I put my cell phone in my pocket and move. The trauma wing curves around toward the hangar, and I need eyes on the opening in the roof. I’m halfway down the corridor when Drift, one of Snare’s lieutenants, jogs up to me from the other direction with blood on his cheek that doesn’t appear to be his.
“South stairwell is clear, sir. I’ve got two on the door.”
“There was talk of a breach on the northern side.”
“I haven’t seen anything, sir.” He shakes his head.
“Where are the female staff?”
“Most of them are bunkered in the imaging wing on Level Minus Two. Dr. Keller and Ridge are with them. Dr. Jenkins is locked in with the injured Red. I have five of my males guarding each of the doors.”
“Good. I saw three nurses head that way.” I point in the direction. “Two of them were female. We need to keep them safe. Where is Dr. Keller’s PA, Carla Price?”
He narrows his eyes in thought. “I think she’s with Dr. Keller.”
“You think, or you know?” I lift my brows. Something inside me tightens.
“Um…I’m not sure, sir.”
“Find out. She was with Flint, last I saw. Get him on the radio.”
“He’s not answering, sir. I’ve tried three times.”
That tightening becomes something colder. It’s not like Flint not to answer. Something is up, and I don’t like it.
“Keep trying. Go round up the rest of the staff and get them to safety.”
“Yes, sir.”
Drift takes off running. I continue down the hallway, taking big strides.
A scream cuts through the air, pulling up my hackles. It’s long and high, the kind that scrapes you raw to listen to. It comes from somewhere ahead, in the direction of the diagnostic bay. I break into a run.
By the time I clear the corner, I’m too late for whatever the scream was. The corridor stretches empty ahead of me, the floor scuffed with claw marks. The wide opening at the end, where the roof should have been over the loading area, has been turned into a jagged hole the size of a truck. The dawn sky appears through it, with soft light filtering through.
I get to the opening just as a Red Dragon is ascending through it, wings tucked tight, something clutched in his front claw. I narrow my eyes, but its body moves in the way of what it’s holding.
I fucking hate what I think it might be, namely a human female.
It flies further away. One of our dragons attacks it, but it manages to evade the attack, flying fast. I move back into the hangar.
A low moan stops me in my tracks.
Behind me, off to one side of the corridor where the trauma carts had been parked, something is on the floor. I’d missed it in my haste to follow the scream.
My eyes widen when I see who it is and the state he is in.
“Fuck.”
Flint is on his back near the wall, one leg twisted under him. His shirt is shredded down the front, and there are four long gashes opened up across his ribs. Blood has pooled under him and is creeping across the tile toward my boots in a slow dark slick. His face is turned to the side. His mouth is open. There’s blood running out of one corner of it.
I drop to my knees beside him.
“Flint, look at me.”
He doesn’t.
I press two fingers to his throat. A thready pulse is there.
