Avenger(15)

He paused and his eyes widened.

“What? It would make them—?” I prompted.

“Invincible.” He swallowed thickly. “It would make them nearly invincible.” He ran his fingers roughly through his wavy brown hair. “We don’t stand a chance, Sophie.”

“Don’t say that,” I begged.

“Don’t you see? Travis is making an army,” his arms fell to his sides. “I don’t care how strong of a pack we are. We don’t stand a chance against an army of mutants and Travis.”

Dread filled my stomach. Had we always been doomed from the start to die?

“Look at this,” he reached over and grabbed several newspapers off the bedside table, throwing them onto my lap. “Read the headlines.”

I glanced at him before letting my gaze drop.

Each headline was much the same.

A human missing, presumed dead. Several mentioned decapitated bodies being found.

The police believe these disappearances and murders are the work of a serial killer. They have no other information to release at this time.

My hand came up to cover my open mouth.

“Oh my God,” I gasped before leaning over and throwing up on the floor. I couldn’t stomach the thought of so many innocent humans dying or being turned into mutants because Travis—and maybe the elders—wanted us dead.

Caeden pulled my hair back into a ponytail and held it as I was violently sick. When I finished, he eased from the bed to clean up the mess.

“I’ll get you some juice,” he said as he left the room.

“And let me brush my teeth,” I pleaded, knowing he could hear me.

Tears streamed out of my eyes as I silently cried for all the people Travis had killed. No one deserved to die like that, and the only reason he was doing this was because of us. If I had never come here, maybe none of this would’ve happened. True, I wouldn’t have Caeden or the friends I’d made, but I’d rather lose them then be responsible for so many innocent lives.

There had to have been at least eight newspapers there, and who knew how many articles I had missed. I was eighteen, I didn’t read the newspaper, but Caeden obviously did.

When he entered the room he had a glass of water and orange juice—I had been craving orange juice like crazy. Without saying anything he went to the bathroom and came back with my toothbrush and toothpaste. Using the glass of water, I brushed my teeth. When I finished I looked up at a bleary-eyed Caeden. “How many?”

“Huh?” He asked, taking the glass of water and emptying in the bathroom.

“How many deaths?” I clarified.

He stopped at the end of the bed, his hands grasping the wrought iron in a white-knuckle grip. “Twenty six.”

“And how many are still missing?” I let my eyes drop to the blanket covering me. I couldn’t look at him right now.

“Soph—”

“Tell me,” I hissed through gritted teeth. “I need to know.”

“At least fifty, but Travis is crafty so I’m sure there are people missing that no one’s even realized is gone. That being said, I’d guess closer to eighty.”

“Eighty,” I gasped, forcing the word out of my mouth. I felt like I was going to be sick again. My head fell forward into my hands. “No,” I said. “No, no, no,” I kept repeating the word, like as if by sheer will power I could change what he had said. “This has to stop,” I growled.

“I agree,” Caeden spoke. “But like I’ve told you, I’m not going into this blind anymore…not that we did before, but you know what I mean. When we’re ready to attack, I don’t want there to be any chance that Travis gets away. I want his heart ripped out and his blood on my hands.”

I looked up at Caeden. We’d both changed so much in the last year. Neither of us were naïve children anymore. We’d learned love and loss—two things that changes a person forever.

Caeden straightened. “I have some things I need to do. Christian is coming over to sit with you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” I rolled my eyes.

“Yes, you do,” he forced a chuckle. “Besides, she misses you. Don’t you miss her?”

“Of course,” I shrugged, evading a real answer. I did miss Chris. I considered her my best friend, but after what happened with Logan—her brother dying to save me—I didn’t quite know how to act around her. I knew it was wrong of me to avoid her, although, was it considered avoiding when you were trapped in bed?

“Where are you going?” I asked him.

“Out.”

“That’s vague,” I glared at him. “You can tell me.”