Jaxson(49)

Smith gritted his teeth and came at Jaxson. Just as he reached the chair, Jaxson whipped his bound hands up to catch Smith under the chin. Then he popped up from the seat, brought his arms back down, and looped them around Smith’s neck. Jaxson spun the chair still attached to his legs and dragged Smith in front of him as a human shield. Smith grabbed at his neck, struggling to breathe, but Jaxson’s choke-hold was solid. And it would only take a small twist to end Smith’s struggles for good.

Jaxson quickly cased the battlefield, but all hell had already broken loose.

All the shifters were up on their feet, swinging their bound wrists like clubs or taking hopping leaps at the guards with their zip-tied boots. In the melee, one of his pack had somehow found a knife, which was quickly flipping from one shifter to the next as they sliced through their zip ties. A few had their fangs out, biting their way free. Then a gun sailed through the air, from Daniel to Jared…

Hit the deck! Jaxson mentally blasted to all of his pack. Like one, they dropped to the ground… all except Jared, who Jaxson had shielded from his command. Jaxson flung himself and Agent Smith to the floor, landing with the man under him and the chair on top. Jared spun a fast circle, shooting the now-exposed guards rapid fire with dead-on aim—a couple managed to drop and scramble behind the civilian prisoners on the floor, who were just now rousing out of their sedative with the commotion.

“Hold your fire!” Jaxson shouted, but Jared had already checked his aim, pointing his gun to the ceiling to avoid hitting the prisoners. One of the guards popped up with a female shifter as a shield and started firing. Jared went down. Then Agent Smith heaved Jaxson up into the air, exposing him above the huddled masses on the floor. He caught a bullet, and it slammed him back harder than any of Agent Smith’s punches. Jaxson fell backward, but his legs were still bound to the chair—that, plus the screaming pain of the gunshot wound, weakened his grip on Agent Smith. He wormed out of Jaxson’s hold and twisted to slam two punches straight into Jaxson’s wound. He convulsed with the pain, and black spots shot in front of his vision. By the time he blinked them clear, Agent Smith was gone.

Jaxson breathed out the pain and curled up to sitting. The melee was in full force again.

Someone had taken out the guard with the gun. Shifters were engaged in hand-to-hand combat with the guards still left, which meant their weapons must be disabled or out of reach. Jaxson was hobbled by the chair, so he stayed down, casting a look around for Agent Smith. He was running away. The coward was making for the plane outside.

Something tugged at Jaxson’s legs—he twisted to find Murphy slicing him free of the chair and then cutting his hand ties. Once out of his restraints, Jaxson sprinted toward Jared, but Jace was already there, lifting him up. Jared’s shirt was covered with blood, but Jace gave Jaxson a quick nod—Jared would live.

If they got out.

Priority on the prisoners! Jaxson mentally shouted. A few of his pack were still engaged with the guards, but most were cutting the ties of the prisoners. Jaxson clutched his arm to cap the bleeding, then hustled toward the door at the back of the hangar, hoping like crazy there were actually vehicles outside. When he slammed the door open, two white vans shone in the moonlight.

Out the back! he commanded, and the pack moved as one, leaving the guards they were fighting and half carrying the prisoners as they fled. Jaxson held the door as they streamed out of the hangar and to the van. He waited for the last of them to straggle through. The two guards still moving were scrabbling around their fallen compatriots. One came up with a gun, which he pointed at the last of the escaping prisoners.

Jaxson yanked the final one through the door as the shots pinged the sheet metal. He sprinted with him to the vans, catching up with the last prisoners loading in.

“Go! Go! Go!” he shouted as he pulled the van doors shut behind him. The guards probably wouldn’t pursue them, but Jaxson didn’t want any last-minute casualties, not with vans full of civilians.

They were crammed in—Murphy was driving, Daniel riding shotgun with a couple female civilians jammed in with him, including one on his lap. The back was cramped with seven more prisoners, half of them bleeding. But they made room for Jared, who was laid out on the floor with Jace bending over him. The rough bounce of the van worked against Jaxson as he stumbled to kneel by his brothers.

“Is he all right?” Jaxson asked Jace.

“He will be.” Jace’s lack of flippant answer made Jaxson’s stomach clench. “He needs to be sewn up, which I can’t do until we pull over and sit still for a while.”