today,” he said, leaning on the door, his long black hair falling to cover his face. “Please.”
“What could you possibly ever say to me?” I finally asked. “Would you apologize for the killing?”
“You kill too,” he said with a sigh. “Don’t—”
“I don’t kill children,” I hissed. “You did. Would still be doing it if not for me. I kill criminals like you, not children. Never children.”
“I wasn’t…”
“I don’t need to hear it. Be quiet.” I started walking to the other cell. “I’m only here for a standard review and—”
“That’s why we need to speak—”
“NOW!” someone roared.
I was turning back to him, ready to lay into him, practically foaming at the mouth when the world turned red from the overhead lights, and a screeching sound pierced my ears. Mechanical noises could be heard everywhere, and someone started shouting as I grabbed Raphael and felt him grasp for me as well.
I pulled him back just in time to stop a cell door from slamming into him, backing up into the bars as all the doors began to open. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me into his chest for some reason as if he wanted to protect me. Then an explosion blew out the wall to the yard and sent us into the wall.
7
Chapter Seven
I didn’t have time to think as my back hit concrete before I fell to the ground. For a moment, I was too dazed to understand what had just happened. I was numb and paralyzed, uncomprehending. It took a moment to notice, but I finally found something to latch onto, a sensation I could never ignore, even when I tried—Raphael over me, his body my only indication I was alive. I could feel the heat radiating off him, and it held me in the moment and reminded me something was wrong. I tried to breathe, getting a lungful of dust and debris. My seizing lungs were even more of an indication I wasn’t out of the mortal plane yet. Thinking of dust and smoke gave me the last piece I needed to figure out, even dazed, what the hell had just happened.
“Kaliya?” he groaned. My vision was blurry and obscured, but I could make out the rough angles of his face, the dark hair, and the rough size of him. Much after that was hard since my head hurt, and the thick smoke was making my eyes water.
“Raphael, move,” I said, gasping for air. He wasn’t heavy on me, but between him and the smoke, I needed air, and I wasn’t getting enough. On top of that, we were in a bad position—a very bad position.
“What—”
I didn’t hear the rest because he was suddenly gone, a blur of his body moving away all I could see. I blinked several times, trying to clear my vision, wondering who was standing over me. My ears were ringing, but dark shapes danced in front of me. One was taken out by one. Then a third showed up. I needed to move, but before I could find my feet, something slammed into my ribs, and I was sent over rubble and into a flat object. I scrambled to grab onto anything, finding a handle to a cell door to use as leverage and pulled myself to my feet. I was able to make it to my feet this time, but it didn’t prepare me for a mean right hook that sent my head into the concrete wall. My ears rang painfully, but I was able to get a view of my attacker. I didn’t have any bad blood with the werewolf except for the fact I was an Executioner, and he was a high-security inmate. By the look on his face, he wanted me dead during the madhouse and was willing to see it happen.
Ducking, I was able to dodge his second swing and pulled out a dagger. It was sloppy, but I was able to shove it into his gut as I stumbled away from the door and wall. Desperate, I stabbed him repeatedly, glad I carried silver at all times, just in case. Silver and iron were the two things every supernatural needed.
Blood poured on my hand, hot and fast, but I kept stabbing, hoping I hit something vital as the werewolf screamed and brought an elbow down on my back, knocking me down. He was able to stagger away from me, but when I looked up, I saw my job was done. He fell in front of me, bleeding