Chapter 18 #2
Discreetly, I look at Stryker a few steps away, debating my options.
He’s already made his stance clear on me wandering off alone because of the potential danger.
If I were to tell him I planned to walk straight into it, he’d lose his shit and haul my ass out of here.
Then that fox would wind up Fates only know where and for what purpose.
Because anyone buying animals on the black market?
They plan to get their money’s worth out of them.
“I need to run to the bathroom.”
Stryker steps away from his conversation instantly without a shred of remorse that the other guy was mid-sentence.
“Sure, let’s go.” His hand finds my lower back as he guides me through the throng of people, a buffer between me and the crowd so not a soul bumps into me.
Everything about his style of protectiveness is so natural, it’s easy to get swept away by it.
It makes me yearn for things I have no business wanting, but I can’t help but believe that being loved by Stryker Thorn is an experience I’d never recover from.
He’s the kind of man that gives you his undivided attention without ever asking for it, that takes care of people whether or not they’re part of his inner circle because he’s simply…
good like that. But those that make the cut?
Get a type of steadfast loyalty I can only dream about.
Do I feel bad about turning him into an accessory to a crime? A little. Am I going to do it anyway? Absolutely. Getaway drivers have the most important job in any crime, so he should feel honored, really.
Yeah, I’m not buying it either. But better to ask forgiveness than permission.
Once we’re outside the bathrooms, he pulls a knife from his pocket, placing it in my palm and curling my fingers around it firmly. “Anyone tries something, don’t hesitate.”
I almost say something stupid like ‘it’s just the bathroom, I’m not going to get jumped.
’ But in reality? Bathrooms are notorious for assaults because there aren’t any cameras.
And knowing that there’s a black market auction happening in the adjoining hall?
You bet your ass I clip that knife to my waistband.
“Thank you. Seriously, this means a lot.”
He sighs. “I don’t know what sort of assholes you’ve been around, but I desperately want to knock some sense into them. You don’t have to thank me for basic human decency, Kiara.”
“Yeah, actually. I do.”
His stormy grey eyes glint, but I slip into the bathroom before he can argue the point.
Because basic human decency is adults not talking shit about the ‘broken’ little girl my poor brother was saddled with raising without checking she wasn’t within earshot first. It’s not having to assume every single stranger is a threat simply because I’m a woman.
It’s getting a goddamn explanation for why your fated mate rejected you.
Resting my forehead against the door, I take a second to regroup; just one. Because there’s no time for pity parties in a world that doesn’t give a shit about your feelings.
Flipping the lock as quietly as possible, I rush over to one of the stalls and carefully climb up the back of the toilet so I can reach the air vent, extra grateful for Stryker’s knife now.
Only slicing my finger once, I get the screws off and the grate onto the floor, hauling myself inside.
After I heal the cut to ensure I don’t leave evidence behind, I army crawl through the layer of dust, biting my tongue to cope with the pain.
I use the concentration of mysts as a beacon to guide me around the twists and turns, hurrying as much as possible.
The last thing I want is to be gone for twenty minutes and him to think I’m in here with diarrhea or something equally embarrassing.
Finally, I find another grate and peer through the slats, frowning as I scan the room and try to make sense of the scene.
But the longer I stare, the sicker reality feels.
Crates upon crates are stacked in a storeroom, with several empty cages against one wall.
Only one is filled, a kitsune curled in on itself in the center, as if it’s trying to shrink down until it disappears from this nightmare.
No fox in sight. But I’m picking up on a myst’s energy signature in the room, despite the fact that nobody’s here.
Or at least, from this vantage point. The more I tune into it though, the more I realize I may be way in over my head.
Because it’s a shifter’s ability I’m sensing.
And the kitsune is the only soul in the room.
Red-tipped, silvery-white ears twitch before it glances up to where I’m hiding, blue eyes widening and rapidly shaking their head.
When I ignore them and pop the grate out, they shift back, slinging an arm over a very naked pair of breasts and vehemently whispers, “You have to get out of here! He’ll be back any minute. ”
That seals it for me and I lower myself as much as possible before dropping onto one of the crates stacked up beneath the air duct, then jumping down to the smooth, painted concrete floor. “Then we better hurry the fuck up and get you out of here.”
Flipping open the knife, I work the blade between the top hinge of the cage door.
It’s not my first time breaking and entering, but I don’t have anywhere near the kind of lockpicking skills required to pull it off with only a knife.
People always forget about the door hinges, though.
Not all of them are easy to pry the pin out or break, but it’s a better chance of busting them than the locking mechanism in most mainstream animal cages.
Once the blade’s wedged firmly in place, I use my body weight for leverage, heart racing as nothing happens at first. But another few seconds of pressure and it starts to budge.
“What’s your name?” I grit out.
A long beat of silence. “Y-Yukina.”
“I’m Kiara. Wish we’d met under better circumstances, Yukina, but we’re going to fast-track our newfound friendship, ‘kay? So here’s what we’re going to do.
As soon as I get this door open, you’re going to sprint back up into that vent and get the hell out of here.
Don’t wait for me, understand? You’ll be faster and harder to catch on your own than if we stick together, so leave me and make a break for it; I’ll catch up.
Take a left, right, then another left. There’s a man waiting for me outside the locked bathroom at the other end.
Hot, mercenary looking dude named Stryker.
He’s good people. He’ll get you somewhere safe, then come back for me if shit goes sideways. ”
Probably. I hope.
But honestly… I believe it. Believe in him. Stryker isn’t the kind of person to give up on someone, he’s the guy you trust to have your back. And right now? I’m really regretting not asking him to come with me.
“I can’t leave you,” she whispers.
“I’d be insulted if you didn’t.” A bead of sweat rolls down my temple and I grunt, the hilt digging into my palm as I push with all my might. “This isn’t exactly easy. Don’t spit in the face of my amazing rescue by not escaping.”
She starts to respond, but clams up so fast, I look up to check on her… only to find her staring wide-eyed over my shoulder. Before I can turn to see what spooked her, the sound of a gun cocking as it presses into the back of my head has me freezing in place.
“Well, well, well, what have we here?” A dark chuckle proceeds him plucking the knife out of my hand.
“Stand up and let me get a look at you. Slowly now.” Gritting my teeth, I follow his instructions, reaching out to borrow his powers, but find him infuriatingly useless.
Ability to mask his presence; fat load of good that does me now.
Greasy black hair is slicked back, patchy facial hair trimmed, and a wrinkled suit that doesn’t quite fit right, it’s easy to peg him as a grunt that was ordered to dress up for the event.
Which begs the question; how many other people were already sold if Yukina is the last one on the auction block?
A slow smirk curves his lips as he leisurely runs his gaze over me from head to toe, assessing.
“If I'd known the job came with these kinds of pretty perks, I'd have volunteered for warehouse duty sooner.” With his free hand, he grips my forearm hard enough to bruise and stows his gun, swapping it for the keys in his pocket.
“Looks like you've got a roommate, Foxy, and I’m in for one hell of a bonus.”
Yukina’s already shifted by the time I risk taking one eye off the threat, shrinking back in her cage, and I don’t blame her in the slightest. It’s the only protection she’s got from this creep, since the scumbags didn’t even leave her a pair of underwear before planning to parade her in front of potential buyers.
Before he can find the right key single-handedly, he catches sight of my inner wrist and pauses with a low whistle. “A center?”
I shudder as he licks his lips slowly, tucking the keys back in his pocket and drawing his gun from the holster on his hip.
He holds it casually, not really aimed at me, but the message is clear.
He has all the power right now, and even if he won’t kill me, I have no doubt he’ll shoot me in the leg if I try to run.
“On second thought, you're coming with me.” Behind him, a silver mist frames his silhouette, and I frown, wondering if my mimic ability is more damaged than I realized. “Price you'll fetch? I'll be set for lif-”