Chapter 39 #2
Looking down at myself, I can see the evidence of her makeshift field surgery. Torn strips of fabric are wrapped around my chest and arms. The bleeding has stopped, but everything aches with a deep, persistent throb.
Maya helps me sit up, supporting my weight as the hallway spins around me. The sheet beneath us is stained with blood and other fluids I don’t want to identify.
“Can you walk?” she asks, her voice tight with urgency.
I test my legs, surprised when they hold my weight despite their trembling. “I think so.”
Maya presses something into my hand—the scalpel, still stained with Thane’s blood. “This is the only weapon I could find.”
I close my fingers around the familiar weight of a blade, the metal cold against my palm. It’s not much of a weapon, but it’s better than being defenseless.
“How did you get past the guards?” I ask, struggling to my feet with her help.
Maya shakes her head, purple strands escaping from her disheveled hair. “There weren’t any.”
That stops me cold. “What do you mean there weren’t any?”
“I mean the lab was empty except for us. No guards, no assistants, just Thane.” She glances back the way we came, her face pale. “When I finally found the keys and got out of that cage, I expected to fight my way through a dozen men. But there was no one.”
A chill runs down my spine as the implications sink in. An Inquisitor conducting illegal experiments in a secret facility, working alone without backup? Either Thane was incredibly arrogant, or...
“The alarm,” I realize aloud, my stomach dropping. “It’s not for our escape.”
Maya’s eyes widen as understanding dawns on her face. “Then what?—“
Another alarm joins the first, this one deeper, more urgent. The emergency lighting shifts from red to orange, and somewhere in the distance, I hear the unmistakable sound of shouting.
“We need to move,” I say, taking the scalpel from her and checking both directions down the hallway. “Now.”
I feel my body go rigid as I hear the distant shout, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Freeze!”
Maya’s hand finds my shoulder, her fingers digging in with desperate strength.
The guard stands at the far end of the corridor, maybe fifty yards away. His rifle is already rising to his shoulder, the dark barrel tracking toward us with mechanical precision. At this distance, the scalpel in my hand might as well be a butter knife.
I shove Maya behind me without thinking, my body moving on instinct even as my mind calculates our odds. Terrible. Worse than the worst I can imagine.
“Get down,” I rasp, pushing her toward the wall.
The guard’s rifle locks onto us. I can see his finger tightening on the trigger, the moment of decision balanced on a knife’s edge. This is it. After everything we’ve survived, we’re going to die in this sterile hallway like rats in a maze.
A silver streak cuts through the air beside the guard’s neck.
Blood erupts in a crimson spray as the blade bites deep. The guard’s eyes widen in shock, his rifle wavering as his hands fly to his throat. Dark liquid pours between his fingers as he staggers sideways, confusion replacing aggression on his face.
Poe steps out of the shadows like death itself, his movements fluid and controlled. The guard collapses slowly, his weapon clattering uselessly to the floor as life drains from his eyes.
I nearly collapse backward against Maya in relief, my legs turning to water. The scalpel tumbles from my nerveless fingers as the adrenaline crash hits me all at once.
“Took you long enough,” Maya breathes, though her voice shakes with relief.
Poe approaches us at a measured pace, avoiding the spreading pool of blood around the fallen guard. His dark eyes assess our condition with clinical efficiency—the makeshift bandages, my obvious weakness, Maya’s torn nightdress.
“Status report,” he says simply.
“Thane is dead,” I tell him. “I’m injured, but mobile. How did you find us?”
“Maya has a tracking implant,” Poe explains, wiping blood from his blade before sheathing it. “Logan triangulated your location.” His gaze finds mine. “Can you move?”
I try to stand straighter, fighting the tremor in my legs. “I can manage.”
Poe nods curtly. “We’ve cleared most of the facility, but there are still hostiles between us and the exit. Stay close.”
He starts down the hallway, his movements predatory and silent. I try to follow, but my knees buckle after only a few steps. The blood loss and whatever drugs Thane pumped into my system have left me weaker than I want to admit.
“I’ve got you,” Maya whispers, slipping under my arm to support my weight.
Her warmth against my side is a lifeline I desperately need. Even without the shredded bond, her presence grounds me, gives me something to focus on besides the spinning hallway and the taste of copper in my mouth.
“Can you make it out on your own?” Poe asks, glancing back at us with concern.
I want to say yes, to maintain some shred of dignity. But as another wave of dizziness crashes over me, I realize pride is a luxury I can’t afford.
“I don’t think so,” I admit, leaning more heavily on Maya.
Poe doesn’t hesitate. He returns to us, sliding his arm around my waist to take some of my weight from Maya. “We’ll manage.”
Maya looks between us, then makes a decision that surprises me. “Give me your spare weapon,” she tells Poe. “If you’re supporting him, you have only one hand free.”
Poe’s eyebrows raise. “Maya?—”
“I know how to use it,” she insists. “You saw me with the knife.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Poe draws a compact pistol from his ankle holster and places it in her hands. “Safety’s already off. Just point and shoot.”
Maya’s fingers close around the grip with surprising familiarity. The weight of the weapon seems to steady her, transforming her from victim to something more dangerous.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” she says, her voice harder than I’ve ever heard it.
With Poe supporting one side and Maya armed and watching our backs, we make our way through the maze of corridors. The alarms continue wailing, emergency lights painting everything in hellish red. We pass several more bodies—guards taken down with Poe’s characteristic efficiency.
Each step is agony, but I force myself to keep moving. Maya and Poe are risking everything to get me out of here. I won’t let weakness slow us down.
We reach a set of heavy doors with a neon exit sound above it, when I hear familiar voices beyond them. Male voices, raised in urgent conversation.
Poe holds up a hand, signaling us to stop. He presses his ear to the door, listening.
“Two voices,” he whispers. “Logan and Ares. The door is locked from the other side. They’re discussing how to break it down.”
Relief floods through me. We made it. We’re going to survive this nightmare.
Poe pushes open the doors, revealing a small loading dock where our packmates wait.
Logan paces the concrete platform, his white uniform stained with blood that doesn’t appear to be his own.
Ares stands in front of a dark vehicle, weapon unslung and tension radiating from every line of his massive frame.
Both men turn as we emerge, and I see the exact moment Logan’s eyes find Maya. His expression shifts from relief to something darker, something possessive and desperate.
“Maya,” he breathes, starting toward us.
That’s when Maya raises the pistol, pointing it directly at Logan’s chest.
“Stop right there,” she says, her voice deadly calm.
Logan freezes, his golden eyes fixed on the weapon in her hands. Ares straightens, his own hand moving toward his concealed weapon, but Poe’s sharp gesture stops him.
“Maya,” Logan says carefully, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “Put the gun down.”
Her grip doesn’t waver. “No.”
The standoff stretches silently between them, loaded with months of hurt and betrayal. I lean heavily against Poe, watching as everything we’ve built threatens to collapse in this moment.
“What’s it going to be, princess?” Logan asks, his voice soft but edged with something dangerous.
“Justice.” Maya’s answer comes without hesitation, just before she pulls the trigger.