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With our hands cryo-cuffed, Garnet, Tyler and I were stuffed into an old Humvee. Graves sat in the passenger seat, gloating as he removed Tyler’s gag. “I couldn’t have the boy shouting a warning, could I?” Without hesitation, he reached over and grabbed my locket, jerking the chain off my neck. “As for you—we don’t want you trying anything stupid.”
He dangled the broken chain in front of his face, fingering the wolf’s head etched into Will’s whistle. Taunting me, he flicked my locket as if testing the quality of the metal. I waited for him to press the tiny button that would open it to reveal several features Sam had engineered into my Aunt Beth’s heirloom piece, including a sonic blast that would render us all unconscious, an electromagnetic pulse that would disable anything electronic in the vicinity, and the GPS tracker that let Sam know I was still alive and how to find me. Tears stung behind my eyes. Not only did the necklace have sentimental value, it was our only hope of escape or rescue.
“Since I have your full attention...” Eying each one of us in turn, he finally settled on me. “Where’s your tracker friend, Callahan?”
My lips pressed together into a tight line as he examined my locket one more time and then dropped it into an inside pocket.
“Come on, Lily. You’ll have to talk eventually.” His gaze drifted to Garnet. “I’d hate to have to force you to tell me where your boyfriend is.”
With my hands numb from the ice-cold shackles biting into my wrists, and knowing my defenses were currently useless, I did all I could think of to stall for time. Wherever Graves was taking us, he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt Garnet or Tyler to get information out of me. I’d seen his brand of interrogation firsthand when I’d had to heal Will from the injuries Graves had inflicted on him back in Albany. A slow burn of acid rose up.
“How should I know? We parted ways after Vegas—and he’s not my boyfriend,” I added with a smirk to match his. I stared out the window, memorizing street names and turns as we maneuvered through the city, my mind intent on an escape plan. Agents had confiscated our vehicle and followed close behind, reminding me that my pack, along with Tyler’s and Garnet’s, were now in the hands of our enemy—along with our currency, clothes, and supplies.
“I saw the way you two looked at each other. There’s no way he would have left you on your own.”
I met his gaze with as cool an expression as I could manage. “He wasn’t too happy with me after I let your boss escape with his father.” I knew it was no use lying to Graves. And with how Will and I had left things, it shouldn’t be too hard to convince the man our budding romance was over.
“You want me to think he went after his father and the Vice President, but if that were true, he’d already be in custody. I’ve had every available man hunting him down and he’s nowhere to be found.”
My heart lit up with hope but instantly dimmed with the thought that something might have happened to Will. He had evaded capture for almost two years out on his own—before he’d been caught for stealing food and was sent to a work camp for six months. The Industry had gotten to him before, but if anyone knew how to stay under the radar, it was Will.
“You and I both know that Will Callahan is a loner and that he’ll do anything to survive.”
The spark of amusement behind the man’s eyes told me he knew I was referring to Will’s betrayal of me and my family when he tricked me into walking straight into the Industry’s trap in Albany. But Will had changed since then. Once he realized the Industry had no intention of ever releasing his father, and that Vice President Malevich’s plan was to use Brian Callahan to control his sister Kathleen—Will’s aunt, and our current President—Will had set his sights on destroying the Industry leader.
I flashed a satisfied grin. “If Will doesn’t want to be found, you’ll never find him.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. Once he realizes I have you three, he’ll be knocking on my front door.”
He turned to face front as we reached our destination. The Humvee pulled into an airport parking lot and sped through the gates behind the other vehicles. Up ahead, at the far side of the tarmac, a private jet sat waiting, its lights on and engines running.
A square-jawed agent shuffled us on board the small jet, its state-of-the-art accommodations doing nothing to quell my nerves. I peered out the window as the dune buggy was loaded into the cargo bay of the jet, and I wondered what use the beat-up vehicle would be to Graves. Removing our cryo-cuffs, the agent directed us to our seats, making us fasten ourselves in before leaving us and disappearing out the door and down the steps. The engine roared to life beneath us. I whispered to Garnet and Tyler as I rubbed circulation back into my wrists.
“Try not to worry. We’ll think of a plan.”
“Well it better be good—and it better be fast. They’ve taken all our weapons...” Garnet stopped talking when a female agent, her hat pulled low over her eyes, emerged from the cockpit and passed us by. I waited until she disappeared out the cabin door.
“Tyler, do you know where Graves is taking us?” I kept my voice low.
Tyler focused his attention, closed his eyes and a moment later a glimmer of a smile curved his lips. “Chicago. He plans to meet up with Malevich.”
Think, think, think. Sam’s words echoed in my head. Stop thinking and you’ll stop trying—stop trying and you’ll die. I had to find a way to get us off the plane. If we were held up in Chicago, I’d never make it back to Sam to warn him. My stomach pitched, a sudden fear that it might already be too late creeping in.
Before I had time to formulate a plan, an explosion outside the plane shook us in our seats. Garnet shrieked. Flames rose up outside the window. The sound of people screaming, running, sirens blaring in the distance. A round of loud grunts from just outside was followed by more shouting and then gunfire as the engines whined and the cabin door slammed shut.
The female agent who had passed us a minute before locked the door behind her, staggered, and fell to her knees. When she dropped to the floor, her hat tumbled off and a long, shiny black braid cascaded out. Blood oozed from a wound and spilled over her hand as she clutched her shoulder and tried to cry out, but the only sound she managed was a muffled moan. The healer in me acted on instinct. I unfastened my seatbelt and ran to her side. I replaced her hand with mine over the wound, and pressed my other palm to the back of her shoulder, then closed my eyes to assess the damage. The bullet had torn clean through but had hit a major artery.
“What are you doing, Lily?” Garnet jumped from her seat as the jet taxied down the runway for takeoff. She confiscated the stunner the agent had dropped and aimed it at the injured girl. “You can’t help her. She’s the enemy!”
“No, she’s not,” Tyler shouted. The roar of the engines drowned out whatever he said next.
I yelled to Garnet. “Strap yourself in. Don’t worry about me.” Garnet stumbled and fell into her seat, the stunner gripped in her hand as she struggled to buckle the seatbelt in place. My attention fell back to the girl and everything else faded to white noise.
Healing energy—heat and light—passed through my hands, filling me with warmth as I focused on repairing the artery and sealing the tissues back together in my mind. Wide dark eyes stared back at me, fear and pain riding the surface. But beneath the emotions, I sensed something else—goodness. The girl wasn’t much older than me, I realized. I spoke reassuringly as her eyes rolled back and she forced herself to hold onto consciousness.
The jet lifted off the ground and my stomach lurched. I held tight to the wound, stanching the flow of blood until it stopped completely. Color returned to her face as the wound closed beneath my hand. I held the girl close until the plane leveled out a few minutes later. Garnet had a white-knuckled grip on the armrest, her face paler than that of the injured agent.
I climbed to my feet and helped the girl into a seat across from Tyler and Garnet.
“Who are you?’ asked Garnet.
“What’s your name?” asked Tyler.
“Where are we going?” I chimed in, hoping she would trust we meant her no harm. But she stared at the floor, her eyes cold and her face a mask of defiance. Then her head came up and her expression shifted as she looked beyond us.
“You won’t get any information from her.”
I whirled in my seat to see a man exiting the cockpit. My eyes grew wide. It was the man from the kitchen in Barbara’s boarding house, his blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and his scruff of beard dark against deeply tanned skin, making him seem older and rougher than he’d appeared that morning. As I opened my mouth to ask a question, he stopped me with a hand.
“She’s had her tongue cut out. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your mouths shut and do what you’re told.”
