I scurried to his side, peering around him as the two guards who’d tried to stop the doctors from leaving leapt to their feet. A few candy wrappers littered the floor from where they’d been relaxing against the corridor walls.
“What the—?” The guards shared a worried look. “Why are you—?”
“We’re leaving.” Lucien smirked that savage little smirk I was so used to seeing just before he killed someone. “I suggest you get out of my way.”
“How are you even standing, let alone walking?” The guard with both arms tattooed yanked a pistol from the holster on his hip. “We were told you lost enough blood to keep you unconscious for days.”
“Yes, well...” Lucien stepped over the threshold. Whisper stalked to his side, revealing sharp teeth. “I suggest you stop asking pointless questions andmove.”
The second guard aimed his gun at the useless piece of metal in Lucien’s chest. “Look, sir. We have orders to keep you safe.”
“Good, then let me go.”
“Please return to the room or—”
“In the time it will take you to decide to shoot me—after going over the pros and cons of what will happen if you go against Marcus’s orders—your intestines will already be steaming on the floor.”
Whisper roared, looking positively peckish.
“See?” Lucien arched his chin at the panther. “He’s hungry.”
The two guards gulped and backed up. The taller, tatted one grabbed the radio fastened to his shirt pocket. “Tell that beast to get away from us or I’ll call for backup.”
“Again. In the time it takes for you to press that little button, your spinal cord will be torn out and used as a chew toy.”
The guard gulped.
He pressed the button—
Whisper crouched to pounce.
But the softestpop, pop, and the guard’s eyes suddenly rolled into the back of his head. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
The other guard leapt sideways, bashing into the wall and rattling a few decorative plates off their hooks, only to end up comatose beside his colleague.
“What a shame.” Lucien shrugged at Whisper. “Guess you won’t get a snack after all.”
“How...how did you do that?” I asked. “How did you knock them out without moving?”
True fear flared.
Was he getting worse?
Was his unnatural heat just the start?
“It wasn’t me.” He ruffled the panther’s scruff, his mood prickly and tight—just like it had been before he’d ordered me to kill him.
I didn’t like that. At all.
My head pounded as my vision greyed around the edges. “What do you mean, it wasn’t you?” My gaze shot down the corridor just as four black-clad assassins bled from the darkness.
“It was them,” Lucien murmured coldly.
“Mr. Ashfall?” The men didn’t lower their weapons. “Please state your thirteen-digit passcode.”
“1886-348-413-888.” Lucien pointed at Whisper. “The cat is not to be hurt.”
How was he so casual about all of this?
