Chapter 12: Cell Eleven

Wynne's POV

Bram's name on Emmett's list was the first proof that made me trust him, and I rode to Holloway because of it.

Holloway Farm was a white barn at the end of a gravel road, with a fence around it and no sign on the gate.

We came at midnight, three trucks with the headlights off.

Bram drove mine.

The old Alpha of the northern pack rode in the back with a rifle across his knees.

Six of his men followed in the next truck.

None of us talked.

The old man had told us in the yard at Ashmoor why he was coming.

A granddaughter of his had walked out of the house at seventeen, ten years ago, and never come back.

Her name was on Emmett's list.

I had read it twice.

At the gate nobody stopped us.

The lights in the yard were out and the front door stood a hand's width open.

"It's too easy," Bram said, very low.

"I know."

"We should send two in first."

"We should send me in first."

I got out of the truck.

He started to follow, and I raised one hand without turning around, and he stopped.

The old Alpha's men spread out behind us in a half circle, with silver chains looped over their shoulders and nothing in their hands.

I pushed the door open with my palm.

Inside, it smelled of bleach and old straw and something faintly green.

I knew the green.

It hung faintly in every corner of the place.

Briar rose against my ribs.

*They are here,* she said. *I can hear them breathing.*

A hallway ran down the middle of the barn.

On both sides of it were narrow rooms with solid doors and a small square window cut in each at the height of a face.

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