Hewes had Ellie by both wrists, his fingers wrapped tight enough to leave bruises on her pale skin as he yanked her violently after him. She was fighting with everything she had, her body twisting and writhing in his grip, her feet scrabbling for purchase on the floor, but he was stronger. And surrounding them were four more Trogvyk, glamours dropped to reveal their true monstrous forms, weapons raised and trained on the doorway. On me.
This whole thing was a trap.
Thank the stars they used human firearms instead of blasters. Blaster fire would cut through my natural armor, cauterizing and destroying faster than I could regenerate. Human bullets I could handle.
But Ellie… Ellie was fragile. Human. Soft skin, delicate bones, and vital organs that couldn't take damage. One stray bullet punching through her flesh, and she'd be gone.
The Trogvyk swung their weapons toward me, and I moved. I was across the room before the first shot rang out, distance evaporating in a blur of motion as my claws extendedfully and tore through the nearest one's chest. He went down, gurgling, dark blood bubbling from his lips. I spun on my heel, momentum carrying me into the second attacker. I caught him by the head with both hands, feeling his skull compress under my grip, and twisted with a sharp, brutal jerk until I heard the wet snap of vertebrae separating.
Gunfire erupted around me in a cacophony of sharp cracks, and muzzle flashes lit up the room. I felt the impacts, sharp stings against my skin like angry insects, the bullets flattening against my hide, nothing more than irritants. While bullets could do no actual damage to my alien physiology, each one that missed me, each round that went wide or ricocheted off my skin, was a threat to Ellie.
I had to end this fast.
The third Trogvyk tried to back away, his boots scraping against the blood-slicked floor as he continued to fire wildly, the muzzle of his weapon flashing in rapid succession. I closed the distance in two powerful strides and drove my fist clean through his ribcage. I felt his heart give one final, stuttering beat before going still in my hand. The fourth Trogvyk turned to run, but I caught him by the back of the neck, my claws digging into the soft flesh there. I slammed him face-first into the wall with enough force that the plaster cracked and spider-webbed outward from the impact point. His body went limp instantly, sliding down the wall and leaving a dark smear of blood in its wake. He didn't get up.
Hewes was dragging Ellie toward a side door across the room, his arm locked around her throat, using her slight frame as a shield. His eyes met mine over her shoulder, and I saw the cold calculation. He knew I wouldn't risk her.
"Let her go," I snarled, my voice coming out deeper, rougher, barely recognizable as my own.
He smiled, cold and cruel. "I don't think so."
I took a step forward, my claws still dripping with the blood of his guards, and he pressed something cold and metallic against Ellie's temple. A gun. The barrel left a small circular impression on her pale skin.
"One more step and she dies." His voice was steady and confident. Too confident.
I froze, every muscle in my body locked in place despite the adrenaline screaming at me to move, to act, to tear him apart. Ellie's eyes were wide, terrified, her chest rising and falling with rapid, shallow breaths, but she wasn't crying. She was watching me with those bright green eyes, trusting me to save her. I would not let her down.
"You're not going to shoot her," I said, forcing my voice to stay calm even as rage boiled beneath the surface. "She's worth more to you alive."
"Maybe," Hewes said, his finger resting on the trigger with casual ease. "But dead works too. Either way, you lose."
His mistake was thinking I'd hesitate.
I moved, faster than his human reflexes could possibly track, my body a blur of motion as I pulled my father's blade from the sheath at my belt and flung it. The blade glinted in the light as it traveled end over end through the air, the tip finally embedding itself in his arm just above the wrist. Hewes howled in pain, his grip spasming open, and the gun clattered onto the carpet.
I grabbed Ellie, pulling her small body behind me as Hewes stumbled backward, his face contorted with shock and pain.
For a moment, our eyes locked. His wide with the sudden realization of his mortality, mine burning with desire to kill him. Then survival instinct kicked in, and he turned and ran, disappearing through the side door, screaming for his guards.
My father's blade was gone. Still embedded in Hewes' flesh. I would never see it again.
I should have felt the loss like a punch to the chest. Should have wanted to go after Hewes, pull the blade from his flesh, and use it to carve the life from him.
But when I looked at Ellie, alive and breathing, I felt nothing but relief. The blade had done its last duty. It had saved her. That was enough.
Some things were worth losing, and I knew deep down my father would be proud.
"We need to move," I said, turning to her, my hands already reaching for her shoulders to assess any injuries. "Now."
She nodded shakily, her face drained of color, but her jaw set with stubborn determination. I scooped her up without asking permission, one arm sliding under her knees while the other wrapped securely around her back, pulling her against my chest. She was lighter than I expected, or maybe the adrenaline coursing through my veins made everything feel weightless.
I ran.
The yacht devolved into chaos behind us. Shouts echoed off polished wood panels, more gunfire cracked through the air, and the acrid smell of smoke burned my nostrils. I didn't look back. My entire focus narrowed to a single objective. Getting Ellie out, getting her somewhere safe.
I burst through the yacht's main entrance into the chilled night air, Ellie clutched tight against my chest, her heart hammering against my ribs. The SUVs stood out front in a neat row, engines still running with a low, rumbling idle.
Then I saw the agents.
