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“On my life,” Hudson promises.
He leads her out the open doors, and the rest of us wade through the throng of bodies. Their eyes are unfocused, in a zombie-like trance. Thomas tries asking them questions, but none of them are responsive.
“Including Alexis, we have twenty-two people. Appears to be at least three males, and the rest are females,” Bennett reports. “I don’t know for sure, but based on looks alone, I think Alexis is the youngest.”
“How are we getting them back to the boat?” Carver inquires. “They’re in no shape to walk out of here.”
“You’ll have to put your hotwiring skills to use,” I say with a smirk. “I saw a flatbed by the observation tower. You and Thomas head that way. Keep an eye out. We have no way of knowing if they called for backup.”
“Roger that,” they say.
I survey the bodies slumped against each other, and one catches my eye. “Hudson!” I call.
Hudson runs toward me, and I point at the woman in a blue dress with her arm bent at an unnatural angle. Hudson sidesteps me, leans down, and presses his fingers to her neck to check for a pulse.
“Motherfucker,” he mutters. “She’s dead.”
“Fuck!” I tug my hair at the root, but the pain doesn’t ground me enough. I focus my attention on the steel panel, pull my fist back, and slam it into it over and over again until Hudson wraps his arms around my chest and pulls me out of the container.
“Enough!” Hudson yells. “You’re fucking pissed. I get it. But losing your shit isn’t going to help the ones who are still alive. You could’ve scared the fuck out of them.”
I hang my head, knowing he’s right. Pain radiates up my arm, and my hand begins to swell.
Hudson looks at my hand and shakes his head. “Dumbass,” he mumbles. “That’s broken.”
“We were too fucking late,” I snarl, as he wraps my hand so I can’t cause further damage to myself.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “We lost one, but we still have twenty-one we rescued. That’s still a win. Now, let’s get them home safely.”
Twenty-one more people to add to the forty-three we already rescued. How many more are out there waiting for a hero to save them?How many more will lose the battle before we can get to them?
CHAPTER 8
AURORA
“Areyou sure you feel up to coming tonight, baby girl?” Dad asks for the fourth time.
We’re in the back of the limousine with my stepmother, Vera, riding to the annual State Dinner in Washington, D.C. Normally, I don’t attend these, but this year, my dad is being honored for his service. I took an extra Xanax and gave myself a pep talk before getting dressed for the evening. It’s been a week since my lunch with Hugh, and the first time I’ve been around this many people since before I was taken.
Vera clings to Dad’s arm. “Of course, she feels like coming, don’t you, dear?”
She’s wearing a beautiful sequined lavender gown with a deep v-neck that highlights her flawless porcelain skin and pale blonde hair.
“I want to be here, Dad,” I confirm. “It’ll be exciting to eat a nice meal for once.”
Dad chuckles. “So, you’re just here for the free meal and not to see your old man get a service achievement award.”
“Oh, is that what this is for?” I joke.
“Brat.”
Vera clears her throat. “Why didn’t you wear the dress I sent over, Aurora?”
I lock eyes with her. I can’t believe she has the audacity to even ask me that. Vera is nice, but she is very obtuse. She buries her head in the sand when bad things occur, thinking that if she doesn’t allow herself to hear them, they don’t actually happen. She made no effort to come and visit me in the hospital, and when I was finally released, she told me she was glad I recovered from mytragic accident.Like I got hit by a car or something.
The dress she sent over was emerald green and absolutely gorgeous and, in another life, I would’ve worn it. It’s a silky halter with a slit that goes up mid-thigh and completely backless. Instead, I opted for a modest black cocktail dress that stops below my knee with lace sleeves. It took everything I had and a phone call with Jessa to keep me from dressing in sweatpants and a sweatshirt.
“Willow saw it and practically begged me to let her wear it on her date,” I lie. “She was going to an opera with someone.”