Omen Operation by Taylor Brooke Page A

him.
    “Brooklyn.” His voice was calm and direct. “I need to check your stitches. Are you hurt?”
    She shook her head, focusing on Gabriel, who stared at the crumpled bodies on the ground.
    “We killed them,” Brooklyn whispered. “H-how did we…? And why…” Her words trailed off, dropped lower and lower until they vanished. Her gaze drifted back to Porter, who was kneeling in front of her. He lifted her shirt and sighed.
    “They’re fine,” he said softly.
    “Why didn’t they attack you?”
    Porter looked at the ground. His shoulders flexed, muscles clenched. Brooklyn heard the tiny inhale, the sudden shakiness of his breath. He stayed where he was, resting on his knees at her feet while her fingers curled into fists.
    Julian coughed. His hand fell heavy on Gabriel’s shoulder as he pulled her into his chest. “You’re something, you know that?”
    “Yeah, I guess I am,” Gabriel said as she looked from one body to the other and back again.
    “We need to get out of here.” Porter stood, watching Brooklyn carefully.
    “You need to tell me…”
    “I will explain,” he hissed under his breath, tugging at her hips as he lowered his mouth next to her ear. “I will explain everything when we’re back with the others and you’re safe, all right?”
    Brooklyn glared at him. Her lips pursed as she smacked his hands away.
    Porter looked more relieved than he did hurt by her actions. He nudged his head toward the emergency exit near the back of the theater next to the restrooms. They were quick to shuffle around the bodies. Gabriel made a point to step over them, kicking one as she walked by.
    They didn’t speak. Not to each other and not to anyone else as they hurried toward the bridge. Brooklyn’s stitches stung in protest as she took long strides down the rain-dampened sidewalk. They kept looking over their shoulders like clockwork. First Julian would look, followed by Brooklyn and lastly Gabriel. Porter kept his eyes ahead. They were narrowed behind his glasses, shoulders squared, body tight with anxiety. Brooklyn could feel the emotion pouring off him. It felt like heat. Like distress.
    All she could think about was the way those things looked at him, like they knew him.
    “Shouldn’t we be finding a place to hide?” Gabriel asked. She huddled closer to Brooklyn as they walked.
    Porter was in front of them with his hands shoved deep in the front pocket of his jeans. “No,” he threw the word over his shoulder and shook his head. “We need to stay in the open, in public areas.”
    “I think he’s right,” Julian said.
    The road curved up toward the bridge above the train station. The roar of an approaching train echoed off the buildings. Brooklyn looked down over the chipped maroon railing and stared down the Willamette River, eyes trailing over the train tracks nestled up beside the river banks and the apartments across the way. She wondered how easy it would be to sneak into a train car and get off on the last stop. To erase the familiarity of her name and adopt a different personality, cut her hair, get a tattoo. Let go of the questions and the lies and the past. She wondered if it would ever be possible for her to let go of it all.
    The chill of a cold hand swept down, soft fingertips lacing around Brooklyn’s own. Gabriel latched onto her hand and held on.
    Brooklyn couldn’t let go.
     
    ***
     
    Amber was the first person to see them walking up the sidewalk toward the gas station. She called to Rayce and shoved a mouthful of mixed nuts into her mouth.
    Porter touched Brooklyn’s arm, but she pulled it away.
    “Hey!” Gabriel called to Dawson, who was digging through one of the bags in the back of the truck. “Is everyone ready? We need to get out of here.”
    “What happened?” Dawson said. His hands moved to the sides of her arms, and Gabriel leaned into them. His eyes were wide, his gaze moved down her neck to her shoulders, continuing on. He analyzed her for injuries. A