“Right?” Dylan said. His muscles relaxed, and his shoulders came down from his ears. “Meth, I’d get. But—”
Somerset gave him a shake.
“That doesn’t—” he broke off the question as he glanced over Dylan’s shoulder and grimaced. “Later. Move.”
Dylan glanced around as the Wolves reached the landing below,
“You first,” he pointed out, giving Somerset’s lean back another shove.
Somerset started to move and then stopped. “We don’t have time for this,” he said dourly.
“For wha—”
Dylan’s question broke off on a yelp as Somerset picked him up and tossed him over his shoulder. He grabbed at Somerset’s coat, fistfuls of soft wool bunched in his hands, and tried to squirm free. Somerset hooked his arm over the back of Dylan’s thighs to hold him in place.
“What the fuck?” he spluttered the objection indignantly. He braced his hands on Somerset’s back and shoved. “Put me down!”
Somerset ignored him and started up the stairs at a dead run. He moved like he wasn’t carrying anything, never mind a full-grown man. Dylan swore at him again and then had to hang on as the steps sped by underneath him. He managed to get a look down the stairs as Somerset rounded a landing, and they’d gotten back some of their lead on the Wolves.
The three men dropped down onto all fours as they tried to close the gap, fingernails cracked and broken on the concrete.
As they reached the top landing, Dylan tried to slide down again. Somerset slapped his thigh and growled at him impatiently as he shouldered the heavy door open. The cold bit at Dylan as they stepped out onto the roof. Snow eddied around them in dense, heavy flurries, nipping at his nose and throat as he breathed.
“Stay,” Somerset ordered as he unceremoniously slid Dylan off his shoulder and put him back on his feet.
Dylan staggered and then caught his breath. He raked his hair back out of his face and looked around. The roof was coated in snow and ice, and the rarely used helipad was almost entirely covered with a fresh fall of snow.
“Don’t—“
Before he could finish, Somerset turned around and slammed the door behind them. He leaned on it, legs braced, as he raised his hand to his mouth to chew on the wound he’d given himself a few seconds ago.
Something slammed into the door on the other side. It hit it hard enough to shift the bulk that Dylan hadn’t been able to move and opened the door a crack. Somerset grunted and put his shoulder to the door to close it again. He slapped his bloody hand against the crack, knuckles white as he gripped the frame tightly and muttered something under his breath.
Dylan felt…something…move through the snow. It was a vivid enough impression that he turned to scan the roof again to see if something was there.
“What was that?” he asked. “What did you do?”
He could hear the panic gnaw on the edges of his voice.
“I locked the door,” Somerset said blandly.
He stepped back and blotted his hand on his coat before he turned and walked away across the roof. Dylan stayed where he was and watched the door. Itwasn’tlocked. There was no way to lock this door.
So the fact it didn’t budge as the Wolves threw themselves against the other side over and over, the thump of flesh against wood loud and fast, was impressive.
“How did you do that?” Dylan asked.
“I just did.”
That wasn’t an answer. Dylan hunched down into his jacket and stared at the door, trying to make sense of it. He hadn’t managed it before Somerset cleared his throat behind him.
“The lock will hold,” Somerset said. “The door won’t. Come on.”
Right then, one of the Wolves hit the door hard enough that it cracked down the middle. It was a hair-thin crack, but Dylan jumped back anyhow. His feet slid on hidden ice, but he managed to catch himself before he hit the ground.
“What did Gull give you?” Somerset asked.
Dylan dragged his attention away from the cracked door and looked at the Somerset. There was snow caught in cropped blond curls and crusted on broad shoulders. The bitter chill didn’t seem to bother him.
