“Can you destroy that?” I pointed at the card reader. “Without it, they may not be able to get to the rest of the weapons.” The door’s hinges were on the inside, so Vandekamp’s men couldn’t just remove them.
Gallagher gripped the scanner in both hands and wrenched it from the wall. Then he crushed it in both fists.
“Perfect. Okay, I’m going to pass these out to everyone who doesn’t have a natural defense. I need you to destroy all the other computers, starting with Vandekamp’s. He’ll have a backup of the collar software. He probably wrote it himself. And he might have a backup security system. His office is the last one on that left-hand hallway.”
Gallagher glanced down the hall, then turned back to me. “We’re not splitting up.”
“We don’t have time not to. Don’t worry, I’ll stick to the shadows. And I’m armed now.” I held up my activated baton for emphasis. “Meet me in the dormitory when you’re done here. Okay?”
He nodded reluctantly, then headed toward the other hallway.
“And Gallagher?”
“Yes?” He turned back to me.
“The computers are the boxes containing the hardware, not the screens.”
He gave me another gruff nod, then I took off out the back door.
Gallagher
The door at the end of the hall slammed shut as Gallagher turned the corner. But not before he saw Willem Vandekamp disappear into his office, his hand clutching the grip of a pistol. His eyes wide with fear—an emotion thus far unseen from the Spectacle’s owner.
Gallagher smiled, an expression no man in his right mind would have mistaken for joy. He inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of fear on the air as he let his hunger build.
He hadn’t been hunting in ages.
The redcap strode down the hall silently and kicked the door in with his bare foot. Ripped from its hinges, it flew into the room and smashed into the chairs lined up along the opposite wall. The splinter of wood was merely a taste of violence he planned to consume, but it was enough to whet his appetite.
The blood he spilled in the arena every week kept Gallagher alive, but that exploitative carnage didn’t fulfill his purpose.
It didn’t feed his soul.
“What the fuck?” The woman behind the desk stood, eyes wide, right hand clutching her phone. “Please. Don’t hurt me.”
“Run,” Gallagher growled, veins swollen with rage and adrenaline. Muscles aching to rend flesh from bone.
She raced past him into the hall, tripping over her high heels.
The inner office door slammed, and metal scraped wood as Vandekamp locked himself in. “The police are on the way,” he shouted from inside.
“Tell them to send the coroner instead.” Gallagher sucked in a deep, invigorating breath, then kicked the next door in. The force of the blow shattered not just the door, but the chair wedged in front of it.
He shoved the tangle of wood and upholstery aside and pushed his way into the office. Vandekamp stood behind his desk, aiming the pistol at the redcap’s chest. “I should have realized the first time I saw you. There was something about you. I thought it was your size, but it was more than that.”
“Humans should put more faith in their instinct. And less in weapons.” Gallagher took a step forward, and Vandekamp fired. The redcap dived to the ground and smacked the light switch on his way down. More wood splintered beneath him. The room descended into shadows.
The gun thundered again, and Vandekamp stood exposed in the muzzle flash.
Gallagher slid into the shadows as if he were made of them. He stepped over obstacles no human could have seen in the dark, and his feet made no sound.
Vandekamp fired again, scanning the room during the flash, wide-eyed. The redcap stood two feet away. Towering over him.
Gallagher ripped an arm from the darkness. The gun clattered to the floor. His victim screamed as blood arched into the air, splattering shadowy files and furniture. Painting the ceiling in artful splashes of dark red.
He fell upon the owner of the Savage Spectacle with a brutal enthusiasm that would have brought thunderous applause from the crowd, had it taken place in the arena. Hands flew across the room. Legs thunked onto the floor. Vandekamp’s spinal column was severed with a single vicious snap, breaking his head from his body like a cork from a bottle of champagne.
When the violence was over—when his bloodlust was sated—Gallagher knelt and dropped his cap into the fragrant red puddle.
