Maybe he really is bald…
A hysterical giggle bubbles up as we come to a stop next to an elevator bank.
One guard scans the access place. His colleague leers at me.
The elevator arrives with a ding.
“Don’t look at my woman,” Jord, aka Zeb, snarls.
We step inside.
“Your woman?” the guard squares up to Zeb.
Tension spikes.
The doors shut.
The other guard fingers the handle of an immobilizer rod, which I only now notice slotted at his hip. “Don’t fucking start, either of you. Jord, you know she’s not yours. Thisis what happened last time. It’s why your ass ended up in rehabilitation.”
The elevator hums.
The tension in the confined space skyrockets. Zeb’s eyes take a casual sweep over the elevator panel. He growls deep and low.
I jump.
The guards jump.
What the hell is Zeb doing?
“He’s fucking glitching,” one guard snarls, ripping his immobilizer rod free.
Zeb shoves me behind him. The rod slams into his shoulder. He grunts, swings. The first guard hits the elevator wall hard.
I yelp and duck.
The second guard swings. The rod connects with Zeb’s neck. He grabs the guard by the throat and slams him into the doors hard enough to leave a dent.
Another fizz of electricity sounds as the rod connects with the side of Zeb’s neck.
God, he’s hurting him!
Tsing’s training kicks in. I focus on the guard’s aura and pushcalm.
The rod drops, his head rolls to the side, and his expression turns dreamy right before Zeb slams his palm into his face. Blood sprays, and the man crumples to the floor.
“Whatever the fuck that was,” Zeb says, taking the guards hand and slapping his palm awkwardly against the plate controlling the elevator panel. “Do it again—for everyone but me—the moment the doors open.”
He shakes out his dead arm and hits the button markedCOMMAND DECK.
“Command deck?” I stammer. “Shouldn’t we be trying to find the prisoners and get off?”
He gives me a look, rolls out his neck, and straightens his shoulders. “There’s only one way we’re getting all our people off.”
“There is?”
He doesn’t answer. The double elevator doors open onto a command deck, and a dozen sets of eyes swing our way.
The walls of the elevator are painted in blood. A fair amount is on me, I realize in horror.
