This almost feels like a reenactment of the other day…only this time I might not get so lucky.
It’s a security guard. From his smaller stature, I think he’s from the Mainland, which is good for me, since he won’t have enhanced senses. He’s holding an automatic rifle, the barrel sweeping the destroyed clinic as he advances.
I press myself to the floor, making myself as small as possible. My breath comes in short, shallow gasps that I try desperately to keep quiet.
Please don’t see me.
“I know you’re in here,” the guard calls out, his voice echoing through the ruined space. He sounds calm. Like he does this every day. “There’s no point hiding. This building is surrounded. There’s no way out.”
He takes a step forward. Then another.
“You might as well give yourself up now,” he continues. “Make this easy on yourself. No one else needs to get hurt today.”
Every instinct screams at me to run, but there’s nowhere to go. He’s between me and the only exit. And even if I could get past him, there are more security forces outside.
I’m trapped.
Grim has his hands full with two dragon shifters he is reluctant to hurt, never mind kill.
The guard moves deeper into the clinic, his boots crunching on debris. He’s checking behind overturned furniture. Working his way methodically through the space.
It’s only a matter of time before he checks under what’s left of the reception desk.
Overhead, the dragon battle intensifies. Something slams into the roof, making the entire building shudder. Dust and small bits of debris rain down.
The guard doesn’t even flinch. He just keeps searching.
“Grim,” I reach out desperately through the bond. “Grim, I’m in trouble.”
I feel a surge of rage and protective fury. I also feel his frustration.
He can’t get to me. Not yet.
I need to do something. I need to think.
The guard is getting closer. He’s just a few feet away from my hiding spot. He’s going to find me, and then I’m done for.
42
Wren
I want to cover my eyes. I want this all to go away. I want to pretend everything is fine when it clearly isn’t. Any second now, this Security Forces guy is going to find me and kill me.
My heart is hammering so hard I’m certain he can hear it. Each breath feels too loud, too ragged. I press my palm flat against my mouth, trying to muffle the sound.
“I know you’re here,” he says again. “You may as well come out because I’m going to find you.”
My throat constricts. Cold sweat breaks out along my spine.
He starts to round the crumpled desk. When he gets to the other side, he’s going to check under it, and he’ll find me. Then I’m dead. Just like the anti-vaxxers. They’ll shoot me like they did Sally.
My fingers brush against something on the floor. A small piece of broken plaster, jagged and rough under my fingertips.
I stretch my arm out as far as I can reach, my shoulder screaming in protest. I grab the plaster chunk, my hand closing around it.
I take in a breath, trying to settle my nerves. My pulse is racing. Then I throw the stone, aiming toward the door that leads to the treatment rooms.
It clatters against the wall about a foot from the doorway, the sound sharp and distinct in the destroyed clinic.
