Page 9 of Hide or Die

“Leo,” Kam gasped.

Hands tugged at the belt holding me suspended upside down, fighting with the release mechanism to no avail. I blinked, trying to bring my surroundings into focus, but the shapes no longer made sense. Where the driver should have been sitting, there was just twisted metal. I blinked, nauseated by the odd delay between my eyes moving and the change of perspective registering in my brain.

The front passenger side door had been sheared away, leaving it open to the outside. The seat was still there, and a burly form hung from it, upside down as I was. The alpha security guard—Jax, my brain helpfully supplied—groaned and coughed. At least he was still alive. Red liquid dripped from his side, landing on the inside of the limo’s roof in a steadyplop, plop, plop.

“We’ve got to get you free,” Kam said tightly. “Leo, damn it—pleasesaysomething!”

“Ow,” I managed faintly, not able to get enough breath past the constriction of the jammed seatbelt for more.

In the front seat, Jax groaned again, the sound trailing off to a low rumble of discontent. His hands scrabbled weakly at his own chest, with no real coordination. Outside, the skull-rattling sound of automatic weapons fire subsided. I could hear car engines pulling up. It sounded like they were right next to us.

“Oh, god,” Kam whispered.

Car doors slammed. Voices filtered through the gaps where parts of the car had been ripped away, but I couldn’t understand what was being said. The words made no sense. It was a foreign language, but not Romanian. Turkish, maybe?

I blinked stupidly, still hanging from the seat like a landed fish. The muzzle of a gun entered through the missing passenger door, pointed directly at Jax’s face.

“Don’t shoot,” Kam said. “Please. They’re injured.”

It was the same calm voice he’d been using when I’d returned from dancing at the party last night to find Kostya Nikolayev looming over him—the one that meant he was barely holding it together.

The gunman used the muzzle of the pistol to nudge Jax’s cheek roughly. The alpha moaned, but did not stir otherwise. The man withdrew, and a loud, fast-paced conversation ensued. Within seconds, the limo rocked beneath us as hands tugged and yanked at the mostly intact backseat door on Kam’s side until it creaked open on protesting hinges.

Kam immediately lifted his hands in surrender, placing his body in front of mine. “They’re injured,” he said again, and then repeated the words in French. Two men dragged him out through the half-open door. As he disappeared from my field of view, a spike of fear finally managed to penetrate the woolen blanket of shock smothering my emotions.

In the front of the limo, a man sawed away at the seatbelt restraining Jax’s body, until he finally fell free with a thump. Another slid into the back seat and started doing the same thing to my seatbelt. I made out several people pulling the alpha out of the car, clearly struggling with his muscular bulk. Then my belt gave way and I tumbled down, the sudden jolt of hitting the roof too much for my wavering consciousness to deal with.

Darkness claimed me, even as a rough hand closed around my ankle and started to drag me out of the door.

* * *

The next time I woke, there was a heavy bag tied over my head, and whatever hard surface I was sprawled on was jouncing and jolting. I could hear engine noise, and that sparked a vague memory of off-road vehicles.

Panic slithered through my guts, but a familiar smooth-skinned hand was tangled with mine.

Kam.

I squeezed his fingers, and heard him catch his breath before he squeezed back convulsively. A moment later, the vehicle hit a massive bump. My stomach dipped, and awareness fled once more.

Consciousness came in fits and starts after that. Kam was always there, the clammy sweat of fear slicking our skin where his hand clasped mine. Eventually, the darkness grew complete as my mind apparently gave up the fight for a bit. When I came to, the bag and the engine noise were gone. The hard surface beneath me no longer swayed and bounced.

The air was faintly chilly, damp with humidity and the smell of stone. Kam’s fingers were no longer tangled with mine, and that was enough to send me struggling upright, trying to blink my vision into focus despite the sharp, throbbing ache in my temple.

“She’s awake.” The hoarse voice came from somewhere off to my left. It sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

Footsteps scuffled, and someone crouched next to me, a hand coming to rest on my shoulder. “Leo.”

I relaxed. “Kam. Where...?” The rest of the words caught in my dry throat, making me cough.

“Don’t try to talk yet,” he said softly. “Stay put for a minute—I’ll get you some water.”

I tried to take in my surroundings as he pushed up from the floor and crossed to the other side of the dimly lit space. Three of the walls appeared to be natural rock, and the floor was packed dirt. The fourth wall looked like plaster... or maybe concrete? It had a heavy-looking metal door set in the middle. A small, barred opening at head height let in the only light—the harsh sodium-yellow glow of a light bulb hanging from the ceiling outside.

Another figure sat slumped against the far wall. Gradually, my omega eyesight sharpened, adjusting to the dimness, and I recognized our alpha escort, Jax. His gaze met mine, impossibly blue, but dulled by a sheen of pain and weakness.

Kam returned, crouching beside me with a bucket and a ladle. I tried to look him over, but he was backlit from the light in the hallway.

“Are you hurt?” I rasped. Everything was hazy, but I had a vague memory of a spectacular car wreck.

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