Page 347 of Immune

My left wrist turns slightly inside the restraint.

Pain sparks.

Useful.

There’s a little give.

Not enough to get free but enough to become a problem. And that’s honestly the best thing right now, because I love being a problem.

The woman straightens. “Keep her stable. The buyers want an Omega with intact heat response, not a corpse.”

“And the science unit?”

“They get the drives first. Her later, if leadership approves.”

“And if Haven Ridge comes?”

A pause. Then the woman looks toward the door.

“They won’t,” she says, but her voice is thinner now. “The Commander said her pack would be contained.”

Commander. That rotten name again.

Hale’s betrayal settles over me, colder than the metal at my wrists. I hope Kaito gets to him first. No. Actually, I hope Maine does. Wait, no. I hope they take turns. Yeah, that sounds much better.

The guard beside me shifts closer, too comfortable, too sure I’m nothing more than straps and sedatives. His hand drops to my wrist restraint, checking the lock. The baton at his belt brushes the side of the chair.

Close.

Too close.

My body is slow.

My timing has to be perfect.

Unfortunate, really, because perfect and drugged don’t tend to tango very well.

He leans across me.

I move.

Not big.

Not dramatic.

I twist my left wrist until the restraint bites skin, hook two fingers around the loose edge of the strap, and yank my whole arm down with everything I have left.

Something tears.

Maybe skin.

Maybe muscle.

Maybe dignity.

The restraint doesn’t break, but it jerks enough to pull the guard off balance. His hip hits the chair but my knee can’t lift far since my ankle is still strapped down. I do manage to turn my foot outward, though, catching the edge of the cart next to me.

I kick and the cart slams into his legs. He curses, stumbling away from me. I snap my head forward and sink my teeth into the soft meat between his glove and sleeve and he screams so loudly my ears ring with it.