Immersive Page 3

  My sight wavered, making the image of Ryker impossible to see. Then came a metallic click.

  “Now, Skervlong.”

  “You won’t shoot,” Skervvy replied in a stupidly amused tone. Was he really that dumb? “Boss’s orders.”

  “The boss ordered me to remove Lune from solitary confinement and have her cleaned up. He wants to see her. Now.”

  “I’ll do it. I’m the one who brought her in. I’ve got visiting privileges.”

  “Not anymore. She’s being transferred into my care, and if you don’t let her go in three seconds, I’ll have no choice but to report you.”

  Skervvy snarled. His forearm flexed against my windpipe and I saw stars.

  “Three.”

  I couldn’t breathe at all now. My eyes widened, but I couldn’t see.

  “Two.”

  A loud rush filled my ears.

  “One.”

  Everything fell away. The arms. The support. The ground. Pain spiked through my hip bone and shoulder as I reconnected with earth. I dragged in air to avoid passing out. My ears were still ringing, my eyes watery as someone began lifting me up. I threw an elbow back, which did absolutely nothing. My body was weaker than it had ever been before.

  But I could still speak. So I proceeded to do what I did best. “Put me down, you spineless, dumber-than-wood slimeball.” I paused to assess the insult. I could do better. “I’d rather be kissed by a vorax than breathe the same air as you.”

  I left the ground anyway as either Skervvy or Ryker swung me into his arms. At this point, I didn’t know which was worse. “When you least expect it,” I continued, “I’m going to find something pointy and skewer your—”

  “Shut up, Lune.”

  Ryker, then.

  “Don’t tell me to shut up,” I growled, rather weakly. To compensate, I added, “Jerkwad.”

  “Real mature.”

  “I don’t have to be,” I shot back, blinking until his stupid chin swam into view. “Apparently the only thing I have to do now is pop out a litter of babies.”

  Every inch of his body that was pressed against mine hardened. “That’s not going to happen.”

  Relief and hope tripped over themselves in my stomach. I hated how quickly my body wanted to believe his words. I knew better though. “What are you going to do? Carry me out of here and all the way back to Tatum City?” Acid dripped from my syrupy sweet tone.

  He glanced down at me with a frown. “Not exactly. I need you for something first.”

  I gaped for several seconds, unsure whether to laugh at him for thinking I’d actually help him or scream in his face for acting so calm after what he’d done to Bren. I settled on hissing, “Whatever you have planned, you can shove it. I’m done following you, listening to you, and helping you. Anything you command me to do, I’ll do the opposite.”

  “Not if you want to see him again.”

  It was as if he’d dropped me.

  My body fell, fell, fell and wouldn’t stop. My brain spun but couldn’t grasp the words. Their meaning. The implications. The emotions that I should be feeling. None of it was registering. I couldn’t think or breathe. My chest began to burn, but not from lack of air. No, it was anger. And hatred. Because this was the cruelest thing he’d ever done to me.

  “You’re lying.” I had meant to coat the statement in venom, not floundering hope. A stupid, foolish hope that he was telling the truth. That Bren was still alive.

  “I’m not lying.”

  Stars, the fire in my chest was too much.

  I struggled, albeit weakly, against his grip. “Put me down.”

  And, surprisingly, he did. As soon as my feet touched solid ground, my knees wobbled. I crumpled into a heap. I didn’t care. The floor was a whole lot cleaner than what I’d just left behind. I stared at the chipped, yellowed tiles, unable to place where I was—still not caring.

  “You’re lying,” I whispered again, but with even less conviction. I wanted his words to be true too much.

  A metallic clank reached my ears a second before water burst over me. My heart lurched into my throat. I instinctively flinched, expecting another stinging deluge. Awareness returned as the steady downpour warmed comfortably. The communal showers. I glared up at Ryker anyway, but didn’t find a smug expression or even a blank one. He was . . . he looked . . .

  Sympathetic.

  Screw your fake sympathy, you backstabber.

  His face settled into neutrality a moment later. “He’s alive.”

  My teeth chattered, but not from the cold. My adrenaline had come back. The urge to use it, to plunge into my ability and find Bren for myself—to make absolutely certain that he was alive—trembled through me. I hugged my knees to my chest in an attempt to keep myself from floating away. I didn’t trust Ryker to watch over my body while I searched, not as I had with Bren.

  Inhaling slowly, I straightened my spine and stared holes into Ryker. “Prove it.”

  His lips twitched as he crossed his arms. “I will. After you help me with something.”

  “How do I know this isn’t a trick?”

  Without warning, he tossed a small object at me. Wary, I almost batted it away, but my hand reflexively reached up and caught it. Heavier than I expected, I examined the metal object more closely. Copper. Round. Half the length of my thumb.

  A bullet.

  “That was in Bren’s back. I took it from beside his living, breathing body while the clan’s doctor wasn’t looking.”

  I dropped it.

  Clank, clank.

  The bullet rolled toward the shower drain.

  I slammed my palm on top of it. Why, I had no idea. This thing had been in Bren’s body, damaging precious parts of him. It was evil. Destructive. I hated it.

  But it was a piece of him.

  I carefully closed a fist around the bullet and cradled it to my chest.

  “This doesn’t prove anything,” I managed to croak.

  “It’s the best I can do for the time being. But I promise that you’ll see him if you agree to a task.”

  My eyes narrowed suspiciously as I looked up at him again. “What task?”

  Ryker glanced away, which was surprising enough. But when he violently shoved his hands into his pants pockets, his next words became that much more ominous. “You won’t like it, but it’s the only way you’re getting out of here.”

  “Ow!”

  “It’s just a shot. Suck it up.”

  “Yeah, but you’re doing it wrong. When was the last time you shot someone without intending to kill them?”

  “I’m not laughing. You’re not funny.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be.” I rolled my eyes, exaggerating the movement so the needle was no longer visible. After the vorax bites and scratches, I should be grateful that Ryker had thought to vaccinate me, but my hatred of needles dried up any thankful comments. Besides, thoughts of revenge were still forefront in my mind. If he could betray Bren—who supposedly used to be his friend—he could easily betray me again. My distrust of him had reached a whole new level. Pulling me out of a cell and cleaning me up didn’t equal absolution.

  As my legs dangled over the bathroom counter’s edge, suppressing the urge to kick him in the kneecap was difficult. I managed, only because I didn’t want him to jab me in the eye next with that needle. “So what’s in it for you?” I asked.

  “What?” He slid the needle out of my arm and pressed some gauze over the small puncture.

  “If I complete this task, what do you get out of it?”

  He hesitated, avoiding my gaze by fussing with a bandage. “I’ll possibly earn the Recruiter boss’s trust—or as close to trust as he gives. He needs to know where my allegiance lies or neither of us will be leaving this city.”

  “That’s something you should have thought about before killing two of his men. Or tying me up to a tree in the middle of nowhere. Was your plan to let me rot there? Maybe provide a snack for the local wildlife?”

  “No,
I was coming right back. No one was supposed to find you. But . . . my mission hasn’t exactly gone according to plan,” he grumbled, crouching to check the bite wound on my leg. “We should be in Tatum City by now.”

  “I’ve been stuck in here for two weeks. What took you so long?”

  “That’s how long it took to get an audience with the boss. His attention has been elsewhere and getting him to listen hasn’t been easy. He wants me to prove my loyalty and that takes time.”

  “I thought you were loyal to the Supreme Elite,” I couldn’t help quipping. “You also said you weren’t part of the clan anymore. Does Renold or the boss know about this task you want me to complete?”

  His eyes slowly rose to mine. Even from his hunched position, he was intimidating. I should have kept my mouth shut. “If you want to see Bren and get out of this city, then you’ll say nothing, absolutely nothing. You’re a nobody. A simple girl I found who has no clan or loyalties. If you open your mouth just once, just once, it could ruin everything.”

  Stars above, I wanted to snark all over his threatening words right now. It was physically painful to keep my lips sealed together. I managed to rein in the sarcasm, but was unable to stop myself from blurting the one question that had been plaguing me for the last two weeks. “Why did you give Bren to the Recruiter Clan?”

  He studied me for a long time. I refused to look away, even when tears threatened to well up from the intense staredown. Finally, finally, he said quietly, “We shouldn’t be discussing secrets in this building. But after you meet the boss and complete your first task, I will tell you, I promise. And my promises are binding.”

  First task? My suspicion radar was beeping loudly now.

  After a moment of tense silence—and failing to read his inscrutable expression—I sighed. “Fine. I don’t have the energy to bicker with you anyway. So what’s next?”

  “It’s time for you to eat something so you don’t pass out and ruin this whole operation.” He snapped the first aid kit shut and strode for the exit, pausing inside the doorway to glance over his shoulder. “Coming?”

  Typical Ryker. Didn’t offer me a hand down. Didn’t wait as he turned and disappeared around the corner. Sometimes his unpredictableness was predictable, and that could be used against him. I just had to figure out how to exploit it in case everything he said was a lie. In case he had no intention of letting me leave this place, and I was forced to break out everyone I cared for by myself.

  The gentle pitter-patter of rain hit me first. Then the musky smell of damp wood still burning. I tilted my head back, relishing the feel of raindrops rolling down my face as I greedily inhaled the fresh air. Although I was blindly walking into this meeting with the Recruiter Clan’s boss, I exhaled a relieved sigh at being allowed outside.

  My gratefulness switched to squirming discomfort when I opened my eyes and noticed that Ryker and I weren’t alone. A certifiable horde of tattooed, mostly bearded men observed me with mixed expressions—none of them kind. Some were neutral while others leered menacingly. And some smirked, perusing my body with their eyes, their intentions more than clear.

  Not wanting to appear weak, I straightened to my full height, planting my feet shoulder-width apart. Immediately, my thighs shook with the effort. I curled my hands into fists, raising my chin. I was no longer starving, but days without food and rest had taken their toll. A good strong wind would no doubt topple me over.

  I am not weak. Show no fear. I sifted through every chant I’d ever told myself.

  But I was a lone female surrounded by testosterone-driven males. Underneath the charred odor of wood burning in waist-high barrels, I could practically smell their hormones raging. No wonder the women were locked up—not just to keep them from running away, but for their own safety.

  Were any of these men Berserkers? If they had the Sensor gene, that would make them little more than predators, controlled by their mutant abilities. They could be regular, unmutated humans too, but I somehow doubted that. The gleam in their eyes was too feral. Animal.

  Strong fingers wrapped around my bicep. Under less hostile circumstances, I would have yanked my arm away. But, for the time being, I welcomed the touch. It reminded me that I wasn’t completely alone. Hopefully.

  “They are under orders not to touch you,” Ryker’s voice rumbled in my ear. He spoke louder for the next part. “And if they do, they will lose a hand.”

  Once again, if I weren’t surrounded by a pack of barely restrained, hungry-looking men, I would have reacted—this time with a wicked smile. I expected the twenty or so men to lead us someplace out of the rain, but no one moved. They were waiting for something—or someone.

  An uneasy silence settled over the group as the minutes ticked by. Strands of dark red hair clung to my cheeks. I didn’t dare brush them aside and draw even more attention to myself. Thunder rumbled in the distance, buzzing through the soles of my boots.

  And then, as if responding to a silent command, the men suddenly parted. Ryker tightened his hold on my arm. A bear of a man strode into the clearing, his wide shoulders almost knocking into the men on either side of him. When he spotted me, he paused. Even with the sky a bleak gray and the flickering fires casting eerie shadows across his face, I could make out the color of his eyes.

  They were shockingly blue. Surrounded by a ring of black.

  And they were smiling at me with pure delight.

  I would have passed out on the spot, uncaring if my head smacked against the fissured cement at my feet, if it weren’t for the death grip on my arm.

  Because it was Ryker.

  His eyes were staring back at me from an older version of himself. A version that had a full beard and dark blond hair pulled back into a messy bun. With the shiny gold loop in his left ear, tattoos running up both bare forearms, and gun belt hung loosely at his waist, he looked like a pirate from the book I’d been reading. Despite all that, the eyes, heavy brows, and strong nose were exactly the same as Ryker’s.

  This must be his father.

  And since the man commanded every last drop of attention from the men around him . . .

  Holy crap, was Ryker the boss’s son?

  “Apologies for not coming to see you sooner, lass, but I’ve been a bit busy as of late with a newly returned clansman,” the man said in a deep voice almost identical to Ryker’s but with a decidedly more jovial tone. “How did none of my men stumble across a pretty thing like you all these years?”

  “I told you,” Ryker replied before I could—not that I was going to. “I found her south of here, just past Tatum City, hiding in a secluded grotto. She’s been living off the land and is trained in weapons. An excellent choice.”

  The burly man eyed me head to toe as if sizing up a breeding mare. Which was why I didn’t refute Ryker’s words. Didn’t even breathe. If this was Ryker’s father, he was in charge of the “Operation Mutant Baby” program. Stars, I wouldn’t let that good-natured smile fool me.

  But there was something else, too. Something familiar that had nothing to do with Ryker and everything to do with the way he looked at me. Goosebumps pricked my skin beneath the clean white shirt I wore.

  He crossed his beefy arms the same way I’d seen Ryker do countless times and finally focused on his son, freeing me from his heavy gaze. “So how is it that she was dragged in by Tom Skervlong?” he asked. “Why not bring her here when you showed up on my doorstep with my wayward son?”

  Wait. His wording didn’t make sense. It implied that he had another son. And the only person I could think of was . . . Bren. Unease churned in my stomach. Bren’s parents were dead. Drowned. Murdered by the Recruiter Clan. Nothing made sense anymore. My knees wobbled and I quickly locked them before I went crashing to the ground.

  “She is fiery and headstrong,” Ryker said, but with a slight edge this time. “I couldn’t carry Bren and manage her at the same time. But she will learn. As for Skervlong, he’s been stalking what is mine for weeks now. He stole her from me the firs
t chance he got.”

  Ryker’s father lifted a meaty hand to stroke his beard. “So you found a girl with spirit. Just like your mother, eh, boy?” He chuckled, then threw back his head and roared with laughter, clapping the shoulder of the man next to him. The other men joined in until the only two not participating were me and Ryker.

  The laughter died as quickly as it began. The boss crossed his arms again and smirked at his son. “Always so serious. Are you sure you’re mine, boy?” Ryker’s grip on my arm tightened to the point of pain. I started to pull free when words directed my way stopped me cold. “Is it true then, lass? Are you willingly giving yourself to my son?”

  Willingly giving—

  Wait. What?

  Everything stilled then—the clansmen, the rain, my heart—as I registered what he said. Time itself paused as the man closely watching my every move waited for an answer. But my lips were frozen shut, my mind stuck on a loop.

  Ryker had warned me not to speak. Said I had to go along with everything that happened if I wanted to see Bren again. But this? I didn’t know what “willingly giving yourself” meant exactly, but my imagination was doing a good job of guessing.

  The moment of indecision lasted a second too long. The boss’s two-toned eyes narrowed. Then, ever so slightly, Ryker shifted. That small movement might as well have been a shove. He was nervous. Ryker was nervous.

  If I said no, what would happen? Even scarier than that, what would happen if I said yes? But decision time was over. Every instinct shouted at me to run, but I couldn’t. And so . . . and so I jerked my chin in a sharp nod of affirmation.

  Crap.

  The man chuckled. Then said two words that shot ice through my veins. “Prove it.”

  I wasn’t given time to fully digest his command. In the next instant, Ryker whirled me toward him. My weak knees buckled, but he slid an arm around my waist, pulling me tightly to his chest. I stiffened, preparing to shove him away, to growl at him for manhandling me, but his hand lifted and gripped the nape of my neck. My eyes flew to his in surprise.