Gray darted through the doorway on the other side of the large room. It was darker back here, and he felt his senses sharpen, his heart beat faster, his pulse going through the roof. Too many doors, too many fucking doors. But one was open, two doors down, and he poked his head in. At the same time as his hand found a light switch, his vision adjusted enough to notice the big form on the floor.
“Darius.” He didn’t register flicking on the light or tucking away his gun, only that it was suddenly bright, and he rushed forward to roll Darius onto his back. “Baby, wake up.” He smacked Darius’s cheeks lightly and quickly searched the floor for a gas mask. When he didn’t find one, he removed his own and placed it over Darius’s face. “I’ll get you out of here.” Then he stood up and hitched his arms under Darius’s armpits.
You’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine.
Gray gnashed his teeth and dragged Darius out of the room. Or kitchen. Christ, all impressions sank in too late. Same with the cuts and scrapes on Darius’s face. Or… Shit. The blood. Darius was losing blood. Didn’t Ryan patch him up? Gray had been ready to throw fists earlier when they’d first arrived at the compound and he hadn’t had the time to even see Darius. Not for a second. They’d had to bring twenty-two victims to safety, and Ryan had been busy with Darius back here. According to Ryan, “to patch him up a bit” after an encounter with a guard’s gun.
“Why do you always end up with bullet wounds?” Gray growled. He looked over his shoulder, gauging the distance to the corridor, then did his best to speed up. The air didn’t smell or feel different, but he knew he had to get out quickly.
Niko rushed by to grab Dante, having already brought Elliott out of there.
Gray stepped it up further and ran backward, and he almost crashed into Reese in the lobby, who was dragging a lifeless River.
River had his own mask, which Reese must’ve put on him. It made Gray wonder where Darius’s mask was. They had to have noticed something. Dizziness, maybe? Nausea? Something, before they passed out.
“I’m too old for this,” Reese gritted out.
Gray took a heaving breath and hauled Darius up the stairs. Sweat started beading along his forehead, and his arms ached. He didn’t wanna know how he’d feel if they hadn’t trained like lunatics the past several weeks.
“I can help,” Gray panted. “Stay there.”
Reese shook his head. “It’s fine. Put on your mask again and help Niko. I’ll be right there.”
Panic seized Gray’s chest for a beat. He dragged Darius across to where Tariq was hovering over Elliott, having opened his Kevlar vest. The thought of leaving Darius now was crippling. Gray had to make sure he was okay. Did they call an ambulance? Their whole goal had been to be invisible in Nevada, except for Darius. His whereabouts hadn’t been secret.
How did you treat someone with carbon monoxide poisoning? Was CPR even good? Did mouth-to-mouth just make shit worse? Gray wasn’t a fucking doctor. He didn’t know these things.
“Leave him with me,” Tariq said, turning around to check in on Ryan. His vest was open too. Tariq leaned down and checked Ryan’s pulse. “They are both breathing.”
It was a disturbing sight. One that only lasted for a second before Gray had to continue with his task, but seeing Darius, Elliott, Ryan, and River lying there, without any outward signs of life, was gonna haunt Gray for years to come.
“Make sure he’s breathing,” he rasped, grabbing his mask again. Then he descended the stairs once more and put on his mask. He ran down the corridor toward the back rooms, the fluorescent lights flickering in the ceiling.
Every fiber of his being screamed at him to turn back, to be with Dare until he woke up. Instead, Gray was down here searching for a conniving bitch, the head of a human trafficking ring, and the aforementioned head’s son.
Revulsion rumbled in his stomach. He opened every door, each one revealing small rooms with very little in them. Hooks on the walls, water bowls for dogs on the floor, the occasional bloodied towel… And the smell. The smell of disinfectants that was all too familiar. It was a specific odor, a strong one that burned his nose. Ammonia mixed with lemon and chemicals.
Fear was written on the black-painted walls. Gray didn’t need to see any proof to know that innocent boys and girls had suffered in these little rooms.
He swallowed hard and shook off the memories, then forced himself to move forward.
He flicked on the lights and found a lifeless AJ Lange in the next room.
Gray walked over to him. The man was lying on his side, hands and feet zip-tied.