Page 71 of Unchained

He swept his arm around her waist, bearing most of her weight. “I’d carry you, but I need to be able to shoot.”

“I’m fine. Honest.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need Brooks bitching at me for making you walk. Just a bit father, okay?”

She let him half-carry her through the trees. The soles of her feet throbbed. If it turned out that she needed to run, she’d probably be a goner.

A tree branch snapped. The sound echoed through the dense woods. Nash froze, his arm extending in front of them. She clenched her lips together to smother her gasp. Moving her finger on the trigger, she flitted her eyes around the shadows.

Please, God. Don’t let Nash get hurt because of me, too.

“Freeze! Drop your weapon! You’re surrounded.”

Nash’s body tensed against hers. Three guards moved out of the trees.

“On the ground! Now!”

Nash muttered a curse and lowered his gun, keeping her glued to his side. Cam’s heart beat frantically in her chest as she dropped her weapon to a pile of leaves.

They weren’t getting out of this now.

* * *

Slam!

Brooks’s back connected with the metal hospital bed, sending a shock through his spine. He swung a jab into a heavyset guard. Blood splattered from the man’s mouth as he went down.

“Tim!” shouted one of the men trying to restrain Brooks’s feet. A third guard wrestled Brooks’s left arm down, pressing his weight into Brooks’s shoulder.

Using all his strength, Brooks kicked the man at his feet in the chest, sending him barreling backward. The man at his side widened his eyes but didn’t let go. Brooks reached up, grabbed his head, and snapped it to the side. The sound of cracking bones bounced off the tent’s walls. The man’s lifeless body slithered to the floor.

He stared at the carnage around him. Tim was sprawled unconscious on the floor, and the man he’d kicked lay on his side, his hand pressed to his chest and a sharp wheeze coming from his lungs. “Y-You broke my ribs.”

Brooks swung his legs off the table. Bastards. A deep throb burned from the outside of his thigh, where he’d been shot. He didn’t look at it. No time to slow down, and it didn’t feel as though a bullet was lodged in it. Probably a graze.

Hands clapped. Brooks frowned and snapped his gaze to Leonetti, who was standing near the front of the tent, three more guards at his side.

“I’m impressed, thirty-six,” he said, still clapping. “It’s been days since you’ve had the Axalantheum injection and you’re still performing well. I believe you’re benefiting from permanent changes. I’m eager to see how you’ll be affected when we up your dosage.”

The muscles in Brooks’s neck threatened to snap. He took two steps forward. “Go to hell.”

One of the guard’s radio’s crackled. “It’s Olsen. We’ve found her and another man. On our way back to the tent now.”

Leonetti’s mouth stretched into a grin.

“Copy that,” the guard replied. “Over.”

“Well,” Leonetti said, slapping his palms together and rubbing them. “Let’s chat, shall we, Brooks?”

Just hearing his name on the sick doctor’s lips triggered his rage. For the entire time Brooks had been with Leonetti, the man had rarely used his name. Usually just the demeaning number—thirty-six. A constant reminder that he was nothing more than Leonetti’s property.

“Fuck you.” He stormed forward. The disgust he felt inside him was violent, and its branding heat spurred him on. This time he wouldn’t hold back. He’d rip Leonetti to shreds. The monster couldn’t hurt Cam if he was dead before she got here. She’d already endured too much because she’d helped him. She didn’t deserve all this, and he wouldn’t let Leonetti get within ten feet of her ever again.

Leonetti’s eyes darkened. “I have a bargaining tool you’ll want to meet. And your girlfriend isn’t going to want to miss this.”

Brooks slowed his pace. He stopped several feet from his target. Rage radiated from his head to his toes. Never in his life had he wanted to murder someone so badly—not even Conrad.

Leonetti’s eyes glimmered as if he held a royal flush.

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