Something was going on. Adam wasn’t as high in the Brotherhood as his mate, and he hadn’t talked to Tanner in weeks, not since Sister Abby’s death. She’d rescued six then, and there weren’t many left, not of the victims.
Still, he wanted the children out. He wanted Tanner out. He wanted to expose these fucks.
People were packing up, tearing down fences and cages. He wasn’t sure where they were going, and he was a plebe, someone to be threatened, to cower.
But they were going somewhere.
Dammit.
He lay on his side on the pallet they’d given each of them, pretending to be weaker than he was, coughing every so often. They left you alone if they thought you were sick.
All he could do was wait and watch. Pray for Tanner.
Pray for the right time.