Page 35 of Haven

Caden.

Jackson was right about him. We never should have let him get away, knowing what he knows about New Haven.

I’m a hostage, and they’re going to use me to try to get inside our gates and ransack everything we have inside.

I scan the size of the pack again quickly, fighting back the panic that keeps rising inside me. My stomach churns, and I’ve broken out in a cold sweat, but I count the numbers and it reassures me. Fewer than a dozen of them. And they have a lot of weapons and a few motorcycles.

Not enough.

There’s not nearly enough manpower and firepower here to lay a siege on New Haven.

“You’re going to get yourself and all your buddies here killed,” I spit out at Caden, pleased that my voice is level and unbroken. “You don’t have even a chance of getting inside with these numbers.”

“I know that,” Caden says, giving me the worst sort of smirk. “But we have the secret ingredient. We have you.”

When he comes closer to me and picks up a strand of my hair, I jerk my head away hard enough to free my hair. “You’re crazy. It’s never going to work. They won’t open the gates just because I’m in danger.”

“I think you’re wrong about that. I lived with you all, remember? Jack would do anything to keep you safe.”

I’m in a weird crisis state where I’m thinking and speaking and acting almost on autopilot. Like the surface level of me is still functioning even while my deepest parts are howling in fear and despair. “I’m not wrong. You can hold a gun to my head, and Jackson will still never open the gate for you. But I wouldn’t want to be in his line of fire if you tried something so stupid.”

I’m sure I’m right about this, but Caden just laughs, so doubt creeps into my consciousness anyway.

Then he pulls his arm back and punches me in the face in exactly the same place that Jackson hit him with the butt of his rifle.

After that, the pain and dizziness overwhelm me. I don’t pass out, but I’m kind of out of it for a while. I’m slumped over, held on my feet by one gross, smelly guy. If my hands weren’t bound, I might be able to reach the gun in his belt holster, but the bindings are too strong for me to break.

When I see them drag over Brett’s limp body—part of me cries inside at the sight of him so obviously dead—and pull off his clothes, I have no idea what’s happening. Not until I’m vaguely aware of Caden putting the clothes on.

That’s when I get really terrified.

Because they aren’t as clueless as I assumed, and there is a very slight chance here of getting our people to open the gates to New Haven for them voluntarily.

My cheekbone is throbbing with pain, but my mind is a little clearer. I’m trying to work out a plan. A response. A signal. Something to make the danger clear to Gail and whomever else Jackson got to fill in for Brett at the gate.

But then Caden comes over and tapes up my mouth so I can’t make any sound. He punches me again, and the world gets dim and fuzzy once more.

There’s a lot of motion but not much talk. They’ve obviously worked out the details of this plan in advance.

Our only advantage here is the fact that there aren’t any hiding places close to the gate. It’s a stretch of clear dirt road and grass. The woods have grown up closer than they used to be, and the group walks their motorcycles through the trees, as near to the gate as they can get and remain hidden. But the Pack is going to have a fairly significant distance to travel from their hiding place before they can reach the gate even if the deception fools the guards.

I keep trying to work out details. Trying to come up with a plan. But mostly I’m just chanting over and over again like a prayer. “Jackson, please. Jackson, please. Jackson, please.”

He seemed worried about me earlier. Maybe he’ll be waiting for me. He’ll see that something isn’t right. He won’t let them open the gate.

Before I know it, it’s happening. Caden pulls the elastic out of my ponytail and cuts the binding on my wrists. I don’t know why until he punches me in the gut, causing me to slump forward. He puts an arm around me to support me. My hair falls over my face.

I understand why when he starts to walk, moving me with him.

He’s got Brett’s clothes and hat on. And I look like I’m injured. My hair is covering the tape on my mouth. From a distance—and maybe even close up—it’s going to look like Brett is carrying me back after being wounded.

Of course they’ll open the gates. They’ll do it quickly to get me inside and tend to my injuries.

It’s a ridiculous plan made by heartless men. But it might actually work.

The urgency propels me into action. Despite the cloud of pain in my head, I try to struggle. But Caden has my arms in a tight grip, and he’s so much bigger than me. I just can’t pull free.

I try to scream through the tape on my mouth but can’t make a sound past a choked whimper.

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