BREN

I was careful not to drop my full weight onto the bottom platform, which buckled slightly as my toes hit a specific spot. If I made too much noise, someone might hear me, and my entire plan would go kaput. It was easier said than done when I am inside a metallic death box where every section I touch had the potential to creak and thud. Hell, even my breathing made an echo. I didn't make a sound.

If I had been thirty pounds heavier and overweight like three months ago, it would probably be a different story, and I thought—the perks of an apocalyptic diet.

Luckily, the dumbwaiter shutters were closed. I could see beyond a narrow two-inch wide port overlooking the entire cafeteria kitchen: commercial-sized ranges, stoves, and ovens; rows of metallic island counters where pots and pans dangled from the ceiling; industrial kitchen sink; and two doors leading into the main cafeteria and one toward the backdoors into the alley. Shadows blanketed each corner of the room, one that made me wonder if someone could hide under it.

A large open half wall was facing the cafeteria that extended its entire length with the metal latticed shutters down. It gave me a good view into the cafeteria, but I didn't see any movement from there. The coast was clear.

Light came from above and flooded the platform. I shielded my eyes as I looked up, found Logan looking down at me with a worried expression, holding a flashlight aimed right at me. Annoyed, I gestured for him to cut the light and stick to our plan, then peeked through the window to see if anyone had noticed.

No soldiers came.

I looked up again. I could tell his wheels were turning that he wanted to follow me once I turned my back, but it would be a tight fit for him to climb down into this death trap. Saving his ass was not my priority right now, nor was I looking for an excuse to rescue him. I'm already rescuing another dude, and I didn't want to add him to the list. I didn't even know how far Yousef went.

Sighing, Logan stepped off from the entrance. He didn't stick his head out again, and I assumed he went to where Peter was now, waiting for me by the stairwell gate. Gathering enough courage, I opened the dumbwaiter shutters and stepped out.

The kitchen was cold. Deep in the bowels of the building, I could no longer hear the patter of rain against the roof and the windows, somehow an unwelcoming clangor in this dark, eerie room—every corner an enemy, every sound a call for battle. Still, I could smell the half-burnt oil from the metallic surface and the stovetops, the sticky pull of my shoes as I snuck through the un-mopped floor, and the soft tick of the clock above the kitchen entrance, clacking away the seconds I had left to find Yousef and the others, and bring them back alive.

Charlene and Olson were here, and I wondered if they had seen Yousef. But given we had no idea how long Yousef was gone, I assumed they didn't find him. I didn't hear any commotion from the worship hall, so the others weren't aware of our presence yet. I took that as a good thing.

I swallowed what courage I had left, pushing me forward to the cafeteria. I snuck behind the doorframe, my back against the kitchen counter, calculating how I should go about this. There were so many areas that Yousef could go first, but since the cafeteria was near where the girls were last seen, I decided I should head out into the courtyard. If they were smart, they should take the hidden path to the private parking area and stay by the RV. Hopefully, the other soldiers hadn't found it yet. Now I was more thankful for the heavy rain.

I put Betty back in my holster. Guns would only attract unwanted attention, so I pulled out the hatchet instead. Though I was a little nervous, I was used to getting my hands dirty, pulling punches, and hitting them where I was inches away from their face. It's not ideal, and any move could cost me, but it's better than facing them all at once, especially when they're highly trained with guns. What made me nervous was how skilled they were once the fighting started.

Seven versus one, but I had worse odds. Either way, I wasn't looking forward to it.

Clang!

I froze. Ah, shit. What now?

Clang!

Clang!

Metal buckled under someone's weight, a muffled curse, readjusted their push on the metallic box, and I knew where it was coming from. Logan, you fucking idiot! I strode toward the dumbwaiter, ready to raise hell if I had to, but I quickly realized I had to be quiet, so I tiptoed there instead. I caught light swinging around the box through the window port—a flashlight—making my blood boil even more.

Idiot!

I opened the door, ready to stick my hand in there, and maybe grabbed Logan's ear and twisted it. That should teach him! Part of me didn't care if he yelped and make some noise. If they come in here, I'll just deal with it! I'm pissed!

Instead, Haskell sat on his butt, legs crossed uncomfortably, his arms splayed across his chest, a rifle sitting on his stomach, and he couldn't quite twist his body to right himself properly.

He stared at me. "Uh...a little help?"

I rolled my eyes. "Here. Grab my hand."

I slowly pulled Haskell out of the dumbwaiter. Luckily, there was a counter before the entrance, so he didn't have to drop hard to the floor and make a ruckus. I set him down to the floor.

"Do you have a fucking death wish?" I asked. "How did you get past the others?"

"They're too busy in the stairwell," Haskell answered.

"You should be up there resting."

"But I wanted to help."

"You shouldn't be down here. We're going to sneak back to the stairwell and let Peter have you to deal with."

"Too late. I'm here now. Deal with it."

"Hoss..."

"Are we just gonna stay down here with our balls to the wall or find Yousef and the girls? We're wasting time arguing about this."

I looked down at his hand. Haskell noticed and put it behind his back.

"I'll be fine," Haskell said. "I'm not a freaky yet."

"You have a fever, and you were puking a few minutes ago."

"It's nothing I can't handle."

"I don't know..."

"Let me do this, Bren. Please. If...when I die, I wanted it to be worth something." Haskell studied my face, his gaze boring deep. "I am not fucking dying on a couch, lying on my own piss and sweat while you guys put me down like some rabid dog. I'll die my way."

There was almost a quiver to his voice, a dead man's desperation, and even though I wanted to say no, for him to die a peaceful death surrounded by his friends, a bigger part of me wanted to allow it. As he said, we were wasting time, and the path to the stairwell was even more dangerous than going to the courtyard.

I let out a heavy sigh. "Fine. But you follow my lead."

Haskell smiled. "Oh, you won't regret it."

"Ugh, don't say that. I'm regretting it already."

We came out of the cafeteria and into the courtyard. Rain was pouring harder than I thought with large swathes of puddles dotted the grass with varying degrees of depth, and raindrops pelted my skin like hail. It only took a few seconds before my clothes were soaking wet. This would be more complicated if we had to sneak back into the building, our shoes slopping and squeaking with every step we made on the marble floor. Fuck.

They weren't hiding behind the cherry blossom tree. It's pretty obvious since it's the one thing you first see from the second floor (and I didn't see them from up there), so the girls could be hiding anywhere in the courtyard. There was the small gazebo and a decent-sized shed propped against the wall, hidden behind a bunch of shrubberies, crape myrtles, and dogwood.

We started on the shed, spending a few minutes looking behind workbenches (to see if there were hidden trap doors), behind crates, under tables, but we didn't find them. Since the area was well hidden from the rest of the courtyard, we stomped through mud and flora, branches and twigs biting against our exposed skin, rain and sweat mixing all over my face. We couldn't possibly keep this up, looking behind every tree and shrub big enough to hide a grown person. And this was only the courtyard! I was beginning to think my plan wasn't precisely full-proof now that I was daunted at turning every nook and cranny inside the church just to find four people.

I followed Haskell toward the path adjacent to the shed, toward the private parking lot where the RV was. There, we came to the back gate, but as Haskell pushed the handlebars, the padlock didn't budge.

"You got the keys?" Haskell asked me.

I was about to grab the keys dangling on my neck when I realized I gave it to Peter and the others. My eyes widened. "Ah, shit."

"You don't have it."

"A precaution in case I get captured. It's with the others."

Haskell looked at the padlock. "Ain't that a good thing, right? The soldiers haven't been back there, so the girls and Yousef might not be there."

I nodded. "They're still in the compound."

"Exactly. They haven't found my baby yet," Haskell said proudly.

I smiled at that. "Come on. There's one other thing we missed."

"We looked everywhere already."

I shook my head and walked back down the path. Haskell caught up behind me. "We haven't checked underneath the gazebo yet."

Once the coast was clear, we snuck toward the gazebo. Beneath the raised platform, surrounded by wooden lattice barriers, was enough space for someone to crawl under. It was dark underneath, and not even my naked eye could see what was waiting for me there. Hard enough that rain clouds blocked the moonlight, the sheet of rain dulled the lights emanating from the church. Without attracting any attention, we reached the gazebo, kneeling in front of the lattice barrier, and peeked through the gaps.

"I can't see a fucking thing," Haskell cursed, kneeling beside me.

He was right. It was pitch black down there. I had no choice but to pull out my flashlight, a risk given anyone could look through the many windows and offices overlooking the courtyard from the ground floor. I told myself I'd count to five, and if I didn't see anything, I'd shut off the light.

But before I pulled it out, I noticed the lattice barrier had unhooked from the baluster, like it had been ripped apart and hastily put back. A flame fired up in my gut, a hopeful one, and I turned on the flashlight and aimed it under the gazebo. Paloma and Holly shielded their eyes from the light. Yousef had crawled closer, a knife pointing straight for my throat.

"Yousef!" I exclaimed.

Yousef froze, pulled the knife back. "Bren?"

"Yes, you idiot. What the fuck were you thinking?"

"I...I found them. See?"

"Yeah, I can see that."

"Turn that fucking thing off! You're gonna bring them down on us!" Aria hissed behind Yousef.

I quickly turned the light off and put it back on my belt. "Yeah, sorry," I said. I helped Yousef out of the hole. "Everyone alright?"

Yousef nodded. "No one hurt."

"And wet," Paloma groaned. They lay on top of a couple of inches of a puddle, pooling in from outside. "I might have accidentally drunk some. Ew."

Yousef added, "Some soldiers passed by a lot, but we didn't have guns, and I don't think that would be smart, so we decided to stay hidden and wait for them to sleep."

"I don't think they're the type to leave themselves unguarded," Haskell said. "They're persistent and paranoid."

"We didn't have the keys for the gates, else we'd be on the RV right now," Aria said.

I frowned. "Sorry about that."

"How about we just go there now?" Aria asked. "You got the keys, right?"

"Can't. Miguel is in the church."

"Miguel? He's alive?"

"Yeah. They seemed to be taking good care of him. And you're not gonna like who these soldiers are."

Aria shook her head. "I know. Yousef told me."

"Well, in that a case, how about we get the fuck out of here, huh? The others are waiting by the stairwell."

Holly visibly shuddered. "Wait...we're going back inside?"

"I don't have the keys to the back gates. Left it behind the others, so we can't make a run for Cora."

Holly sank deeper into the shadows. "I, uh, I don't know about that."

"Either get soaked out here in inches of water with chances of hypothermia, or get inside, get warm, and then wait for these fuckers out for an attack plan. Got it?" Haskell said. Haskell extended his hand out for Aria, and Aria took it.

"Oh, fuck!" Yousef screeched.

Haskell's head smashed onto the porch anchor, and he instantly dropped to the ground, unconscious, blood running out of his nostrils. I didn't even have time to grab my hatchet before an arm wrapped around my neck, lifting me off my feet.

I flailed my arms, my legs, trying to get out of the iron grip, but their strength choked me further the longer I struggled. I scratched onto the sleeves' fabric, but they were too thick for my nails to penetrate, and I didn't have enough room to tilt my head and maybe bite them. I realized I had the knife sheathed on my belt and pulled it out, flipping it over so that the blade pointed back and thrust, trying to stab the guy's eye out.

He blocked it, and before I could anticipate his next move, he wrapped his large hand around my wrist and twisted it, pulling my arm around until I had nothing left but to scream, and the blade fell off my grip.

Shit!

He threw me down to the ground, pinned my head into the wet grass, rainwater pooling around half of my face, stinging my eyes, into my nose.

"Get the fuck off me!" I screamed. A desperate one, but something I had to do when the fear and the panic quickly fogged my brain.

Guzman and Walters walked out from behind the gazebo; rifles raised, flashlights aimed at Aria and Yousef. There was a scream from under the gazebo, probably Holly, and the two soldiers were screaming and shouting at each other before Olson showed up, running back to flank and block Paloma and Holly from escaping.

"Easy does it. Easy does it," the soldier pinning me down said. I recognized Taggart's voice. "How's it doing back there?" Taggart asked.

"We got four—" Guzman paused. "Holy shit. Aria? What the fuck are you doing out here? And...is that Holly? I thought you guys got fucking blasted by the Alphas."

Aria spat on his face. Guzman reeled back, wiped the saliva off his nose, and scowled at her. He slapped her square on the face, and the force hit her head against the lattice barrier. Aria wasn't moving.

"Aria!" Yousef screamed. He turned to the soldier with seething fury, trying to get up from the ground, and yelled, "You motherfucker!"

Walters pointed the rifle's barrel on his temple, egging him on to try. "You're gonna behave, porky or I swear I'll paint this gazebo with your brain if you try anything."

"Let's bring them inside and out of this damned rain. The captain will want to speak to them."

Taggart let go of my head, and I barely had time to look up before I felt the cold kiss of the rifle's butt connecting to my temple, and my head hit the ground again.

——

I had a bad dream.

Some might say it was a pleasant dream. I stood in an empty meadow, bathing under the sun's clement glow, the wind tussling my hair, the mountains with their snowy peaks looming over the horizon. But the loneliness was what got you. No one around for a mile, not a voice, not a whisper, and I remained standing there for eternity, and soon paradise became a torturous landscape.

My eyes slowly opened (not the kind of where I would jolt out of bed screaming), then I would wake up in a similar landscape, only this one was bathed in blood.

Haskell was still unconscious next to me. The blood on his nose had dried, but he was still breathing, deep in sleep. I realized they had bound his hands around his back with a tight knot. Then, there was a slight commotion behind him, recognized Yousef splayed on his back on the pew, Aria tending over his wounds as if he had been beaten, chest slowly rising, his breath slightly ragged. He'd live, but I doubted a good night's rest would make him feel better tomorrow. I noticed that Aria sported a bruise on her right cheek and a gash on her bottom lip. Paloma sat nearby, quiet, observing, but I did not find a mark on her except for the mud and dirt all over her face and hair. They also bound her on her wrists. Holly sat next to her, eyes and the tip of their nose were red from crying.

Someone hauled me off the floor and sat me on a wooden chair. Drucker stood over me, Murray not far behind. I looked around and found myself in the worship hall again, the cross looming over me like some judgmental bitch, here to take my deliverance. I tasted blood under my tongue and spat it out, almost hitting Drucker's boots, but he slightly took a step back, shared a bemused look at Murray, and then turned back to me.

I blinked, trying to clear my vision, saw Taggart and Olson standing by the doorway leading into the office buildings, pushing back Miguel from peeking in. He recognized me (of course he did), probably saw Aria and the others, too. Drucker must have moved them out of the worship hall while they tortured me. There was no doubt about their intentions. I had tortured people twice now in a brief span of time, and I knew the drill.

A guy bound to a chair would only go in two ways: Interrogation or some fucking BDSM play. I doubted Drucker was in the mood for the latter, but I didn't want to kink-shame.

I almost burst out laughing they didn't have the stomach letting those the kids watch. Their attempt at empathy was pitiful.

In retrospect, this was the first time I had been on the other end of the chair, and I wasn't bullshitting when I say I was fucking scared that I almost pissed myself. Guzman secured me around the chair, though they didn't bother binding my legs. Good. Their overconfidence was gonna cost them.

Maybe. I still had no fucking idea how I was going to get out of this. Guzman made a decent knot, hard to unbind even for me. The soldier scowled at me as he strode toward Taggart and Olson, feeling proud at what he made. I guessed I found the Boy Scout. Perhaps I could wrap this rope around his neck and see what he thought of it. Would he be a jerk at me now?

If only I could get out now...

Peter and Logan must be buying time to reorganize and plan this out. They couldn't just burst through the stairwell after all and compromise everyone who didn't know how to fight, much less shoot a gun. If they failed, everyone would die. So, they had to be careful, and knowing Peter, he probably had a plan already. It was always "the plan" with him.

But Logan...hell, he'd probably do the former. Storm in and deal with the consequences later. I just hoped he had the common sense of avoiding it, and I'm sure Peter's reasoning with him...as long as they didn't kill each other first.

And how long was I out? Ten? Fifteen? Thirty minutes?

Never mind. Any time now, the others would come. I just had to buy enough time before they rendered me incapable when the fighting started, preferably before they started hitting me on the face like what they did to Yousef.

Drucker took a plastic bottle next to their bags