Page 162 of Strays
I glance back toward the glass. “But first, make sure the fucker can’t move an inch,” I say.
When we enter the office again, Jay grabs the duct tape from the desk and wraps one strip around Aranya’s chest, binding him to the chair back, then presses another strip firmly across his mouth.
He glares at us, but he doesn’t make a sound.
We exit the warehouse together. Shane pulls the busted door mostly shut behind us. It’s not perfect. Up close, you can see the warped frame and the broken hinge, but I don’t care. We just need it to look undisturbed long enough for whoever’s coming not to get spooked before they park.
Jay glances up and whistles low, just once. A figure shifts from behind a delivery truck across the lot. Solomon.
We jog toward him, taking cover under the truck too.
“All the garrison is here,” he says. “Your nyra’s uncles too.” He nods toward the far end of the block. “We’ve got eyes on every approach.”
I look around, clocking the ones I can see from here. One pack is stationed in the alley on the west side, tucked behind a stacked set of pallets. Three more figures crouch on the roof of the adjacent warehouse, their silhouettes barely visible against the sky.
We wait.
Ten minutes. Then fifteen. Every muscle in my body is tight, coiled like wire.
Then headlights swing around the corner, low and steady. Another silver sedan, the same model that rounded our house for days.
“That’s it,” Jay mutters, already crouched lower.
I nod once, eyes locked on the car as it rolls into the lot. Shane lets out a sharp breath. His eyes track the vehicle like a wolf scenting blood.
The windows have a deep black tint, no way to see through the glass, but the lily scent hit me and my heart skips a beat. It’s faint, it’s distant, but I know it’s her.
My heart bolts, my body trembles, my head spins. She’s there, almost within my reach.
Shane jolts beside me, reacting to her scent too. Jay inhales hard and exhales like he’s been hit. I can feel their bodies shaking, just as mine.
We’ll take her back.
We’ll take her back.
We’ll take her back.
I force my body to release calming pheromones. In one second, Shane and Jay are breathing deep and slow too. It’s hard to focus, it’s hard to calm down, but we need our heads clear now more than ever.
We exchange glances, nodding to each other in sync.
The sedan stops in the parking lot. The headlights cut, the engine ticks. Then stillness. No one gets out.
We hold.
The driver’s door opens, and a man calmly steps out, with one hand on the door, the other in his jacket. Then the passenger gets out slowly, a taller man with a gun tucked behind his waistband. Still, no one opens the back.
They’re hesitating. Or stalling. Maybe they think Aranya will walk out any second and take Jo himself. Maybe this is just how they do handoffs.
When the driver pulls a phone from his pocket, I know we need to move.
Jay vaults the side of the truck like a loaded spring. Shane flanks right, silent and fast. I’m right behind them.
The car's driver barely registers us before Jay hits him with one clean strike to the temple. He drops like a bag of bones, body slumping into the gravel.
The passenger lunges, gun half-drawn, but Shane’s already there. Two hits: one to the ribs, one to the face, and the man folds, choking on blood.
I’m at the rear door before they hit the ground.
