The helicopter touches down with a soft bump, and I hear the rotors beginning to wind down. Voices call out instructions, feet move across metal flooring, and the smell of the outside world creeps in through opening doors.
"Easy," Doctor says as they transfer Felix to what sounds like a gurney. "Watch the IV line."
I stumble along beside them, one hand on the gurney's rail to guide me through the darkness. The blindfold makes everything disorienting, turns the world into a maze of sounds and smells and textures. When a hand rests on my shoulder, only touching enough to guide, I flinch.
Viper. The pilot. The one who smells like sunshine. I tolerate his touch and let him lead me alongside Felix.
We're moving through what feels like a large space—I can tell by the way sound echoes off distant walls. There are other people here, their voices a low murmur of conversation and concern. The smell of coffee and gun oil and antiseptic.
"Room three is prepped," someone calls out. A woman's voice. Curt and professional.
"Good," Doctor replies. "Let's get him stabilized."
They're taking care of Felix. That's what matters. Whatever else happens, whatever they discover, at least they're trying to save his life.
But as we move deeper into their base, as the sounds and smells of their world surround us, the shadows whisper their warnings louder and louder.
They'll find out,they hiss.They'll know. And then what will you do?
I don't have an answer. All I can do is hold onto Felix's hand and hope that when he wakes up, we'll still have our secrets intact.
Hope that we'll still have each other.
Chapter
Twelve
ARCHER
The observation window separates us from them like a television screen playing the world's most fucked up reality show. I lean against the reinforced glass, watching Juniper perch on the edge of Felix's hospital bed like a petite gargoyle protecting its cathedral. She hasn't moved in three hours. Not to eat, not to use the bathroom, not even to stretch. Just sits there with her fingers wrapped around his wrist, monitoring his pulse like she doesn't trust the machines beeping steadily beside them.
The medical bay smells like antiseptic and lemon cleaner that burns my nostrils. But underneath it, I can still catch traces of her scent drifting through the ventilation system. Sweet flowers mixed with something wild and untamed that makes my alpha instincts want to break down the door and?—
No. Stop that shit right there.
"She's going to need food soon," Elias says from behind me, his voice clinical but edged with concern. He's got Felix's chart in his hands, flipping through pages of medical data like they might suddenly reveal something new. "And water. She's beenrunning on adrenaline and fear for hours, but I can't get her to take anything."
"Good luck getting her to leave his side," Bane mutters from his position by the door. He's been standing guard like we're expecting an army to come bursting through at any moment. Maybe we are. We still don't know who hired them or why. "She’s the most stubborn thing I’ve ever seen."
Through the glass, I watch Juniper lean down to whisper something in Felix's ear. Her lips move in what looks like a prayer or maybe a threat. Knowing what I've seen of her so far, could be both. Her brown hair falls like a curtain around her face, hiding her expression, but I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way her free hand keeps drifting to where she'd normally keep a weapon.
She's terrified. And trying so fucking hard not to show it.
"We should get her something to eat," I say, already knowing how that's going to go. About as well as it went for Elias. "Maybe some water at least."
"She won't take it," Carlisle says from his sprawl in the corner chair. He's been uncharacteristically quiet since we got back, those blue eyes of his fixed on the window with an intensity that makes my skin crawl. "Not from us. We're the enemy, remember? The big bad alphas who shot her mate."
"Partner," Elias corrects automatically.
"Same difference." Carlisle waves a dismissive hand, but his gaze never leaves Juniper. "Point is, she thinks we're going to hurt him. Or her. Or both."
The way he's looking at her makes something protective flare in my chest. Carlisle's many things—brilliant, charming, completely fucking psychotic—but he's never shown this kind of focus on anyone who wasn't about to die by his hand.
This is... interest.
And that scares the shit out of me.
"So," Carlisle says, finally tearing his gaze away from the window to look at the rest of us. That too-wide smile spreads across his face like oil on water. "Is someone going to address the elephant in the room, or shall I?"
