A body crashed into me, hitting me so hard that I flew back and landed on the auditorium floor. I had to move or risk being trampled, but I spent a handful of seconds staring up at the latticework of pipes crisscrossing the ceiling as an idea took shape.
I had to get to Jason.
I pushed myself to my feet, but before I could take a single step, another hit sent me crashing back to the ground. A foot connected with my stomach as a wolf tripped over me. The wolf went sprawling, and I pulled my knees up to my chest and retched.
Suddenly, someone’s arms were around me, lifting me and shielding me.
“Kyle!” I threw my arms around him and buried my face against his neck, for a second not caring that we were in the middle of a stampeding mob.
He eased back to check me for injuries. “What are you doing here?”
“Rescuing you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “How’s that working out?”
“This part wasn’t in the plan,” I admitted. I took a deep breath. “I need to get to Jason. I have an idea.”
To Kyle’s credit, he didn’t argue or question. “Okay. C’mon.” He grabbed my hand and fought his way to the center of the room, keeping me close and safe until we reached Jason’s side.
“How many bullets do you have?” I asked, pressing my mouth close to Jason’s ear.
The small, tight grin that flashed across his face was completely mirthless. “Three times as many as I intend to use,” he said, quoting one of his father’s many gun tips.
I glanced up at the fire sprinkler above our heads. It was hard to tell from the ground, but I was reasonably sure it was the kind with a bulb inside. Break the bulb, and the sprinkler would go off—not an easy shot, but Jason’s father had been dragging him to target practice since he was a toddler. “I need you to take out some of the sprinkler heads.”
He looked at me like I was crazy. “Do you really think this is the time for a wet T-shirt contest?”
A few feet away, a girl lost control and doubled over.
“Please, Jason!” Without waiting for a response, I turned and raced for the dais, trusting Kyle would follow.
There was a chorus of yelps behind me as the first sprinkler went off, but I didn’t look back. I knew Jason would hit more of them and I had to get to the front of the room before the surprise wore off.
Sinclair’s eyes widened slightly as I jogged up the three stairs to the platform.
“Decided to come back and visit?” asked Dex. His voice was steady, but his arms were shaking and his skin was covered in sweat.
“Something like that,” I said, hoping he wasn’t as close to losing control as he looked. I shot a quick glance at the staff members standing off to the side. None of them took their eyes off Dex. As long as he held Sinclair hostage, he held sway over them. Even, it seemed, over someone as brutal as Langley.
“You’re making a huge mistake.” Somehow, despite the fact that she was being held hostage by a werewolf she had probably tortured, Sinclair still managed to sound authoritative. “You’re only chance is—”
Dex flexed his hand against her throat and she immediately stopped talking.
I turned to face the auditorium. The shock of the water seemed to have kept more wolves from shifting, but they were focused on Jason, not the front of the room. Low rumblings started as a few people recognized him from his short stint as a counselor.
I glanced at Kyle. “I need to get their attention.”
Kyle cracked his neck and let loose a howl that no human throat was capable of.
Almost like a single unit, the wolves turned to the front of the room. Even the guards—who had regrouped near the doors—stared expectantly at the stage.
I glanced at Kyle. “Neat,” I murmured. He blushed and then shrugged.
Focusing back on the crowd, I raised my voice until I was practically shouting. “The explosion was the gates being blown. The Eumon pack is breaking us out.”
Some people looked excited and others relieved, but a lot of the faces in the crowd looked skeptical. “We have to get to the gates,” I continued. “Once we get past them, the pack has escape routes and transportation set up.”
Wolves shot questions at me—so many and so fast that they all blurred together—but I addressed the guards. “The blond gentleman in the olive uniform and the nice werewolf on my left are going to collect your Tasers and guns.”
Kyle hopped off the stage. Jason raised an eyebrow as he stowed his own weapon, but then turned and headed through the crowd. The wolves parted for them as they made their way to the men at the back of the room. Most of the guards looked angry, but a few looked frightened.
“Once you hand over your weapons, the wolves and I will be leaving the hall. We’d appreciate it if you’d let us go peacefully.” My voice was level and steady, full of confidence I didn’t feel. It was almost as though I was channeling someone else. Eve, I realized. I sounded like Eve.
“And why would we do that?” asked a burly guard who was definitely more angry than frightened. The sleeves of his uniform had been rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms that were covered in intricate patterns of ink.
“First: we outnumber you by, like, thirty to one. You might tase or shoot a few of us, but you won’t get all of us. Second”—and here I glanced at Sinclair—“we have the warden and we won’t let her go until we reach the gates. And third: the pack is tearing apart Thornhill as we speak. If you let us go peacefully, they won’t have a reason to come inside. Keep us in here, and they’ll eventually break down the door.”
“Don’t listen to her.” Sinclair’s voice rang out across the hall. “You know the policy: no negotiations with inmates—even in hostage situations.”
I raised my voice over hers as she spouted a section from the employee manual. “And if you need a more personal reason: the warden has purposefully been putting every Thornhill staff member at risk. Including each of you.”
“She’s lying.” I could feel the force of Sinclair’s glare between my shoulder blades; it was like a dagger buried to the hilt.
“That female wolf who was removed from the hall and the guy who’s currently holding your warden hostage? They aren’t the only ones the HFDs don’t work on. Wolves build up a tolerance. The more they’re exposed, the less they’re affected—it’s why the counselors have HFDs and you don’t. Sinclair is trying to limit how often they get hit. Sooner or later, every wolf in this camp could be immune.”
Hundreds of wolves stared at me in shock.
“Lies,” repeated Sinclair, but the guards weren’t listening to her.
“Did you know?” The guard with the tattoos turned to the uniform on his right. The wolves in the hall had fallen so quiet that, even with the noise coming from outside, it was easy to hear the exchange. “You didn’t seem surprised when that girl stayed on her feet.”
The other guard hesitated, then nodded. “Everyone assigned to duty in the detention block knows. We weren’t supposed to tell anyone.”
The tattooed guard scowled at the words, then handed Kyle his gun and Jason his Taser. The rest of the guards quickly followed suit.
The boys returned to the dais, arms full, as Sinclair glared at the guards. If anything was left of Thornhill in the morning, I had a feeling each one of them would be getting a pink slip.
“Do we hand them out?” asked Dex as Kyle and Jason climbed onto the stage.
“No.” I expected Jason to speak, but the answer came from Kyle. “If you give them weapons, it’ll be too big a temptation. Someone will use one. It will just give the guards outside one more reason to shoot.” He headed for the far corner of the dais and left the guns hidden in the shadows.
Jason did the same with the Tasers.