Chapter 26 #3
He says nothing as he whirls around to the cage.
My cage. I don’t have to look to know what he sees.
The collar still hangs suspended from the eight chains holding it in place, barely swaying with nothing to hold onto.
My shackles lie abandoned beneath. Something raw gurgles in his throat.
Nyx’s chest rises and falls as something violent settles over him.
“Nyx,” I call again. “I’m fine.” The lie sounds weak, even to me.
Nyx’s nostrils flare as his head snaps back to me, refusing to meet my eyes as his own settle again onto my neck. The room is erupting around us. Gunfire and shouting. But all Nyx sees is that collar.
“I’m okay,” I murmur, gripping my blades tightly.
Nyx doesn’t look away from me as his hand closes around the hatchet hanging loosely from his belt.
He steps around me without breaking eye contact, Vincent’s battered body nothing more than a destination in his periphery.
The B.A.I.T leader lies motionless on the concrete, face half caved in.
Only then does Nyx’s gaze leave mine. He doesn’t hesitate a second as he raises the hatchet above his head, and swings it clean across Vincent’s neck.
Then something shutters behind Nyx’s eyes. He gives a single sharp nod and rolls his shoulders, taking his place again at my side. This time, I make room for him. No words are said as we move together, shoulder to shoulder around the corner.
Cracks of gunfire fill the air. Bodies folding as we dance.
Nyx doesn’t miss; he’s a man on a mission.
Out for blood. I raise my gun and flow into that swirling rage.
The bullets from my gun come fast and precise.
The man in front of me jerks, red blooming across his chest as he collapses into the others behind him. Down they go one by one.
My slide locks back with a dry, ugly click. Dang it, Jett.
Empty. I don’t slow; I turn and draw my blades.
“Go Florence, I’ve got you.” Jett rushes behind me, an assault rifle lodged perfectly in his shoulder. I step into the oncoming rush and slash upward, catching an open throat, pivoting as another barrels toward me.
My blades sink between my attacker’s ribs, before I wrench free and spin, momentum carrying me through the next strike.
Bodies crash and someone screams. To my left, Nyx is suddenly there, his gun discarded, fists doing what bullets can’t need anymore.
He slips his hatchet from his belt and begins hacking his way through the chaos, moving through them like a steel breeze in the night. Efficient and brutal.
I carve a path forward, blades flashing, arms burning and breath sharp in my lungs.
Blood slicks thick across the floor, but I don’t think or hesitate as I slide through it, the liquid thick and gushy between my toes.
There is only distance and threat. Nyx and Jett clear my flank without a word.
I finish what’s in front of me. Together, we advance, synchronized violence in motion.
The door rolls open with more bodies flowing in, a mixture of T.A.L.O.N and B.A.I.T colliding through all openings and skylights, glass raining down above as they all crash through. A sharp cry snaps my attention. Jett goes down hard behind me, clutching his thigh as red spills between his fingers.
“Jett!” I scream.
He grits his teeth, throwing his head back in pain.
“Go,” he snaps. “I can get them from here.”
I yank off my belt, wedging the last blade between my teeth.
I fall to his side, slipping the leather beneath his thigh, and begin twisting.
He roars in agony as I tie it tight, his knuckles gripping white against his rifle.
I loop my arms under his and haul him behind a wooden crate.
“I’ll get help!” I yell over the blasts.
Jett only nods his head, positioning his rifle back into place. He fires behind me, steady despite the pain, and holds the line.
I nod once, turning back to the chaos. Through the blur, Jasper bursts through the rolling doorway, relief flooding his face as he finds me. Cici is on his heels colliding into his back. Wait. Cici? She’s not supposed to be on the?—
“Florence!” she cries, stumbling around him, running through the blur. I surge forward, sprinting to my best friend. Jasper is hot on her trail, taking out any potential threats at her back.
Movement catches the corner of my eye as a man between us stumbles to his feet, blood pouring from his chest, gun wobbling in his mangled hand. I trace his aim. And then I scream.
The shot hits, and my heart stops. Cici drops, the world collapsing with her.
I hurl the blade as hard as I can between the man’s eyes, sending him right back where he came from.
I drop the rest of my knives and fall to the floor before her.
My hands tremble over her body as I search frantically across her suit.
Just an inch beneath her bullet proof vest, blood begins to seep into the fabric.
I press my hand tightly to the wound as the crimson spreads like wildfire. “No, no, no, Cici, stay with me.” My voice is hoarse. “Please!”
Her eyes find mine. She weakly raises her hand, wiggling her fingers beneath her chin before it falls limply to the floor, her eyes rolling back.