Raging Sea (Undertow, #2)(53)

“I couldn’t help myself,” I cry defensively.

“At the center of every love triangle is always a complete ass.” She sighs. “He gets to be Captain Wishy-Washy while the dummies who love him fight for his attention. It’s manipulative and pathetic. They should call them loser triangles.”

“You’re still trying to make me feel better, right?”

Bex laughs and squeezes me tight.

“Well, I was saving this for your birthday, but I think you need it now,” she says, reaching into her jumpsuit and pulling out a tube of cherry lip gloss from the pocket. She places it in my hand. I pop off the top and smell it. The scent is fruity and biting.

“Where did you get this?”

“From Luisa and Carmen,” she says.

“Who?”

“The spa ladies! We’re tight. You know, you really should learn some Spanish. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

I apply a coat and taste the phony cherry flavor on my tongue, then hand it to Bex, who does the same.

“This is the worst hotel I have ever stayed in,” she says.

I laugh and laugh, and then I cry some more.

“When we check out of this place, we’re stealing the towels,” she says.



Doyle comes for me in the morning. He doesn’t say anything, but he watches my father and mother as if he’s concerned for them. He’s smart enough to know we don’t want him around, so he retreats to the hall while I get dressed.

“Honey, if you get your chance today, take it,” my mother whispers to me. She looks around the room as if she suspects we’re being listened to. I hate to admit it wasn’t even something I’d considered, but now I can’t stop imagining microphones hidden in the beds and pillows.

“If I fail, they will hurt you,” I whisper back.

My mother nods that she understands, then my dad, then Bex.

“Take the shot,” my father says.

Moments later I’m on the catwalk above the park, looking down as the children race through the trees. They’re playing a game of hide-and-seek, giggling as they scamper for their favorite spots. I marvel at their joy. Doyle said he wanted this place to be a safe harbor for the children and it’s working. They really don’t know what’s happening here. They think their parents are sick, bravely fighting some imaginary illness, rather than starving in solitary confinement just a few floors above. They don’t realize that their Alpha parents are guinea pigs in a mad scientist lab that’s only an elevator trip away. How can they not know that something is wrong? How can they not suspect that everything around them is a lie?

As I watch, I can’t help but think about what my family wants me to do and how it will turn their lives upside down. Take the shot. And then what?

If I go after Spangler, I will have to attack Fathom and Doyle and the guards and quite possibly the children. Chloe is hiding in a shrub near the carousel, her face as clear as if she were sitting right next to me. I wonder if she would try to stop me if I had a chance to get us out of here. Would Harrison? Georgia? Finn? Priscilla? Would Riley stand in my way too? Is Spangler’s hold on them so powerful that they can’t see the difference between right and wrong? It sounds far-fetched, but I’m not so sure it’s impossible. Fathom betrayed me to protect him, and he is the most strong-willed—no, stubborn person I’ve ever met. Even I felt it a bit when I was locked in that cell. I remember hearing the buzzer and leaping up to get into the circle. I was so eager to please. It hurts to admit it, but I wanted Spangler to be proud of me. I wanted to be a good dog.

I don’t know how to stop him without ripping the throats out of all his pack. First, I need to figure out how he’s blocking my glove. If I can find the switch, I can do some serious damage. I could find Arcade, and we could finish what we set out to do. She must be in the tank with the other Alpha, but— “You’ll never make it work,” Doyle says. He’s been standing beside me the whole time.

“Make what work?”

“I can see what you’re thinking. You might as well put it on a billboard. You’re working on scenarios.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, then turn my back on him so he can’t see the lie.

“I’m not going to tell you to stop. It’s how you’re made. I’d do the same thing if I were you. We’re the same kind of animal. I’m just saying it’s not going to work. I helped design this place and—”

“You and I are nothing alike,” I hiss.

“Let’s work it out together. How do you get all the Alphas upstairs out of their tanks? How do you get all the parents out of solitary? How do you free these kids? How do you avoid the guards and Spangler and me and get your injured father out of his room and still turn off the EMP device all at the same time?”

“EMP?”

He chuckles. “I like you, Lyric. You’d make a good soldier. EMP stands for electo-magnetic pulse. It’s what’s turning off your power. It’s used in military-grade weapons to knock out electronics. Thing is, your weapon doesn’t run on electricity. We really don’t know what makes it work, but the EMP has the same effect. Any idea what makes that thing on your hand tick?”

“Always the soldier, Doyle. If I knew, I wouldn’t tell you. Unless you want to tell me where to find the EMP?”