We are so fucking close, but there’s still a hell of a climb to the top of the mountain. With Ezra being dead weight and the three of us worse for wear, I’m not sure how quickly we could make it. But if we did, we could shift and fight or fly out of here before they could stop us.
“Down,” Soren decides for us, face tight. “We don’t know what the ritual entails, but she isn’t in any condition for whatever it may be. And if they took over the mountain, you can bet your ass they got to the sanctuary already. It’s probably destroyed and they’ll be waiting there for us, assuming we’ll run there.”
I curse, resigned, but knowing he’s right. We strip the two guards of their guns and break into a run, pushing ourselves as hard as we can. Yri passes off Ezra to Soren for a while, but we barely slow, not wanting to waste any time. They could be two steps behind us, could find us at any minute. We can’t rest or we’ll be dead for sure.
Now all we can do is take our mate and run, and unless we can figure out a plan, we’ll never be able to stop.
Chapter 20
Ezra
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My body sways and myhead is screaming, but I don’t twitch a muscle. I learned quickly that I’m better off feigning being asleep until I can gather as much information as possible. The air doesn’t taste stale, so I must not be underground. I’m obviously being carried, so that’s a good sign; at least I’m not strapped down anymore.
The feeling of going upstairs before a door shuts and then I’m being set down on a soft bed. Despite the way my head is splitting in half, I’m not going to be able to wait any longer. I need to capitalize on my advantages before anything happens. They must have moved me to a separate location and I need to get the guys before they decide to kill them now that I gave them what they wanted.
My eyes fly open, but it’s dark and my vision hasn’t adjusted yet. I roll off the edge of the bed and land in a crouch, launching myself at the shadowed figure with a snarl.
Kill him, escape, find the guys, escape again. Four challenges; I’ve faced worse.
But I overestimated my determination. I feel so weak, can barely stand, and my head is swimming. I’m disoriented and dizzy, but I force my sluggish limbs to respond by threat of death. I have to manage this, or it will all be for nothing.
Stupid fucking cursed vagina. Why couldn’t I be born with a dick instead? But no, I have two targets painted on my chest that alter the entire course of my existence.
I swing a fist, knowing I can’t manage a good kick without losing my balance right now. I feel the contact, but know it lacks the usual force behind it. I hear cursing, stumbling across the room towards the door that won’t quit wavering in my vision.
The door opens of its own accord and instinct takes over. Bringing a flame to my hand, I bitchslap the figure before shoving past into a hallway.
“Son of a bitch; that fuckin’ hurt!” a familiar voice exclaims and I pause, narrowing my eyes and swaying.
“Yri?”
He doesn’t take a step closer, just holds one hand to his face and the other up with his fingers splayed to show he’s unarmed. “Yeah, angel, it’s me. You’re safe now, we’ve got you.” His voice is low and soothing, but I still don’t step closer to him.
I hold my palm out, bringing another flame to it nervously. When it appears, I nearly sob, so fucking relieved. No matter what they did to me this time, I have my abilities back. I’m not defenseless anymore.
