Trapped (The Condemned Series #1) - Alison Aimes Page 0,6

up, simply strode through the wreckage, tossing pieces left and right, stepping over the dead without even a hesitation.

Taking the hint, she moved faster as well, the increased distance from their unwelcome visitor giving her a bit more confidence. The shrieks seemed to have ended her colleague’s resistance, too. Davies wobbled backwards, almost dragging Bella, the wind battering them as debris from the growing storm dug into their flesh.

Bella’s gaze flickered to Winthrop now covered in a fine film of dirt. Despite the ominous wind, he remained unmoving on the ground, the erratic rise and fall of his chest the only proof he still lived.

A sense of helpless fury shot through her. He was going to die—horribly, by the sound of whatever was heading their way—and she couldn’t think of how to save him. She was barely certain she and Davies were going to come out of this alive.

“We have no choice.” Davies’ gaze was also locked on their boss.

“I know.”

They were almost to the rocks when mud man gave a grunt, yanked something from the wreckage, and tucked it into a pack slung across his back. He swiveled back around, his gaze landing unerringly on them.

Bella’s breath caught. Her legs turning to water.

He jogged toward them while she pulled Davies along. Her colleague chanted oh no, oh no, oh no, and Bella’s heart pounded against her ribs and she wanted to scream to the sky with outrage and—

He passed by them so close she felt the heat of his big body brush against her shoulder. Then she was looking at his back as muscles rippled and he heaved himself up the rock face like some kind of flipping mountain goat, leaving them behind sucking in dirt.

“Wait!” The word popped out before she fully thought it through.

“Bella, no,” hissed Davies.

But it was too late. As if Bella’s words were law, mud man froze on the ledge above.

She took a deep breath. “Help us. Please.”

He didn’t move.

“We won’t make it otherwise.” The truth tasted bitter in the back of her throat.

“Bella, don’t—”

“Please.” Bella pleaded, ignoring Davies. She thought of her sister and brother. Of how quickly they’d be removed from Council protection if she didn’t make it back to Earth. “I’ll…I’ll do whatever you want if you’ll only help us.”

He landed in a crouch at her boots.

Every frantic heartbeat felt like a hundred years as he unfolded to standing, at least a full head and a half taller, his breath a warm puff against her forehead. So close she could see the bump where his nose had been broken. So close she could see long, thick lashes and the rim of deep, dark blue that gave his eyes their inky black color. So close she could see the sharp blades of jaw and cheekbones that produced his fearsome scowl.

She took a protective step back.

Rough hands encircled her forearms, checking her in place. “Anything?” His voice was a low, rusty rumble.

Bella dug deep for courage, her gaze locking with bottomless black. “Anything.”

Chapter Three

Bella helped Davies slide down the rock wall and then dropped to the ground herself, her breathing a near wheeze. Their near-sprint up the rocky cliff trail while battered by howling dry winds had drawn on her last reserves. But even her loud panting and the whirling dust storm wasn’t enough to drown out the shrieks far below.

A shudder ran through her. Whoever was down there had made it to the wreckage. Next to her, Davies slammed her hands over her ears, her body rocking to and fro.

Bella barely resisted doing the same. The frenzied screeching and cracking of the shuttle being torn to bits was terrifying to hear. Even knowing she and her colleagues were deep in the hidden cave and the storm would cover their tracks didn’t help. She could only pray the shuttle explosion had brought a quick death to the crew she hadn’t been able to save.

Not even breathing hard, mud man laid a still unconscious Winthrop by her feet.

Their gazes locked.

“Thank you.” She meant it, too. Without him, they’d never have made it this far. He’d found a metal bar among the wreckage and twisted it so Davies could use it as a cane. He slung Winthrop over his shoulder more gently than she would have expected and scrambled up the cliffs with ease, his astonishing array of muscles shifting and flexing as he moved.

“Come.” He held out a calloused palm.

She swallowed hard, her stare raking from his scowling face to his wide chest and