Perigee [bxb] | Bad Moon Book II

40; {Jaylin}: blue

Jaylin had expected wolves. Instead, they were met with rifles.

In the time that it'd taken for the vehicles of armed men to arrive, they could have easily fled from the bluff. But Gunner had said it himself; if what they really wanted was to get their hands on Ziya, then they needed a way over the trenches. They needed to stay exactly where they were.

Ziya had upgraded the armor on her men this time. They weren't simple bullet-proof vests anymore, but military-grade suits, padded from head to toe. They looked like they'd stepped straight from the front-lines of war, circling the group slowly, slumping through the trees with their black-gray vests and their silver masks and their sizable rifles—the barrels whipping from one body to the next, seeking out the slightest movements and denying themselves the will to fire.

Jaylin was the first to raise his hands in surrender.

He heard Felix's breath shift. He shot a look to Jaylin from over his shoulder. "The hell're ye' doing, kid?"

The men closed in step for step. The way they moved was not with confidence. Each step advanced only inches, the leaves and twigs cracking beneath their tactical boots. Jaylin felt an elbow bump into his spine, but he wasn't sure who it belonged to. The wolves had all collapsed backward, enclosed in a circle, backs pressed to one another. Bailey was the last to forfeit his distance, hesitating back a step until Izzy reached out and tugged him into the huddle.

Bailey grumbled, the same way he grumbled about everything, "You have a plan, litch?"

"Not really," Jaylin admitted.

"Ye' realize yer giving the bastards exactly what the wanted," said Felix.

"He isn't," Nicon interjected. "What they want is a lichund—but he isn't a lichund. He's a warden and that's not something Ziya will ever be able to recreate."

"Should we go wolf?" asked Izzy.

"Human men," Elizaveta said. "Good odds."

"No." Jaylin pushed out a slow, nervous breath. "For all we know they're stuck here like Gunner." He watched as a suited lackey crept closer, unhooking a metal object from his belt. Moonlight pearled across the short silver chain.

"Turn around," ordered the man, the metal pieces clacking together as he advanced another slow, skittish step.

He couldn't see past the man's mask—not enough to read his eyes, but Jaylin could feel his heartbeat when he really focused.  Even with his suit of protective armor, the man was afraid. 

When Jaylin sought out the pulses of the other guards, their heartbeats came just as fast, just as hard; overlaying one another like rain on a tin roof. Each of them too fearful of the lichund to keep their guns steady.

Slowly, Jaylin turned and folded his arms behind his back. One by one, the others turned as well. He stared into Nicon's eyes now—caught the uncertain twinge in his sharp brows as he lowered his head and offered his arms to his captors. You'll be okay, Jaylin wanted to tell him. We'll all be fine. But the truth was that Nicon's presence here made him a traitor. Jaylin couldn't imagine that Ziya treated renegades very kindly.

Cool metal slid around his wrists, and Jaylin wasn't prepared for the searing pain that came next. It'd been a long time since he felt the burn of silver—but there was something worse about these binds than the ones they'd used on him last. A curse came from Felix, a hard breath from Nicon, a whimper from Izzy and he could only assume they'd been given the same treatment.

He was taken by the arms, a man at each bicep, and led down the forest slope to a dirt path. They could have easily walked the distance to Ziya's headquarters, but instead, they were tossed into the back of an empty cargo van.