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“You fucking prick!” Cadmus slams his hands into the cage, and I’m certain, if there was a way inside, every Alpha would tear this asshole apart, just like the mutations.

“I’d wish you a good life, but I’m afraid yours has come to an end.” He shoves the case back into his pack and slides it over his shoulder. The moment he spins around, reaching up for the rung above him, an object flies through the bars of the cage and lodges itself into his exposed flank. A look of shock colors his face as he stumbles backward, staring down at the hilt of the blade sticking out of him.

I turn to see Titus flicking his fingers for Cadmus’s blade.

He tosses the second knife, and it sinks into the man’s stomach, throwing him backward.

Into the bars of the cage behind him.

Mangled hands reach out, digging fingers into his flesh, and his bellows reverberate through the tunnel. From below, his foot is yanked backwards into the small gap beneath the cage, and eyes wide, he screams.

I grimace at the unnatural bending of his foot, slapping a hand over my mouth to contain the sickness stirring inside of me.

Jed falls forward to his knees, and reaches toward the pack with one hand, while the mutations hold the other. His fingertips disappear inside, and as he pulls out a pill bottle, his arm is tugged through the bars, the cracking and splintering of bone forcing me to slap my hands over my ears. The pill bottle falls out of reach, while his body is yanked backward, flat against the bars once more. One arm is torn away. A hand punches through his ribcage, bloodied and claws flexing. I turn away from the gore, until the screaming dies down, and Jed is hanging limp from the cage, already half-consumed.

Beside us, the dog stands hunched and growling toward the opposite direction again.

Chapter 30

Wren

I prop the blade I packed from Papa’s house beneath Gregor’s throat, grinding my teeth to keep me from slicing it across his windpipe.

“I … swear to you, Wren. I had nothing to do with this. He betrayed me, too.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you? They’re going to die in there!” My eyes are brimming with tears that I blink away for the rage seething through my blood. “You tell me how I can get them out. And you tell me now, or I’ll take pleasure in watching you bleed all over this desk.”

“The only way they are opening that gate is if they can somehow reach that lever. It doesn’t matter how strong they are, that lever is the only thing that moves the gate up and down.”

Keeping the knife to his throat, I push the button on the keyboard. “Six! Can you hear me?”

“Hey, Little Bird.” His voice is somber, defeated. A sound that tears at my heart, springing more tears to my eyes.

“You have to find a way to pull that lever on the other side. It’s the only way to open that gate.”

“It’s out of reach, Wren.”

“You have to loop something around it. Maybe one of the straps on your packs?”

“The strap isn’t long enough. It won’t reach.”

“Then, make it long enough! Tie every fucking strap together, if you have to, Six. But don’t you dare give up. Not now.” A pause follows, my body shaking with adrenaline, as I mentally push away the visuals of those faceless Ragers finding them, just like in my nightmares.

“I’m not giving up.” He lifts his pack, and I see him tear away both sides where the strap is sewn, giving about twelve inches of fabric. “Tear off your straps. We’re going to tie them together.”

They shrug out of their packs and tear away the straps as instructed, handing them to Six, who ties them together in one long strand and forms a lasso at the end of it.

Holding the long rope through the bars of the cage, Six readies the lasso, letting it hang loose at his fingers.

I release Gregor, keeping my blade pointed at him, as I take a seat in front of the computer. “Do you remember when I taught you how to use the slingshot?” Through tears, I chuckle at the memory of that day, watching him wind up the rock, and nail every target as if he’d done it a hundred times before.

“I do.”

“Let’s see some of that magic.”

Arms through the bars, he swings the lasso back and forth, building up a small bit of momentum, and tosses it upward.

I hold my breath when it just misses the end of the lever. “Again. Try again.”