Chapter 6 #2
The third Trogvyk tried to back away, his boots scraping against the blood-slicked floor as he continued to fire wildly, the muzzle of his weapon flashing in rapid succession.
I closed the distance in two powerful strides and drove my fist clean through his ribcage.
I felt his heart give one final, stuttering beat before going still in my hand.
The fourth Trogvyk turned to run, but I caught him by the back of the neck, my claws digging into the soft flesh there.
I slammed him face-first into the wall with enough force that the plaster cracked and spider-webbed outward from the impact point.
His body went limp instantly, sliding down the wall and leaving a dark smear of blood in its wake. He didn't get up.
Hewes was dragging Ellie toward a side door across the room, his arm locked around her throat, using her slight frame as a shield. His eyes met mine over her shoulder, and I saw the cold calculation. He knew I wouldn't risk her.
"Let her go," I snarled, my voice coming out deeper, rougher, barely recognizable as my own.
He smiled, cold and cruel. "I don't think so."
I took a step forward, my claws still dripping with the blood of his guards, and he pressed something cold and metallic against Ellie's temple. A gun. The barrel left a small circular impression on her pale skin.
"One more step and she dies." His voice was steady and confident. Too confident.
I froze, every muscle in my body locked in place despite the adrenaline screaming at me to move, to act, to tear him apart.
Ellie's eyes were wide, terrified, her chest rising and falling with rapid, shallow breaths, but she wasn't crying.
She was watching me with those bright green eyes, trusting me to save her. I would not let her down.
"You're not going to shoot her," I said, forcing my voice to stay calm even as rage boiled beneath the surface. "She's worth more to you alive."
"Maybe," Hewes said, his finger resting on the trigger with casual ease. "But dead works too. Either way, you lose."
His mistake was thinking I'd hesitate.
I moved, faster than his human reflexes could possibly track, my body a blur of motion as I pulled my father's blade from the sheath at my belt and flung it.
The blade glinted in the light as it traveled end over end through the air, the tip finally embedding itself in his arm just above the wrist. Hewes howled in pain, his grip spasming open, and the gun clattered onto the carpet.
I grabbed Ellie, pulling her small body behind me as Hewes stumbled backward, his face contorted with shock and pain.
For a moment, our eyes locked. His wide with the sudden realization of his mortality, mine burning with desire to kill him. Then survival instinct kicked in, and he turned and ran, disappearing through the side door, screaming for his guards.
My father's blade was gone. Still embedded in Hewes' flesh. I would never see it again.
I should have felt the loss like a punch to the chest. Should have wanted to go after Hewes, pull the blade from his flesh, and use it to carve the life from him.
But when I looked at Ellie, alive and breathing, I felt nothing but relief. The blade had done its last duty. It had saved her. That was enough.
Some things were worth losing, and I knew deep down my father would be proud.
"We need to move," I said, turning to her, my hands already reaching for her shoulders to assess any injuries. "Now."
She nodded shakily, her face drained of color, but her jaw set with stubborn determination.
I scooped her up without asking permission, one arm sliding under her knees while the other wrapped securely around her back, pulling her against my chest. She was lighter than I expected, or maybe the adrenaline coursing through my veins made everything feel weightless.
I ran.
The yacht devolved into chaos behind us. Shouts echoed off polished wood panels, more gunfire cracked through the air, and the acrid smell of smoke burned my nostrils. I didn't look back. My entire focus narrowed to a single objective. Getting Ellie out, getting her somewhere safe.
I burst through the yacht's main entrance into the chilled night air, Ellie clutched tight against my chest, her heart hammering against my ribs. The SUVs stood out front in a neat row, engines still running with a low, rumbling idle.
Then I saw the agents.
They weren't running toward us in a protective formation. They weren't calling to check if we were okay or to see if the President was injured.
They were raising their weapons.
"Down!" I roared, twisting my body to shield Ellie as the first shots rang out, my shoulders hunching over her to make myself the only target.
Bullets whizzed past us in a distinctive high-pitched shriek, one so close I felt the sear of it against the exposed skin of my neck.
Another punched into the concrete steps beside us with a sharp crack, sending up a spray of pulverized debris.
These weren't warning shots fired into the air or at our feet. They were aiming to kill.
I jumped to my feet, keeping Ellie tight against my chest and ran.
Away from the SUVs, away from the agents who were supposed to protect her, who'd sworn oaths to take bullets for her.
My mind raced, calculating angles and trajectories, measuring distances and obstacles, mapping every possible escape route through the maze of parked vehicles and decorative planters.
There was only one option.
I released my wings from where I kept them folded tight against my back while in my human disguise. They tore through the back of my jacket as they unfurled, leathery and utterly inhuman. Ellie gasped against my chest, but she didn't scream.
I launched us into the air.
More gunfire erupted from below, a staccato symphony punctuated by brilliant orange flashes that strobed through the darkness.
I felt one bullet graze my leg, while another ricocheted off the tough membrane of my left wing with a sound like a beating drum.
I beat my wings harder, the powerful muscles in my back and shoulders burning with exertion as I gained altitude.
The Potomac stretched out before us, dark and wide, its surface reflecting the scattered lights of the city. They couldn't follow us here. Not easily.
I followed the river, each powerful stroke of my wings putting precious distance between us and the yacht, between us and whatever the hell had just happened.
Ellie was shaking in my arms. Not just trembling, but full-body shudders I felt through my chest, her heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
Her fingers dug into my shoulders, nails biting through the torn fabric of my jacket, holding on like I was the only solid thing left in a world that had just shattered around her.
"Madam President." My voice came out rough, the words grinding through my throat like gravel. "Are you hurt?"
She didn't answer right away. Just kept shaking, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps against the side of my neck, each exhale warm and ragged against my skin.
"Ellie," I said again, softer this time, gentling my tone as much as possible. "Talk to me. Are you alright?"
"Chase," she finally managed, her voice breaking on his name. "And Rivers? Are they…?"
"Dead," I said. No point in softening it. "Both of them."
She made a sound then, something between a sob and a gasp, a wounded noise that cut straight through my chest, and her shaking worsened.
I adjusted my grip, pulling her closer, trying to shield her from the icy wind whipping around us as we flew.
She had to be freezing, clad only in her silky dress.
"Chase was already dead," I told her, the words bitter on my tongue. "Long before tonight. He was a Trogvyk in disguise. Has been for Goddess only knows how long."
Her whole body went rigid, every muscle locking up as if she'd been struck. "What?"
"A Trogvyk," I repeated. "He wasn't Chase anymore. Maybe he never was."
She was crying now. I felt the wetness against my neck, hot tears that cooled quickly in the rushing wind, the broken sounds she was making muffled against my shoulder. I wanted to comfort her, wanted to tell her it would be okay, but I'd never been good at that. And besides, it would be a lie.
Nothing about this was okay.
"Hewes," she said suddenly, pulling back just enough to look at me, her eyes red-rimmed and streaming. "He knew. He knew about the plan to capture him. He knew everything."
My jaw tightened, muscles bunching beneath my skin. "How?"
"I don't know. But he did. We need to…" She swallowed hard, her throat working visibly as she tried to steady herself, tried to find the composure of the leader she was supposed to be. "We need to get to the White House. We need to.…"
"No." The word came out harsh, sharp as a blade. "Absolutely not."
"Rickon—"
"Your whole Secret Service detail has been compromised, Ellie. Hewes is embedded deeper than we ever imagined. If Chase was one of them, who else? How many others?" The questions hung in the air between us.
She shook her head, denial written across her features, but I caught the fear in her eyes, the dawning realization that crept across her face.
"He said something," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rush of wind and the steady beat of my wings. "Hewes. He said he controlled the White House. That I just didn't know it yet." Her voice cracked, splintering on the words. "We don't know who we can trust."
"No," I agreed, the single syllable heavy with grim certainty. "We don't."
"Then what do we do?"
I glanced down at the dark water below us, the Potomac's surface rippling with reflected light, then back toward the city lights in the distance, that sprawling constellation of power and corruption. There was only one being we could trust. "We contact the Prime."