Page 273 of Entangled

At the head of it all, standing on a table, is Alastair.

He’s looking much better than he did a few weeks ago. In a long-sleeved black shirt, his burns are hidden except for the swathe of pink, shiny skin peeking out from his collar and licking his neck around his tattoos. His color is good,healthy, and he stands with the comfortable ease of someone whose skin isn’t scouring him with agony for every twitch.

Those pale, piercing eyes stare right through me.

“Eden. Wonderful to have you join us,” he says serenely, then gestures with his rifle to go over to the others.

I throw down my gun before they can ask, as well as the large knife I had at my side. My weapons mean nothing against this many men. Once again, I have to use my brain, only this time, I’m not too numbed with grief to think.

How did this happen? Whyaren’twe dead already? How did they know where we were going to be? I can only see two possibilities—either Red Zone is bugged... or we have a rat. Nervousness skates up my spine.

Rushing over to Beau, I kneel beside him, then turn his chin so I can check his cut. His stubble bristles under my fingertips, and I can see the pulse in his throat. He’s okay. Jasper and Lucky are okay. Even if it’s just for this moment.

I reach around for my bag and feel the end of a rifle against the back of my head.

“Behave,gatita,” Mateo mutters.

Beau tenses, his eyes darkening on the man behind me. “Back off her. Now.”

Fear flutters through me, tripping up my heart rate, but the feeling is too drowned out by everything else for me to pay it much heed right now. I pull out an antiseptic cloth from my first aid kit and focus on Beau’s scent. The warmth of him beside me.

“I would think that since I took such good care of your friend, you might allow me to do the same for mine, Mateo,” I snipe, carefully dabbing at Beau’s cheek.

There’s a ripple of scoffs and raucous laughter, but under it, I hear Mateo sigh quietly. “You don’t know what you’re walking into here.”

“Don’t worry yourself over him, Eden. He might be dead in a moment,” Alastair cautions, and even as relaxed and measured as his voice is, it has the resonance of a church bell. My hand pauses. “If your friends don’t come up, you will be too.”

Dread washes over me. He says it mildly, softly, like our slaughter would be a thing of no consequence.

I drop my cloth and turn back to look at him, my mind racing and the storm in me roiling. What is this? Does Alastair want revenge for the men I killed? I know Sam will. Scanning over the faces above and around us, I can’t see their leader, though. I’m not sure why he isn’t here for this, but I’m glad.

If Sam were here, we’d already be dead.

I might not see him, but my eyes snag on another familiar face.

Aaron’s vibrant red hair peeks from the group of men behind Alastair, and I suck in a breath as understanding crashes in on me. Aaron betrayed us. That’s how they knew where we’d be.

Aaron is our rat.

My stomach clenches in resigned misery. I’m not even shocked. Aaron has been belligerent and miserable since I met him. But now, in between these older, hardened men, he looks like a boy playing dress up, his face set in a smirk I don’t believe. His eyes are too fearful.

“It’s—”

“I know,” Beau mutters, following my gaze.

A dark head comes up from the manhole, and several rifles retrain on Dom as he climbs out, then the others follow him, one by one.

“Guns and weapons in a pile. Leave your packs too,” Mateo demands as Alastair looks over them with a carefully blank expression.

Heather is the last one up, and she’s bristling with snarling tension. Her mouth is set in a sneer, and she throws her weapons down with violent disgust. All the while, she glares at Alastair with undisguised hatred.

Beau’s eyes are on me, silently urging me to look at him, but I ignore him.

I need to watch Alastair.

At Heather’s appearance, his nonchalant expression freezes. If I hadn’t been watching him for so long in the Sinners’ camp, I doubt I would have noticed. Silent intent edges his gaze, like a snake spotting a fledgling bird for its next meal.

Only, if Heather is a bird, she’s a raptor—and she looks just as likely to make a meal of him.

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