Chapter 19
Wren
His grip is iron-tight; one arm is wrapped around my middle, the other holds the knife. The blade at my throat is pressed a little too tightly against my skin. There is a sting, and a drop or two of blood runs down my throat, tickling me.
The male’s breath is hot and ragged. He’s breathing too fast. I think he’s nervous.
Well, join the club, buddy. I’m crapping myself as well.
They’re using us as human shields. I’m praying that Grim is wrong about all of this. I pray even harder that this is all some terrible misunderstanding. That Draig Security isn’t really planning to storm this building to kill us all.
They wouldn’t do that. They couldn’t. Surely?
This is Draig Island. These are the good guys. They protect people. They save lives.
Glass shatters, the sound comes from everywhere at once.
This is it.
They’re coming.
I cringe, every muscle in my body tensing, waiting for the knife to slice across my throat.
At least I’ll bleed out quickly.
Instead, the male holding me shoves me away with such force that I fly through the air. Then I slam into the reception desk, my hip connecting with the edge.
Pain explodes through my side.
Gunfire erupts.
The sound is deafening, making my ears ring. I slide across the desk’s surface, tumbling off the back just as bullets tear through the place.
They’re shooting at us. They don’t care about hostages…about us.
I land hard behind the desk, a wall at my back giving me some cover. I roll under the reception desk, barely fitting in the cramped space. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it over the gunfire.
I scan the room from my hiding spot.
Men in black combat gear storm through the shattered entrance, automatic weapons raised. I’m not completely convinced that they’re shifters. I think they might be human, which doesn’t make any sense.
My hands shake as I fumble for my phone in my pocket.
One of the anti-vaxxers goes down, blood spraying from his chest.
I manage to pull it out, my fingers slippery with sweat, and I start filming.
Another takes a bullet to the head and crumples.
I have to document this. Someone needs to see what’s really happening here.
Through my phone’s screen, I watch as another anti-vaxxer tries to crawl away, dragging himself across the floor with his arms. A security officer walks up to him, points his weapon down, and fires.
The male goes still and crumples in a heap.
I whimper, pressing my free hand over my mouth to stifle the sound.
This isn’t a rescue operation. This is an execution.
Movement catches my eye. Sally is standing up, stumbling toward one of the security guards. Her hands are raised, tears streaming down her face.
“Help me!” she’s screaming. “Please! Save me! I’m a hostage! Please!”
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “Sally, no.”
The guard shoots her at point-blank range in the chest. It’s clear that she isn’t a threat, that she’s a hostage and an employee of the center.
What the hell!
No!
“Sally!” I scream, tears rolling down my cheeks. I know I should keep quiet, but it isn’t going to help me.
She goes down, her face a mask of shock and pain. There’s so much blood.
No, no, no, no, no.
A bullet hits Grim’s arm; his body jerks, but that’s all the indication he gives that he was shot. He ducks behind the remains of a file cabinet.
We’re dead. We’re all dead.
I can’t think of anything that would help us. There’s no way out. No escape. We’re trapped like rats, and they’re picking us off one by one.
I keep filming through my tears, my phone shaking in my grip. I’m not sure what good it will do, but I have to try. More men in combat uniforms stream through the entrance, their weapons trained on anything that moves.
Another anti-vaxxer is shot in the back several times as he tries to run. He falls face-first, his body twitching once before going still.
Kaine takes a bullet to the leg and goes down with a roar of pain.
All is lost.
Then I hear a cracking sound like branches snapping.
I’ve only heard it once before. Grim shifts.
It happens quickly. The transformation takes less than a second.
It sounds like the roof is being torn from the building with a loud ripping noise.
Sunlight streams in. Bricks and plaster rain down, and I’m glad I’m under the sturdy reception desk.
The men in combat gear scatter, taking cover.
I can’t see much of Grim’s dragon from this angle, just his claws and legs, as well as his deadly spiked tail.
The security forces start shooting at him, and I expect him to tear into them, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he starts toward my hiding place. There is more tearing and cracking. More plaster, bricks, and drywall rain down.
The reception desk is ripped away, and I’m looking up at his dragon.
A talon closes around me, surprisingly gentle despite its size. Then we’re taking off through the destroyed ceiling and into open air.
I gasp in shock.
The ascent is so sudden, so fast, that it jerks me hard. The cellphone slips from my grip.
“No!” I scream, but the word is swallowed by the rushing wind.
I watch in horror as the phone hits the floor, then slides across the tiles and disappears under the corner cabinet. It happens so quickly that if I blinked, I would have missed it.
All that evidence. Gone.
My stomach drops as we shoot into the sky. I gag, grateful I didn’t get to eat lunch, or it would be coming out of me right now.
We climb higher and higher, and I feel sicker and sicker. I might not have anything in my stomach, but I’m going to throw up if we don’t stop soon.
I scream as the ground falls away at a dizzying speed. My vision starts to blur at the edges when we come to a sudden stop. My stomach lurches all over again, my mouth filling with saliva, which I swallow down.
A helicopter appears, the one that’s been circling overhead. It banks hard, coming after us. Through the open door, I can see men with weapons.
I want to care. I know I should, but I’m too busy trying not to puke.
Bullets whizz past us.
They’re shooting at us.
I groan, unable to do anything else.
Grim’s dragon twists suddenly, making me groan again. More saliva fills my mouth.
He screeches, and the sound is pure rage.
They keep firing at us, but I can’t see them anymore. I realize that Grim’s dragon has positioned himself between me and them…the enemy.
He screeches again, the sound more terrifying than the last. Then he goes after the chopper.
I hear thuds and pings and rapid fire, and realize that the bullets are hitting Grim.
I scream his name.
I half expect him to fall from the sky at any moment.
A dragon might be mighty and strong, but it has a heart and blood, which means it can bleed. Anything that can bleed can die, no matter how big and powerful it is.
The bullets keep flying, keep hitting their mark, but Grim keeps advancing on the helicopter. Maybe his scales are hard enough to keep them from penetrating. Maybe it’s his advanced healing or a combination of both. All I know is that he doesn’t so much as flinch with each ping or thud.
He stops so suddenly that I feel like I might jerk out of his grip. Then he whips around, his tail connecting with the chopper’s rear rotor.
The aircraft starts spinning wildly, completely out of control. One of the men in the doorway loses his grip and falls, his scream fading as he plummets toward the ground far below.
The pilot is fighting for control, the helicopter tilting at a dangerous angle.
But Grim keeps advancing, clearly intent on taking it down completely.
“No!” I scream, my voice raw. “Leave it. Please. Let’s go. Let’s get out of here. Grim!”
If he takes it down, the helicopter could crash into someone’s house. It could kill innocent people who have nothing to do with any of this. And I know that Grim the man wouldn’t want that to happen. I also know that they could send more choppers at any second. We need to leave while we still can.
“Please!” I shout again. “We have to go.”
Grim screeches, a sound of pure frustration, but he banks away from the helicopter.
And then we’re flying again, moving so fast that the wind tears at my hair and clothes.
It feels like the air is being sucked from my lungs.
I cling to him for dear life. I think I might even say a prayer or two or half a dozen.
I hate being up here so high off the ground, but the thought of landing terrifies me just as much as being up here.
Then we’re dropping from the sky, and I forget about every other fear except the fear of crash landing.
Grim was hit by too many bullets. He’s injured. Too injured to keep flying. It must be that. He’s about to crash land.
My vision turns spotty. The world spins around me in a nauseating blur of sky and ground and sky again.
I must pass out because the next thing I know, I’m jolting awake as Grim’s talons open and I land in a heap on the ground. Pain shoots through my shoulder and hip, but I’m alive.
I’m alive.
I groan, lying still for a few moments. The pain in my hip subsides. I move my shoulder, and it’s fine. I think I’m fine.
Grim’s dragon stands over me, smoke wafting from his nostrils. He’s breathing hard, his chest heaving.
“You saved me,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. My whole body is shaking. “I would really appreciate it if you didn’t kill me now…please.”
He cocks his head, studying me. I know he can’t understand me in this form, but we talk to animals all the time. I like talking to my dogs, and I know for a fact that they understand some of what I tell them. I’m hoping he hears my tone and doesn’t turn me to ash.
I force myself to take a few calming breaths. I need to keep my cool. Animals can sense fear. They can smell it.
The intelligence in his gaze should terrify me. Actually, it does terrify me, but I can’t show it.
“What’s going on inside your mind?” I ask softly.
I slowly get to my feet, my eyes never leaving his. My legs feel like jelly, but I manage to stay upright.
He’s looking at me with interest, but I’m not sure what kind. Does he want to be friends? Or does he want to end me?
“It would be great if you would let Grim—”
I don’t get to finish my sentence because my head starts throbbing.
It’s that same pain from before, sharp and searing, like someone’s driving a spike through my skull. Within seconds, I’m in agony, clutching my temples and groaning. I’m praying it stops, but it doesn’t. It’s more insistent than the last time.
“Nooooooooo! Stop it!” I finally scream. “Stop!”
The pain vanishes in the next instant, leaving me gasping.
I’m breathing hard and fast, my hands still pressed to my temples. There’s a ringing in my ears that slowly fades.
“What the hell?” I choke out. Why is this happening again?
Then I remember that I’m still in the sights of a huge dragon. I look up at him.
He makes a rumbling noise. He doesn’t sound menacing, which gives me some hope of making it out of this alive.
Before I can do anything, pain explodes in my head all over again, this time, worse than before. So much worse. It feels like my skull is splitting apart.
I think I’m going to die.
Through the agony, I hear something. A whisper that isn’t quite a voice. It’s just a word.
Human.
I stagger and fall to my knees. I’m going to pass out. I scream so loudly that my throat hurts.
“Stop!” I scream, tears streaming down my face. “Please, just stop! I can’t—”
I fall over and realize it’s because the dragon nudged me. He does it again. It’s like he’s trying to tell me something, but I don’t speak dragon. Besides, I can’t think through all the pain.
I’m gritting my teeth so hard I fear they might crack. Right now, I don’t care.
He nudges me again, making me roll over onto my stomach. I twist to keep my eyes on him.
“Grim!” I sob, clutching my temples. “I want Grim! Please shift…please.” My voice sounds as agonized as I feel.
There’s something wrong with me. Something very wrong.
I’m begging now, not even caring how desperate I sound.
“Please!” I cry. “Grim, please. Come back. I need you,” I whisper, gasping for air. My eyes are so wide. My eyeballs feel like they’re popping out. Maybe he will know what to do. Maybe—
The pain ends like it was never there.
The dragon and I stare at each other for a few seconds. I’m still trying to catch my breath. Right now, I don’t care if he kills me.
It doesn’t happen. Instead, he shifts. It happens quickly. His body contracts, scales receding, wings folding in and disappearing.
I roll onto my back and pull myself up onto my elbows. I’m still breathing hard.
He’s tall and muscular, and— He has a great gaping wound on his side, just below his ribs.
It’s oozing blood. It looks nasty. One of the many bullets must have found purchase.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, since he was shot so many times.
His arm is sliced at the bicep, but it doesn’t look nearly as bad as the one on his torso.
I push up, readying to stand.
“Wren,” he gasps.
Then he drops to his knees.
His eyes roll back, and he collapses forward.
I lunge instinctively, catching him before his head cracks against the ground. His weight nearly crushes me, and I go down with him, cushioning his fall as best I can.
“Grim.” My hands hover over the wound, not sure whether to apply pressure or if that will make it worse. “No, no, no. Grim, wake up. Please wake up.”
But he’s out cold, his breathing shallow and labored.
His skin is hot, but at the same time, he’s so incredibly pale.
I look around for the first time, noting that we seem to be in the middle of nowhere, with no phone, no help, and security forces that want us dead.
A sob catches in my throat.