Page 82 of Bad Blood Alpha

“Yeah. Guards everywhere.”

“Ah, hell. She’s fighting him, but she can’t hold out much longer. We’re going to have to break her out.”

Sloan said, “We have some backup coming. From the other side.”

That meant Caitlyn had made it out. Flynn was trying not to hear Kira, because knowing she was hurting made him too crazy to plan. But her screams knifed through him. “That would be fucking awesome, but we can’t wait.” He took a deep breath. “We go with what we’ve got. It’s time to take this sorcerer down.”

“Hell fucking yeah.”

Kira strained against the restraints, fighting Ragnor with everything in her, everything Flynn had given her. She couldn’t hear Flynn, and she was afraid to call out for him in her mind.

Afraid Ragnor would know.

But his strength was there for her, their bond sustaining her.

The pressure against her relaxed, and she could see the fury on Ragnor’s face. “You think you can hold out?” he hissed. “I’ll break you down. The harder you fight, the more I’ll make you suffer.”

And the more he was suffering. She could see the sweat and pain on his face.

“Give it your best shot, you evil murdering fucker.”

“Your lion is dead.”

“No, he’s not. You couldn’t even do that right.”

He stared at her, comprehension dawning. “You did bond with him. You started the process. You’re drawing on the power of the bond…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “He’s just my guardian.”

“You’re a liar. He’s the only reason you’ve resisted as long as you have. With him gone, that bond will be broken.”

Ragnor started laughing. “You are a fool. You’ve just signed his death warrant.”

He dropped her hand, stepping back.

Behind him, the great carved doors exploded inward with a huge “boom.” The hellhounds guarding the door went flying, rubble raining down on them. Papers littered the air; furniture and equipment rocked and fell. Ragnor was knocked to the ground.

Flynn strode through the smoke and dust, his black dreads matted and wild, an assault rifled cradled in his bloody hands.

Kira drew on the power Ragnor had woken inside her, wild and crackling and trying to get loose. The leather restraints began to burn away.

Ragnor lunged at her from the floor and she kicked him away, tearing herself loose from the chair.

Flynn was shooting at the remaining hellhounds, ripping their limbs apart in a hail of bullets. Kira focused on Ragnor. All the rage she’d kept bottled up for years rose up in her—the death of her clan, the torture of her family.

She used all the powers she had—martial arts and magic. He was quick, lashing at her with dark fire, trying to capture her with his slithery ropes.

But she had the bracelet, and she had her skills, and she had Flynn. Alive and free.

She was a match for anyone.

She attacked Ragnor with a flurry of punches and kicks, following up with a blast of magic. He blocked her, but a bit of her magic got through his guard, sizzling his skin.

He tossed one of his evil lassos and she ducked, snatching one of Flynn’s knives from the pile of weapons. When he threw another rope, she slashed at it with knife and magic, severing it. He howled.

Flynn was fighting his way to her, but three more hellhounds were bounding into the room. They had to get Ragnor. Without his direction, the hellhounds might not fight.

She moved in on the sorcerer, dodging and feinting, maneuvering him into a corner. Finally, she left him an opening.