104
EMERSYN
Nyx was calm as he ripped my father’s vest off.
He barked orders to the others, but I couldn’t focus.
I looked down at the blood that coated my hands.
My father’s blood. They shook, and I clenched them tightly into fists.
The shock took my breath away, but it was replaced by a rage that was so overwhelming I thought I’d choke with it. I looked around the room.
“Where is he?” I demanded.
“He climbed out the window,” Graham said.
My father grabbed for me as I stumbled to my feet. “No,” he barked and winced. “Em, don’t—”
“I have to—” My voice came out barely audible from rage and the suffocating fear that I might lose my father…again. For good.
Before anyone could stop me, I turned and ran out of the room. My comms unit exploded. I heard my father and Nyx ordering me back until it all cut off, and one voice came through crystal clear.
“He headed toward the forest,” Graham said. “Ghost said there is a landing pad on the north side of the island. I’ll let Knight and the others know you’re coming.”
“Roger that.” I’d have to thank him later.
I raided a gas mask from a supply closet near a side door and stepped out into the night. It was silent except for the occasional pop of gunfire. The crackle of comms chatter was distracting, so I switched it off and took a deep breath as silence pressed in. I worked best alone anyway.
I met no opposition as I stalked towards the ominous trees that stood like darker shadows across the grounds.
Mahoney’s trail was blatant and confident.
He wasn’t hiding where he was going. Maybe he didn’t think anyone was going to follow him.
Joke’s on him—he was willingly walking into my domain.
There wasn’t a forest I couldn’t track in and despite the situation, despite my fear of what lay behind me, the thrill of the hunt set in.
I pulled on my gas mask at the edge of the woods.
Once in the trees, it was obvious Mahoney did indeed know of a safe path through the traps and tripwires.
I’d lost my night vision in the scuffle with Brooks, but I didn’t need it.
I could already see the light of Mahoney’s flashlight as it bobbed erratically.
I got closer, and he knocked a moth away from his face and shoved a wayward branch out of his way in irritation.
I continued to trail him—the sounds of the forest muted as we ventured deeper.
I settled into the cadence of a predator.
My breath was the wind moving through the canopy, my steps were softer than leaves falling—
Mahoney’s were not. He was not quiet. He was not subtle. He blundered through the woods—his usual suave grace reduced to stumbling steps and frustrated curses.
I cut ahead of him through the trees and found a tripwire I wanted. I carefully disengaged the trap and carried the entire thing to a section of the trail Mahoney was following. I set about re-rigging the device and then faded into the shadows to watch.
Mahoney’s steps didn’t slow as he stepped on the trip wire.
A branch with sharpened tips whispered through the air and plunged into his calf.
He howled a curse and collapsed into the dirt.
He clutched his leg and looked back at the damage.
Several of the pointed tips were embedded into his calf with two of them protruding all the way through.
Satisfaction rolled through me. I could have chosen the bear trap, but I only wanted to hinder him—hurt him a little bit—I wasn’t ready to kill him yet.
Mahoney’s hands shook as he pulled the spikes free. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and hastily wrapped his calf before he climbed back to his feet. He muttered curses and continued down the path with a noticeable limp. I smiled to myself and jumped ahead to look for another trap.