Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
“There is nothing between me and Nadya.”
On that note, he flew himself in a scatter back to Hell.
Which seemed the only proper destination for him.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
As Kane re-formed off to the side of the abandoned hospital, he fell into a run. The gunshots in the back of the building were a snare drum of aggression, and his only thought was that he wished like hell he had more backup. More guns. More ammo.
Mayhem reappeared next to him, also in mid-stride. “That’s where our party is.”
I fucking know that, Kane wanted to holler as they bolted down the flank of the old brick building.
They didn’t make it all the way around. Just as they were coming to the corner, as the smell of gunpowder, sweat, and blood wafted on a gust right into his central nervous system, a figure appeared from out of nowhere.
A figure dressed in black and holstered with weapons.
But it wasn’t Lucan. And it wasn’t a guard. And… it wasn’t the enemy.
As Kane skidded to a halt, Mayhem did the same. After which they just stood there panting.
“Jackal?” Kane shook his head to clear it. “Is it… you?”
Their old friend, who had escaped thanks to Kane’s sacrifice, was staring across like he’d seen a ghost. “Kane? What happened to you—I thought you were dead.”
“Oh, my God, do you have good timing,” Mayhem cut in as he jumped forward and embraced the male they all had thought they’d never see again. “How the hell did you find us?”
The Jackal hugged the male absently, still staring over that shoulder at Kane, eyes bouncing around—and it was funny. Everybody who’d seen him since that old female had worked her magic, or whatever the hell it was, was used to the resurrection.
The Jackal’s astonishment, to the contrary, was because Kane should never have survived the explosion of his restraint collar in the first place.
Kane stepped forward and put out his hand. “There’s no time for explanations for anything.”
“Yes,” the Jackal whispered as they shook. “You’re… right.”
Kane pointed with his weapon to the parking lot. “We think the guards might have taken someone who isn’t their problem to the prison, and we believe Apex has gone in there, alone. We’ve got to save the both of them.”
The Jackal just kept staring at Kane. But then a bullet sizzled by the male’s head and snapped the former prisoner out of his holy-shit.
“Let’s go,” Kane said. “If we survive, I promise I’ll tell you everything.”
When the Jackal nodded, the three of them moved into position at the corner of the building, peering around what cover they had. Guards were using the lineup of trucks and other vehicles as a shield, trading fire with a target that was not visible, but was clearly trying to get inside the prison itself. There was also a flank inside the ring of forest, their shadowy figures moving in and among the tree line.
“How do we get in?” the Jackal asked.
“I have an access code to the keypads.” Mayhem glanced back. “But not everything is locked that way anymore, and I’m worried they changed the codes anyway after our escape. It’s the first thing I’d do. I need to get to the back door that goes into the Executioner’s private quarters to try what I have.”
“That male is in charge now?” the Jackal muttered. “Great.”
“No, we killed him. Now it’s someone worse.”
“Of course it is.”
Kane was about to suggest a strategy when the wind changed direction, and the instant he felt the breeze on the back of his neck, he knew their presence was going to get announced. Sure enough, as their scents blew in to the guards, the gunfire that rained on them was well aimed and well timed.
Which was to say it was an absolute barrage.
As they returned fire at the guards, and bullets were traded in waves, they were forced back—and Kane experienced the strangest focus. Instead of being scattered and panicking, he became more and more calm as Mayhem and then the Jackal dematerialized up into the first aboveground floor for protection.
As opposed to taking their very prudent lead, he stayed where he was, even as the males stuck their heads out through some broken panes of glass and urged him to follow.
The inside of him was taking over. He could feel it.
And then… something happened.
His body floated off. That was the only way he could describe it. One moment he was up on his feet, shooting, ducking bullets. The next, he was flying.
No, he wasn’t in the air…
He was on the ground. Moving smoothly through the grass. Staring out of a different set of eyes: The color of the world was suddenly in shades of red, all of the other hues gone.
With a strange sense of peace, he capitulated to the transformation, and the more he went with the altering of his form, the more leeway he was given in terms of awareness: He could feel the different sensations on his belly, the leaves of weeds, the coarse sand and small pebbles, the dirt. But the scents in his nose were not the same. Or perhaps, they were the same sources, but registered in a different way. Sounds were nothing as they usually were, either, the noises of the gunfight, the yelling, the footfalls, like the ocean rushing against a shore and retreating, undifferentiated.