Hunted (A Sinners Series Book 2) (42 page)

But I’m done losing people I love.

I press my head into Cole’s shirt, completely oblivious to anything and everything around me but the smell of lead, blood, and his sweat all mixed together. Grace is gone, and our small group doesn’t even have time to think straight, let alone regroup.

The moment we need the most privacy and peace is the moment everything blows up. Bullets hammer the walls, and everyone drops down in a single motion. I jump in my skin, as if being woken from my worst nightmare. But it’s not a dream. My hands release Cole’s shirt, knuckles white from grasping. We both fumble for our guns. My attention turns toward the doorway to the office, now riddled with puncture holes. Bill fires back even as tears streak his face.

Bruno hovers over Grace’s body and doesn’t move an inch. I watch as the tendons flex in his jaw and his grip tightens on her. He doesn’t seem to notice the outbreak of hell around him or even care. I meet Cole’s red eyes. We’re both thinking the same thing.

We can’t count on Bruno to make the decisions right now.

I swallow my tears, laying aside my broken heart, and flick my attention toward Roméo. As the sounds of metallic bangs grow closer, Cole joins Bill in the doorframe, ducking in and out to fire.

“The files!” I shout over the noise. “Did you find them?”

“No,” Roméo says. He blinks back his tears, and I quickly shove past him.

“Okay, I’ll look.”

I don’t wait for him to react before ransacking the closet. I toss everything useless aside. The gunfire becomes more intense, and my hands shake as I dig down into each box, pushing away old books and relics. Dust poofs up around me, and panic rises in my chest when I find nothing.

Finally, after the third box, I find files inside, nestled at the bottom. My hands work furiously through them. I can barely read through my blurred vision.

Holy crap.

At the top of each file it says: Name, brand, age at the time of entrance into the Hole, diagnosis, and date of death. Underneath each of these, in Sutton’s own handwriting, is a list of symptoms and possibilities.

God, why didn’t he tell me?

“Roméo,” I say. “Check these out.”

Finally, he rushes in beside me, his lips quivering and his skin pale with fear. He scans the paperwork. At first, he says nothing.

“Please tell me these’re the right ones!” My voice comes out scratchy and angry.

“Yes. Yes,” he says. He kneels down and begins shoving handfuls of files into his backpack.

“We’re losing ground!” I hear Cole shout. “Do you have them?”

“Yes!” I scream back at him. “Bill, I need you.”

Bill shows up in the closet, his face coated with tears, sweat, and ash. Dark rings puff out from his eyes, and he gives me a despondent look.

“Your pack,” I say. He stands there, frozen. “Bill, your pack!” He jumps to action and hands me his backpack.

I begin shoving files in, scanning as I go. Then I land on the one I want to find—Alyssa Jenkins.

Amber was right.

“No,” I say, my cheeks heating.

“Lusty, you all right?”

I don’t answer.

“I’ll take that as a no. I’ll get the rest of them.” He immediately kneels and picks up where I left off.

Outside, there’s constant gunfire. Cole returns it. Zeus’s bark is hoarse. Bruno sobs over Grace’s lifeless body. I quickly scan the handwritten record in front of me. I do my best to concentrate, just keep it together.

Alyssa Jenkins, Yellow for Greed, eight years old, virus: unknown, thirteen years.

My heart stops in my chest; my breathing slows. My hands shake even though I will them to be steady. Down below, her symptoms are written in plain language along with Sutton’s facts about her condition, but I don’t have time to read them.

I skim down to the last part, where it says the date of her death.

Alyssa Jenkins: Exact cause of death unknown. My professional opinion: Unknown Virus.

“We’ve gotta get out of here!” Cole shouts. He shoots, and the sound brings me back to reality. I shove the paper into Bill’s backpack along with the others and zip it closed.

“Ready!” I shout. “Let’s go.”

Bill slings the sack over his shoulders and groans. Roméo does the same, sagging under the weight. There’s no time to talk or lament our losses, only to run.

I come out of the closet after the others. My eyes meet Bruno’s. He’s still holding Grace, but his expression has changed. He sets his jaw, pushes his shoulders back, and stands with her in his arms. Other than the tears streaking down his face, he shows no expression.

“Bruno,” I say to him. “They’re coming; we have to go.”

“She goes where I go,” he says. His voice holds no compromise.

“Okay,” I say.

I turn away from him, forcing my own emotions down. I can barely stand the sight of him carrying my beloved friend, but dwelling on it won’t help us get out of here.

In front of me, Cole fires back at the oncoming guards. It’s only a matter of time before they surround us completely.

“Move out,” Cole says.

I’m not sure where to go. The firepower of the guards consumes the hallway leading to the back staircase, eliminating that as a way out.

I hesitate, thinking for a second before deciding on our route. If the back staircase is taken and the elevators are useless, then we have no choice but the front stairs. With a quick prayer and a plea for luck, I motion for the others to follow me.

Here goes nothing.

With each step, I clench my gun and duck for cover. The blistering amount of shooting echoing behind us makes my insides quake with fear and adrenaline. My eyes are wide open, alert. I clamp down on images of Grace by focusing on the stairwell entrance.

Next to the entrance, on the right side, is a patient room. After checking it, I wave the others on. First Bill, then Roméo, and Cole. Zeus stays with me, his face a mask of teeth and unbridled ferocity. Next, Bruno, with Grace’s body in his arms, runs past me, into the staircase.
If I could’ve carried Keegan out, I would’ve.

“Go, boy,” I say. But Zeus looks at me, his tail pointed. “Zeus, go, go, go!” He plants himself next to me.
Stubborn ass
. I move my eyes back and forth, making sure the way’s clear
. I don’t have time for this.
Then I wrap my fingers into his collar and push him across the hallway on skittering nails. He practically slides through the doorway and into Cole.

Just as Zeus’s butt hits the threshold, a shot rings out from close by. I freeze and scan the perimeter, trying to figure out where it came from since the gunfire somewhere behind us has tapered off. Whoever it was knew where we were heading to make our escape. I bite my lip and squint while holding my gun, determined not to miss any detail. Then I see it. A blip of sunlight reflects from the metal of a gun.

Bingo.

There’s a monster in the room.

The door to the patient room bursts open, and the guard comes flying out toward me. I raise my gun. My blood feels electric. I fire off a few rounds and then have to change my magazine. I slam a new one in, but in that split second, he slinks away, using the door as cover. On the other side of it, I hear him talking.

“You’re coming with me.” His voice is low and flat.

Creepy as anything.

“Dream on,” I say evenly.

He sticks his gun out and takes a shot at me. It spins high above my head, but I duck down anyway. I swallow my guts and poke my barrel out firing back at him. It’s just enough to keep him behind the doorway. I can almost smell him from here, the mix of body odor, gun powder, and filth. The sunlight perfectly illuminates his shadow dancing across the door.

“You and your friends don’t stand a chance,” he says. He shoots at me, this time going off to my right. “Everyone’s hunting you down.”

“You leave them out of this,” I say. “It’s me Wilson wants, not them.”

Just keep him talking.

My heart flutters. My breathing’s ragged. I look across the hallway and see Cole’s eyes as he stands in the entrance to the staircase, staring back at me. His white hands grip the doorframe. He’s helpless. If he steps out, the shooter would just kill him on the spot.

“Don’t,” I mouth to Cole.

I see the frustration and agony painted on his face, but I don’t have time to dwell on it before the guard emasculates the walls with firepower. I slink down, curling my body into itself to avoid the ricocheting bullets. When I look up, Cole stares, narrowing his eyes and curling his lips. He glances out the door, but the gunman fires at him until he’s forced to jump back, rendering me alone. Veins bulge from both sides of his neck.

“Go,” I say.

“No,” he says. He won’t leave without me.

“You stupid whore, you’ve got nowhere to go.” The guard’s snide voice comes across muffled and low. He’s pissing me off.

“Go to hell.” I shoot at the door to the room he’s hiding in.

He’s silent for a minute, and I wonder if I got him, but then his shadow moves under the door again.

Just hold steady.

If I stay here any longer, I’m a sitting duck for the next wave of attacks. I can’t withstand them all. This delay is eating up time for all of us. My blood rushes in my ears, and I grit my teeth.

In that split second, I make a choice.

I sprint forward, rushing the doorway. The guard rustles on the other side, but I don’t stop. As he reaches around the door with his gun, I slam the door as hard as I can.

He screams out in pain. His body stumbles on the other side. Breathless, I step around the door and fire the entire contents of my gun at him. He scoots back with eyes wide as his body jerks with each bullet. Somehow, he manages to hold on to his gun. His eyes stare through me as his finger reaches the trigger.

My magazine’s empty.
Crap.
I reach into my waist for another one, when he lifts his gun.

I dive out of the way as a round of bullets skitter past my shoulders, smashing into the wall behind me. I hear the piercing sound of shots and cement and screams. A bullet grazes my thigh, and instantly, I let out a scream from the burning pain.

I’m going to die.

Pulling myself into the hallway, the pain burns through my thigh, and I push through the doors to the stairs, relieved to be alive. Cole greets me, but I can barely look him in the face knowing I didn’t finish the job. I stand up, limp around, and see Bruno resting with Grace, Bill standing guard, and Roméo chewing on the inside of his cheek. All of them think I’ve protected the rear.

I can’t lead them without knowing that guy and his buddies aren’t following us.

“Run,” Cole says.

I shake my head. “Not yet.” I pull a grenade from my pocket, and his eyes grow large. “Hurry, take the others downstairs.”

“No way. Not without you,” he says. But I shove him away.

“I have to do this.” With that said, I push past him back into the hallway.

“Lexi, no!”

The guy’s not dead. I hear his raspy breathing and the sound of him slamming a new magazine home.

He’s waiting for me. He knows I’ll be back to take care of him.

The thought makes my nerves jump and causes a rush of blood through my veins. I pull the tape like Bruno did, slip the spoon, and then toss the grenade into the room. It clatters across the floor.

“Shit!” The guy’s scream runs up my spine.

I threw it hard enough that, with his injuries, he won’t reach it in time to throw it back. I turn and sprint back through the doors. I’m practically flying down the staircase. My heart races. My hair sticks to my neck. I’m just about to second-guess my decision when I hear the grenade go off.

In the next moment, I’m tumbling down the stairs. My backpack slings over my head and carries me forward. I throw my arms up in a feeble attempt to protect myself. My elbows collide with cement; my hair splays everywhere. I can’t focus. The walls seem to uproot and tiles drop from the ceiling.

I hit the landing with a thump and then roll into a fetal position. I try to breathe, but my chest’s tight.
Is that gasping sound coming from me?
Pain rocks my body, like I’ve shattered every single bone.

A face with a big black nose and four brown eyes appears through my cloudy vision.
Or maybe it’s two?
Something cool and wet hits my cheek and brings me into focus. I stretch out my fingers and feel Zeus prodding me to my feet. Around him, the carnage continues raining down. The walls groan.

“Come on, Lexi, get up,” Cole says in a muffled voice. He links his arm through mine, pulling me up.

Mother of God. Burning pain shoots through my leg. It looks like a god of destruction swooped down and took a hammer to the building, breaking everything into pieces and turning it ashen and gray. I blink away the particles on my lashes. Bill’s shadowy figure sprints down two landings ahead of me.

“Don’t you ever pull that stunt again, you hear me?” Cole says as he drags me through the wreckage. “Even though it was the ballsiest thing I’ve seen you do.” He mutters some other things under his breath that I can’t decipher. “I know you’re pissed and hurt and so am I, but you can’t be that reckless.”