? Is it worth dying over? If not, ditch it.”
Ky hugged the duffel tight to his chest and didn’t reply.
“Worth dying over. Got it.” Possibly-Shane squinted at the bag as if sensing some of the bad juju contained inside. “You’re still giving me the stink eye.”
Ky said, “Are you a ghost? The Shane I knew died. I saw it. As in, he was atomized by a bomb.”
“Maybe I am a ghost. I sure don’t stink like a zombie, do I?”
“Who the hell are you?”
God, that smirk. So completely Shane. But, then again, maybe not his brother. “I’m the one getting you to your car.”
He followed, shoulders hunched upward to ward off the bitter, whistling wind. A few corners, and there sat the sedan he’d rented. Palm toward the car, he undid the wards he’d placed on it to keep people out.
Once in the driver’s seat, he looked up. “Thanks.
“You sure you’re not going to pass out at the wheel?”
“I’ll make it out of the city. Who’re you working for?”
Possibly-Shane leaned in. “I’m with the Alliance. We’ve been watching you. They were going to kill you in the prison. The things they must’ve done and the information they might’ve gotten on us… I have my people working on eliminating all their data about us, especially you, and discovering the extent of it, but the operation goes far deeper than you think.”
“If you knew I was in there…that Vivi was in there, why didn’t you get us out?”
“We were this close to an extraction.” He held his forefinger and thumb one inch apart. “But my people are no match for your brothers. They beat us there. One more thing…” He lowered hisvoice. “Be careful. The girl you’re in love with is dangerous.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Vivi grabbed her head as if holding it might stop its throbbing. Disoriented in the dark, she sat up slowly, since the world wobbled with each small move. The cushy surface was nothing like the usual uncompromising benches. No sanitizing cleanser saturated her nostrils.
You’re not in there. This isn’t the prison.
Then why did her head hurt like it used to when she woke up without any memory of how or when she’d fallen asleep? The thud in her temples dulled enough to let her look around.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed.Too fast.Pain ripped through her skull as if something else was trying to take over. Memory crashed in of the little German man saying,“The prompts aren’t taking well enough for us to trust her on her own.”
You can’t have my mind,she thought.Get out of my head.
As she grabbed for a bedside lamp, desperate to illuminate her location and escape the darkness, she knocked a water bottle off the table. Her surroundings triggered no memory. Although not having any recollection of how she got here was not a new situation, this was definitely not the prison.
A deep inhale didn’t pick up Ky, but there were other lycans around. She detected Roman and Flynn. The room smelled clean in a way that didn’t scream sanitization but instead, laundry detergent.
Where was Ky? She needed him. He’d help her understandwhat happened to her.
The meeting. The last she remembered was someone named Slate taunting Ky and Roman. Then nothing. She pushed her brain to remember. Had she been hit in the head and passed out?
A chill slithered down her back. She’d been triggered.
What had she done?
It had to be why she couldn’t remember, since she was no longer imprisoned by people who regularly shot her up with sedatives and God knew what else. Her heart raced. Had she done whatever she’d been told to do? Why couldn’t she remember?
