Page 143 of Juniper Unraveling

“Where are the others?” His second question brings a frown to my face.

I truly have no idea what he’s asking. “What others?”

“Don’t play stupid, little girl. We still have your boyfriend.” He pinches his chin in contemplation. “What did you call him again? Six?”

Rigs, Tinker, and Tripp must’ve gotten away. That, or Rhys gave himself over for them and is likely suffering the brutal torture for his sacrifice at this very moment.

I can’t think about that right now. I have to stay focused. Level-headed. Clever.

Again, I opt for silence, preferring to let him believe I know more than I do.

“Doesn’t matter.” Arms crossed, Albert shrugs. “We’ll find them. And when we do, they’ll suffer the same fate as your little boyfriend. So drop the gun.”

“Where is he?” Thoughts of Rhys have snaked their way into my voice, making it sound too frail for the anger bulleting through my veins.

“Would you like to see him?”

“What did you do, Albert?”

“The question is, dear Wren, what did you do? You are the one wearing my brother’s uniform, correct?” His eyes scan downward then back up. “Where is Ivan?”

I’m surprised he doesn’t already know. “Damian didn’t tell you?”

“Damian is dead. Conveniently shot by a woman before she took off.”

They have no idea what Six did to Ivan, because I’m certain they’d subject him to the same fate if they did. “I’ll tell you where to find your brother, if you let Six go.”

“My brother’s dead. I have no doubts about that. You wouldn’t be wearing his uniform, if he weren’t. I was simply curious if you’d tell me yourself. So, let’s stop wasting time, shall we? I’m sure you’re anxious to see Loverboy, right? Now drop the gun.”

Two guards step forward, each one grabbing an arm and squeezing my biceps, and for a brief moment, I’m transported back to all those years ago, when Ivan led me out to the Ragers pen. The gun falls out of my hand, clanking against the too-white tiles. And this is how my nightmares began all those years ago—reaching the point of capture without a plan.

“You won’t find anything in Doctor Falkenrath’s lab,” Albert says over his shoulder, while his goons drag me down the hall. “We pretty much cleared out all the specimens. Never seen so many brains in one place. The pheromone injections have been quite useful out in the Deadlands.”

I don’t say anything, and instead keep my eyes forward, as we walk the familiar hallways that lead to S block.

Once through the doors, the air shifts. It grows thicker. More suffocating. And colder. So cold, I’m shivering.

Screams echo down the hallway, so many of them at once, it’s impossible to make out the sound of Six’s. If he’s still screaming, at all.

Perhaps he’s already dead, and this false hope will be the cruelty I suffer before my own demise.

“You should know, he was our best subject,” Albert prattles on ahead of me. “He not only walked among the Ragers, but they actually feared him. Or so my father tells me. That was a bit before my time. Still, this place hasn’t had another like him.”

“Maybe because you assholes kill them.”

“That’s true. Shooting ourselves in the foot that way.”

Albert stops before a room—one I recognize as a post-op, or recovery, room, with narrow bays divided by thin curtains, but this one is much more grim. Women lay strapped to beds, some kicking and screaming, others staring blankly at the ceiling. Beside one of the beds where a woman lies seizing, stretching her restraints, a large canister looking object bubbles with fluid, and inside, a small baby floats in the water, curled into a ball.

Third generation.

“We’ve begun harvesting stem cells. Soon they’ll begin human trials,” Albert says beside me.

My stomach twists at the sight, and I swallow hard to stifle the bile inching up my throat. I could’ve been one of them, if not for Papa.

Seemingly satisfied with his torment, the bastard keeps on down the hall.

We come to a stop before a door, and Albert nabs hold of my arm, releasing me from the other guards. “Look for the others. Find them, and bring them to me, here.”