51. Max
51
MAX
T he East Wing's entrance loomed, its steel doors hanging askew from an earlier explosion. Max pressed forward, keeping his weapon trained on the shadowy corridor beyond. Behind him, Drova's breathing came in short, controlled bursts—the girl was barely holding it together.
"Remember," Jade said into the comm, "We can't leave anyone alive to report back about us."
Anton and Dima fanned out to either side, their movements fluid and predatory. The Kra-ell hybrids might not have formal military training, but their instincts were razor-sharp.
The corridor stretched ahead, fluorescent lights flickering. Max's enhanced hearing picked up the shuffle of boots from multiple directions—too many to pinpoint. The acrid smell of gunpowder still hung in the air from the earlier fighting, mixed with something else.
Fear .
The entire building reeked of it.
"The stairs leading up should be around the next corner," Max said as he carefully moved forward.
The images from the soldier's memory were still vivid in his head, making the place look oddly familiar. He knew where each door was located and what was behind it. This floor was mainly used by the serving staff, but that didn't mean that soldiers weren't waiting for them with guns ready, hiding behind corners and doors to supply closets.
The other thing that remained stuck in Max's mind from that short peek was the face of the doctor. The soldier was even more afraid of him than his higher-ups in the Revolutionary Guard. And now, that face was burned into Max's memory.
Next to him, he heard Drova's heavy breathing, and he glanced at her to see if she was okay. The girl was barely seventeen, a fledgling warrior with a compulsion power that could freeze everyone within earshot, but she was still a kid.
She'd proven her worth in the courtyard and before that during the Beverly Hills mission, but her eyes revealed the aftershocks of what she'd witnessed.
A session or two with Vanessa might be in order.
Max took the lead, raised his weapon, and moved forward with Jade by his side and Anton and Dima slithering along behind them like a pair of coiled cobras while keeping Drova protected between them.
The corridor was only partially lit by intermittent overhead fixtures, some flickering, some shattered. Every few yards, bullet holes marred the walls, and the sour tang of spent rounds hung thickly in the air. The place was in disrepair, and it wasn't just because of the current battle. It was years of neglect.
They slipped around a corner where two uniformed men crouched behind an overturned desk, the stench of fear radiating from them. The muzzle of a rifle peeked above the desk edge, trembling. Max signaled to Drova with a curt jerk of his chin. She understood instantly. These were humans, and her compulsion was sure to work on them.
A sharp crack tore the air, and Drova cried out, staggering sideways. A streak of bright red blossomed along her shoulder, near her collarbone.
"Drova!" Jade lunged, grabbing her daughter before she hit the ground.
A roar like thunder reverberated through Max's skull as Jade's sidearm joined his, unleashing a volley of gunfire into the men behind the desk. One soldier toppled backward with a strangled cry, the other slumped sideways, dead eyes still wide in shock. Blood pooled beneath the makeshift barricade. Their weapons clanked uselessly to the floor.
For a second, everything went eerily silent. Drova crumpled against her mother, breathing raggedly, one hand pressed to the wound at her shoulder. Jade's face twisted with fury as she knelt, examining the injury. The bullet must have torn through the muscle, maybe grazed bone. Drova's dark eyes welled with tears, but she didn't utter a sound.
She tried to stand, but Jade clutched her protectively.
"Don't move," Jade growled. Her free hand pressed onto Drova's shoulder, stanching the blood. Beneath Jade's fierce persona was a surge of maternal worry that practically radiated from her every movement. "I need to dress your wound."
Given how fierce the Kra-ell were, it was easy to forget that they didn't heal as fast as immortals and that Drova would need a few days for her injury to recover.
They'd just lost their compeller.
Drova couldn't project a command if she could barely breathe.
Max cursed silently.
Without her, they'd have to rely on brute force, which, thankfully, Dima and Anton had in spades. The Kra-ell hybrids were a force to be reckoned with in close combat.
As a dozen uniformed figures materialized behind them, rifles spitting bullets, the two Kra-ell hybrids responded with lethal efficiency, moving like specters, darting side to side, returning fire, and cutting them down.
Shots rang out, muzzle flashes igniting the gloom. A bullet ricocheted, sending fragments of concrete into Max's face. He swore, leveling his own gun at a guard charging in front. Three short bursts from his semiautomatic weapon, and the guard collapsed, chest bloody and eyes blank.
One of the guard's companions sprinted forward, howling in either rage or terror. Anton swiveled with inhuman speed, caught him by the throat, and snapped his neck in a single motion. The limp body hit the ground with a sickening thud.
All at once, silence settled again. The bodies lay sprawled in disordered tangles, warm blood creeping across the tiled floor. Max's ears rang from the gunfire despite the sound being somewhat muted by his earpieces.
His gaze darted to Jade and Drova, the latter looking as pale as a ghost while her mother dressed her wound.
That she hadn't fainted from the pain was impressive.
"Stay with her," he told Jade. "We've gotta move."
Jade's jaw tightened, but she nodded. "The bullet's gone through—she'll heal, but it'll take time." She glanced at Drova's face, brushing the girl's sweaty hair aside. "You'll be fine."
Max nodded, checked his ammo, and notified Yamanu of the situation and Jade's location. "Anton, Dima, you're with me."
The Kra-ell were splattered with gore from the men they'd killed, and their fangs were on full display. As hybrids, they didn't look as alien as the purebloods, but right now, no one would have mistaken them for humans.
Together, the three of them advanced through the corridor, leaving Jade to guard Drova and their backs.
It was eerily quiet with no shots being fired, but Max had no doubt that he was about to encounter more soldiers and probably Doomers.
Yamanu's team would join them shortly, and together they would eliminate the last of the resistance.
The hallway veered to the left, and at the far end, a closed steel door barred the way.
"They must be holed up on the higher floors," Max muttered. "We need to go through this door to get to the stairs that lead to the third floor."
Anton, taller than Dima by a couple of inches, pressed his ear to the steel door. "I hear footsteps on the other side," he said, voice low. "Maybe five or six." His eyes flickered red for a moment, betraying his Kra-ell heritage. "We can breach fast as soon as the door is down."
After setting up the C4 explosives, Max joined the hybrids behind a corner and pressed the trigger. The door was blasted along with its frame.
Anton crouched, muscles coiled like a spring. They exchanged a silent count to three, and both charged through the blasted opening.
Flashes of muzzle fire greeted them. Bullets clanged on the twisted steel and ricocheted off the floor. One clipped Dima's shoulder, but the Kra-ell barely flinched. In a single motion, Dima flung himself past Max and Anton, crashing into the group of guards. Anton followed, a living avalanche. Max took advantage of the confusion, stepping through with his weapon raised, picking off a guard trying to line up a shot at Dima's back.
The chaos—screams, grunts, the wet sounds of fists on flesh, rifles clattering—was brief. Dima and Anton were an unstoppable force, like lions among sheep.
The last breathing guard tried to flee, stumbling over the corpse of a comrade, but before Max could raise his gun, Anton stepped in, hooked an arm around the man's waist, lifted then slammed him to the floor, headfirst—there was no room for mercy.
They couldn't leave witnesses, or the Brotherhood would learn who'd launched this attack, and worse, learn of the existence of the Kra-ell. They would eventually learn of the additional alien race present on Earth, but the longer it took, the better it was for the clan.
The Kra-ell were their secret weapon.
Dima panted, a shallow wound seeping from his arm, while Anton scanned ahead, not a single scratch visible on him.
Yamanu's voice came through the comms. "We are coming in behind you. All is secured outside. I instructed the pilots to be ready to pick us up directly from the courtyard. I'm bringing the rest of the team with me."
"We are waiting for you," Max said.
When the rest of the team cleared the blasted door, Anton frowned, looking alarmed. "Where is Mehira?"
Yamanu lifted a hand to calm him down. "Guarding the building's entrance so no one will sneak in behind us."
Anton nodded.
As they ascended the winding concrete steps, Drova had to lean on Jade for support, but Yamanu looked fully recovered.
The higher they went, the more potent the reek of fear became.
At the second-floor landing, they were surprised to find bodies—probably guards who'd been using the window to shoot down at the courtyard and got hit by Max's team's return fire.
The entire building was a war zone.
"Keep your eyes open," Max warned. "If any of them are Doomers, they might be already regenerating. They are immortal, and they heal as fast as we do."
"We know," Anton said in heavily accented English.
Dima nodded, lips curled back to expose his elongated canines. "They smell different."
That was good to know. Max wasn't aware that Doomers smelled differently than other immortals, but now was not the time to inquire in what way. If he had to guess, though, it would be that they reeked because they didn't shower as often as they should.
On the next landing, a battered metal sign read Third Floor .
Max felt a thread of ice trickle through his veins. He recalled the soldier's memory of the broad corridor and the rows of locked cells.
This was where they were keeping Kyra.