Gavin snapped.
Suddenly he veered to the left, ripping a thick metal door out of the way. “Down here.”
Jormoi followed. “It was probably open, according to the cat.”
“Think about what you just said,” Gavin answered, pounding down one flight, then another.
“I don’t know how you know where we’re going,” Jormoi said. “But honestly, as long as we get to Esme in time, I don’t really care.”
“Good.” Gavin kicked another door out of the way, revealing yet another passageway, brightly lit this time. “Because I couldn’t tell you.”
They raced down the passageway, his attention focused on this new sensation, the slight changes that directed him towards her, like a blazing beacon calling him home.
Down another staircase, and finally there were signs of activity.
Jormoi glanced at him. “I don’t think they know we’re coming. They must not have cameras up at all, or even basic sensors.
This time his careful scenting was rewarded.
A dozen or more men, testosterone amped and blanketing the air, lay directly between him and Esme.
“This won’t take long,” he snarled, and together they burst into the room,
He caught a glimpse of four men sitting around a table, playing some sort of game, three others examining weapons in a corner, the rest scattered about the room.
“We’re just passing through,” he started.
But they weren’t listening, every one of them reaching for their weapons.
Fine. This would be faster than talking anyway.
With a roar Jormoi left over his shoulder, the golden sand cat streaking through the air to land in the middle of the table.
With unimaginable speed the scout spun, dispatching the four sitting there.
Gavin had his own prey to destroy.
Kill them.
Kill them all and revel in the battle, in the blood, the rage whispered in the back of his mind.
But this time he couldn’t lose himself to the fire.
This time he needed to be quick, clean and on his way to Esme.
The three adjusting their weapons rose up, and even as he realized that they held short range blasters, he’d already dispatched them with one slicing blow of his claws.
One at the far end of the room hit a button, began to yell into the microphone.
Gavin sprang forward, grabbing the man at the hip and the shoulder, throwing him into the far wall where he hit with a crunch and slid limply to the floor.
Seven left.
One managed to get off a badly aimed shot off from his blaster.
But it was over in seconds, the rest of the skirmish only punctuated by the yells of the guards as they charged, and the wet sounds of their dying.
The clash finished, he stood still, nostrils flared for the scent of anything but blood, ears tuned for the slightest motion that would betray an enemy.
But there was nothing.
Shifting back, Jormoi cocked his head to watch Gavin carefully.
“How long have you been doing that?” Gavin asked, distracted.
Jormoi looked startled, surprised that Gavin had noticed. “A few years. Before Carthak, I guess, but after we lost Merren you seemed…”
Huh.
Maybe it was true, that since they’d lost their brother, the fire had been more seductive.
Maybe, nothing.
“Thanks,” Gavin muttered, clearing his throat.
Jormoi looked just as uncomfortable, shifting his weight slightly. “Mission now, uncomfortable talking about emotions and crap later?”
“Void, yes.”
Down another hall and another stairway and now he no longer needed to trust the pull in his chest, now he could taste her in the air.
Her fear nearly sent him spiraling over the edge.
But he pulled himself back even as they tore another door from the hinges. He couldn’t risk losing himself in the fire, not again.
Not ever.
Finally, they came into a room filled with half-dead control panels.
Three bodies already stained the floor.
But no Esme.
“What the hell happened here?” Jormoi said.
Gavin didn’t know, didn’t care.
Because against the far wall he’d seen a flicker of motion.
Esme being dragged through a hatch in the floor.
Her wide eyes caught his for a moment, pleading.
Then she was gone, the click of an electronic lock activating sounding like a shot.
“No!” he howled, claws shredding at the thick metal plate.
Unlike the flimsy doors it resisted him.
He gritted his teeth, straining at the thick plate.
He’d get through it, but would he be in time?
30
She’d been so close.
But Brayden kept the point of the strange weapon pushed into her side as he dragged her down the stairs.
“This should look familiar to you,” he taunted her. “And now, you’re going to use it to help me.”
Something tickled in her memory, but she couldn’t concentrate enough to pull it back.
“Yes, maybe,” Esme stumbled over the words, all she could think about