Page 60 of Hide or Die

He didn’t reply, because his words hadn’t been a suggestion—and Beckett did not engage in debates when it came to orders. Swallowing my misgivings, I circled around the car and got in the back. We drove away, leaving the precinct and the cops behind, along with their slurs and hate-filled gazes.

Leona, barefoot and dressed in a shapeless tunic, stared with unfocused eyes at the back of the seat in front of her. Montreal was waking up around us, traffic growing heavier as the morning crawled sluggishly toward business hours. She didn’t speak. Didn’t look out the window. Didn’t blink. Her face was an ugly shade of gray, her lips tinged bluish.

I couldn’t get anything useful from her scent. She was back on suppressors, of course. Instead, I reluctantly lifted a hand and brushed the backs of my fingers against her cheek. Her skin was chilly to the touch, like wax.

“Crank the heater,” I said. “She’s freezing cold.”

Air blasted from the vents, quickly growing warm. Beckett fiddled with the center vents, aiming them through the gap between the front seats. Leona shivered as the hot air hit her skin, curling into herself.

Scent or no scent, the aura of unhappy omega drove a knife through my alpha instincts, bringing back memories I’d worked hard to bury. I was not the right person for this job. Beckett should have brought Jax, or Flynn. I made a not-very-successful attempt to modulate my scent into something reassuring. Scooting close enough for our upper arms to brush, I sat stiffly next to the omega who’d cupped my cheek in her soft hand as she shed tears for the pain of my long-ago loss.

By the time Beckett pulled into a long-term parking lot at Dorval Airport, Leona’s waxy chill had given way to shivering and chattering teeth. She still showed no sign of real awareness of her surroundings. I’d covered her with my jacket for extra warmth, and tried to get some water into her from the bottle Beckett handed back to me. I was sure Flynn would have had her wrapped up against his chest by now, soothing her with his body heat and an alpha purr. I... couldn’t, and I wasn’t sure what kind of monster that made me.

We weren’t here to catch a flight. Beckett pulled in next to an unremarkable tan Toyota with Vermont plates, and we transferred to the other car. Within moments, we were back on the road. We crossed first the St. Lawrence River, and then the Canal de Beauharnois, taking Highway 138 southwest into New York, where we once again changed cars. Beckett continued south on NY-30, through the city of Malone and into the wilder areas at the northern edge of the Adirondacks.

We passed Lake Titus and entered the Deer River Primitive Area. Beckett turned onto a private road skirting the edge of Lake Duane. The gravel drive wound through old growth trees and grassy clearings, until eventually a house came into view. It was two stories, built into the side of a hill that overlooked the lake below. The outside gave the impression of someone’s extravagant vacation home that had been left to fall into disrepair. The area around it was overgrown, and the cedar siding was weathered.

A white Jeep Cherokee sat parked in the weed-infested circle drive. Beckett pulled up behind it and killed the engine.

“Home sweet home, until we figure out next steps,” he said. “Let’s get Ms. McCready inside. You’ll need to carry her—this gravel would tear up her feet pretty bad.”

I firmed my jaw. “Right.”

No sooner had I gotten Leona unbuckled and scooped her out of the back seat, holding her bridal-style, than Flynn came rushing out of the front door.

“You got her,” he said with obvious relief. Before I quite knew what was happening, he’d lifted her out of my arms and into his own. “How bad off is she? What did they do to her?”

“It’s just shock,” I said stupidly. “You’ll need to treat her for shock.”

Flynn nodded and carried her into the house, staring down at her like he could hardly believe she was here. I followed in something of a daze, registering that the inside of the place was a lot nicer than the outside would have suggested. Before Beckett had time to close the front door behind us, a familiar slender, dark-haired omega came hurrying into the entryway, with Jax following behind at a slower pace.

“Leo!” Kameron Patel said breathlessly.

Leona let out an ugly, gulping gasp like someone surfacing from drowning, and squirmed in Flynn’s hold. He set her on her feet and she stumbled forward, half-falling into her packmate’s arms.

“Kam,” she said faintly, burying herself in his tight embrace. “Oh, god. Is this a dream?”

And,fuck. I needed—suddenly and desperately—not to be inside this house.

“I’ll check the perimeter,” I said hoarsely, before fleeing the scene—leaving behind the two sweet, soft-eyed omegas who’d barely managed to escape the same fate that had claimed Irina.

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