After everything he’d done—sending the NSA the coordinates to Blackwater Ranch, putting a tracking device in the watch he’d given Kyra . . . he was seriously the last person I’d expected to find standing there. Facing us.
“What the fu—” I started. But then I narrowed my eyes and bit down hard, clenching my jaw. “You piece of crap!” I bit out, right before I landed the first punch, hard in the face. And then the second. Somewhere along the line there was a third and probably a fourth.
From behind . . . or above us, since I was pretty sure we were on the floor now, I heard that son of a bitch Agent Truman, and realized he was here too. He was laughing. There were shouts and screams, but Agent Truman . . . yeah, he was seriously getting his rocks off.
No matter. I was seeing red—figuratively and literally—as I took everything out on Thom, wondering if he had any intention of fighting back.
TYLER
KYRA WAS HERE.
That’s all I could think. All I could focus on, even while Simon was wailing on Thom, and that NSA agent was cracking up. Even as a team of security agents rushed the room.
Kyra was here. As beautiful as ever.
Alive.
I could breathe again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AS SECURITY SWARMED PAST, I WONDERED WHY an agency whose sole purpose was research needed their own small army, and why they’d been so readily available. But the thought came and went quickly, swallowed up by my gratitude that they’d been there to break up the fight. My voice was hoarse from screaming at the two of them to stop, even though I doubted either Simon or Thom had heard me.
“Enough!” Dr. Clarke’s voice cut through the chaos as the enormous armed men peeled the boys apart.
But it was my dad, who seemed to suddenly be aware I was standing there, whose voice I heard as it echoed off the metal walls and stone floors. “Kyra!” He shoved everyone aside to reach me and I breathed in his scent as he crushed me to his barrel-sized chest. “Kyra, my god . . . Kyra,” he repeated, as if he was trying to convince himself it was real. That I was actually there.
I wanted to ask him how he’d gotten here, where he’d been, and how he was. I wanted to know when they’d met up with Simon and to know every detail of every second from the moment we’d been separated, but it would have to wait.
When he let me go, all eyes were on me—curious and questioning. In my periphery I spotted Tyler, and he was watching me back. I tried to decipher his expression, that look on his face. Had he forgiven me? Or did he need more time?
Without thinking, I turned and caught Simon’s copper eyes. “Kyra . . .” He sounded like all the wind had just been knocked out of him, and I couldn’t remember a time the sound of my own name had been so intimate.
But it was too much, the way he said it, and I forced myself to look away. To look around.
And they were all there, all my friends in one place—Willow, Jett, Simon, even Griffin—and all I could think was how grateful I was they were alive. That my dad and Tyler had found them.
One of the guards was restraining Willow, and I tried to remember if she’d been part of the brawl. Beneath her breath she muttered, “scumbag” and I knew it was directed at Thom.
“It’s not like that,” I said, moving to stand by Thom’s side. “It wasn’t him.”
Griffin’s hands settled on her hips. “Don’t you dare defend that traitor. If it wasn’t for him . . .”
Simon crossed his arms and shot a scathing look at Thom. I had my work cut out for me.
“Seriously, you guys. It was Natty.”
My eyes slid to Thom, who wasn’t exactly making himself seem innocent by glaring at the lot of them. I guess I couldn’t blame him though; I’d be pissed too, if I’d been greeted by a full-scale assault.
Griffin narrowed her brown eyes. “So you’re saying Thom was, what? A pawn? That he was innocent. Natty was some kind of mastermind this whole time?”
“Go ahead,” I implored Thom. “Tell them. Tell them it was Natty who sent out the message.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “I had no idea who she really was. She used my passwords to send out a message, and when I caught her, she and Eddie Ray took me prisoner. They tortured me to try and get my private code word for Silent Creek, so they could ambush my camp.” He shook his head and sighed. “Until Kyra found me, I had no idea Natty and Eddie Ray had kidnapped her too.”
“God, I’d love to shake the hand of the person who put that bullet between Natty’s eyes,” Willow ground out.
“Here’s your chance,” Agent Truman butted in. “She’s right here. She shot all of ’em apparently.” He held out a hand all Vanna White-style, offering me up as the grand prize on some game show.
“Christ,” Simon breathed.
But it was Tyler, whose eyes landed on mine that I cared about. “You? It was you who . . . killed them?”