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Lincoln kicked his feet, his attention snapping to the door.
I looked over my shoulder as the three guys finally caught up to me. Brandon grabbed the side of the door, gasping for breath, and Mark and Ian hurried in. One of them mumbled something under their breath about Lincoln’s condition. I wasn’t sure which one it was, but they were echoing my sentiments exactly.
Lincoln wiggled and yanked on his confines. “The switch to lower me is over there. Just push the green button.”
He nodded to a fixture on the wall with two buttons, one red and the other green.
Ian rushed past me and went to the spot Lincoln was talking about. He hit the green button, which made a humming noise fill the room as Lincoln started to lower to the floor. I stood in front of him, waiting for his legs to hit the ground. As soon as they did, I got to work releasing the chains and rope securing him.
I had to stand on my tiptoes to reach, and my fingers kept fumbling with the bindings.
Brandon pushed off the door as he sucked in a deep breath. He took a few steps forward as he wiggled out of a backpack. I didn’t even realize that he was carrying one. It looked heavy and landed on the ground with a smack.
He pulled some sort of tool out of it and turned it on. It made a whispering sound as the blade on it whirled around.
“Here, just make sure he doesn’t fall or move. I got the chains.” He positioned the blade on the chains above Lincoln’s wrists.
Sparks flew, and a blaring swooshing filled the barn as the tool cut through the chain like butter.
Lincoln pitched forward into me. I stumbled backwards and would’ve fallen over had Mark not been standing right behind me to hold me steady.
Lincoln’s scent washed over me, and I breathed him in. The tension left my limbs, and I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close. It was going to be okay. We were together now. Once Sawyer was back with us, we would be unstoppable.
Brandon turned the tool off and stooped down to put it back in his bag.
Mark and Ian helped me with the chains and rope. It took us a few minutes, but when the last chain hit the floor with a resounding thud, all the worry left me. He was free.
I put a hand on Lincoln’s cheek and gave him a soft smile as our eyes met. “Do you think you can shift and run?”
Lincoln grimaced as he attempted to get to his feet. “Probably not. Mikey was in here not too long ago and gave me a shot full of more wolfsbane. I’m not sure I can.”
I bit the inside of my cheek as I helped pull him up. He’d dosed him up so he couldn’t heal. That bastard had intended to come back and continue torturing him. Red clouded my vision.
Lincoln wobbled on his feet, and I grasped him tighter so he wouldn’t fall.
Mark moved to Lincoln’s side, grabbed one of his arms, and threw it over his shoulder. “Then we’re walking out of here as fast as we can. We need to get moving.”
I took Lincoln’s other arm and wrapped it around my shoulder. Ian and Brandon went to the door and peered outside.
After a moment, Brandon took a step out into the crisp morning air, looked back at us, and waved us on. “Come on. The coast is clear.”
We hobbled forward. Lincoln seemed to be limping on one of his legs, but I wasn’t entirely sure which one. He might’ve been alternating between the two.
Lincoln grunted as we moved. “Sorry, my legs are asleep. They should wake up here soon.”
Mark adjusted him so he was bearing more of his weight. “It’s okay. We got you. How long were you hanging like that?”
Lincoln brows knitted together like he was trying to think. “What time is it?”
My stomach dropped. He’d probably been like that since Mikey’s visit, whenever that was. His brother had taken pleasure in making Lincoln as uncomfortable as possible. His only reprieve had probably been when Sawyer was with him.
My poor Lincoln.
Mark must’ve sensed the same thing as I did. He blew out a long breath that turned into a low growl. “It’s fine. Just do the best you can.”
Lincoln stumbled his way towards the trees. His knee kept giving out on him, and Mark was a trooper, making sure Lincoln didn’t face-plant onto the ground.
Once we hit the tree line, Lincoln started falling into rhythm with us, and we moved faster, almost at a jog. The limp wasn’t as pronounced, and he was bearing more of his weight.
