Daemon Grudge

by Stacey Brutger

  Octavia leapt down from the table when the remaining doctor screamed at the guards. “Get her! Make sure you take her alive.”

  The three guards studied her, then Thomas stepped toward the doctor and calmly snapped his neck, dropping him like he was trash.

  She opened and closed her mouth as he came toward her, and she hastily leapt away, practically able to feel his hands around her own throat.

  He lifted up one hand in surrender, while the other dug around in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “You ready to get out of here?”

  “Fuck, yeah.” Tears pricked her eyes, and she couldn’t resist throwing her arms around him and hugging him tight. When she stopped shaking, she pulled away and stared up at his face. “How? Why?”

  “You were right.” His expression was grim, his eyes haunted. “I did some poking around after our last meeting. Unfortunately, the security measures were increased since you left, and I got caught. I suddenly found myself the next volunteer for their newly-minted serum.”

  It was her fault.

  He went to investigate because of her, and the shattered pieces of her heart crumbled to dust. “I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze. “I should’ve listened. If I had, none of this would’ve happened.” He reached down and grabbed her hand, tugging her away. “Come, we need to get going.”

  As they headed toward the door, Thomas nodded to one of his men. The soldier lifted his collar and spoke into his communication device. “It’s a go.”

  As they reached the door, a rattle of chains had her whirling. “You can’t leave me here.”

  She hesitated then grimaced…Travers.

  With a snarl, she grabbed the keys from Thomas’s hand and whirled. She bent and grabbed his collar, grunting when the metal bit into her flesh, and jerked him to his feet, getting right into his face. “Not laughing about the humans now, are you?”

  “I’m not sure they were ever human, not when they could do this to others.” His head was bowed, his voice deferential, his hatred of her muted—for now.

  Some of her anger eased, and she scowled at him, really wanting to stay pissed. “We’ll never be friends, but I need soldiers. We need to work together to get out of here before it’s too late. Think of betraying me and I’ll gut you myself. Understand?”

  “Yes, my goddess.”

  She recoiled, fumbling and nearly dropping the keys. “Excuse me?”

  He peered up at her with a meekness that made her skin crawl, and she snarled with the urge to smack him. “Stop that right now!”

  Some of his displeasure at her continual existence sparked in his eyes, and he lifted his chin. “What the doctor was describing—the golden liquid they took from you—is called ichor.”

  When she continued to stare at him blankly, he tsked and more of his jackass personality returned. “Ichor is the blood of the gods. Whoever—or whatever you are—you’re a baby goddess, one of the first to be returned to us since they vanished.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” Octavia snorted at the absurdity and rolled her eyes. He was bullshitting her, trying to get into her head, and she wasn’t falling for it. She unlocked his collar, then left him to follow them or not.

  As she passed the syringes, she paused, then swiped them, her instinct warning they might come in handy later. Thomas was waiting for her in the hallway, standing guard. As she turned down the corner, they fell into step around her.

  “We’re not leaving, are we?” he asked in a tired voice, but cast her a crooked grin that reminded her of old times.

  “I won’t leave without my men.” Her gut churned with acid. “I left you behind last time, and I never forgave myself. I refuse to do it again.”

  She couldn’t.

  It would destroy her.

  Thomas grumbled under his breath about impulsive, impossible women and stupid risks, but didn’t try to stop her. They were silent as they walked down the familiar hallways, and he grabbed her arm when they came to a stop in front of the surveillance room.

  “You should know…I wouldn’t have gone with you when you left. I trusted too blindly in Kronos. I believed the daemons were evil. I thought Kronos were our saviors. I didn’t realize until much too late that we were the monsters.”

  Her heart broke for him. His dreams of being the perfect soldier—fighting for those who couldn’t fight for themselves—were shattered. Now he was determined to make things right, even if it killed him. Maybe she could give him a new future if they survived.

  Thomas lifted a finger to his mouth, then pointed to the door.

  Octavia nodded and stepped back. Thomas and his soldiers entered the surveillance room. Muted sounds of a scuffle could be heard from the door, then everything fell quiet. Thomas strode out a moment later, a slight bruise to his face as he beckoned her forward.

  The guards manning the room were dead, piled up in the corner of the room like forgotten furniture. One of Thomas’s men pressed a few buttons and the screens flickered with images of the dissection room…and her men.

  Dear gods above.

  Her heart must have stopped beating for a full minute.

  Warrick was strapped to the table much like she had been only moments ago, while the rest of the men were huddled inside cages two sizes too small. She frantically scanned them for injuries. While bruised and battered, they were relatively whole.

  But not for long.

  Desperation sank its claws into her gut, and she clenched her hands, struggling to stay focused. The need to rage against the world and destroy anything that threatened her men spread like wildfire in her veins.

  Even as she watched, Darren stormed into the room with his two men at his heels. “He’s not here. We had a deal—the girl for Eldon.”

  One of the directors of Kronos strode into the room with a gaggle of guards, waving Darren off like a pesky bug. The man was built, obviously retired military, his gray-streaked black hair trimmed regulation short. He had no fear of the daemon, which she considered foolhardy to the extreme. “And I’m sick of waiting for my serum. We’re here because we have a common goal. We have what we need now. Just be happy that we’re including you.”

  Darren growled, storming toward the general. “And what’s to stop me from killing you all now? If I don’t get what I want, neither do you.”

  “Kill us and you have nothing.” Hatred gleamed in the old man’s eyes. “What will happen to you when your precious benefactors discover your betrayal? You need the serum just as much as we do.”

  Travers swore and glared at the monitors like he wanted to reach through them and rip the man apart with his bare hands.

  She fully agreed with the sentiment.

  “What’s your plan?” Thomas asked, watching her and not the monitors. Pleasure danced in his eyes, and he gave her a crooked smile. “If I remember correctly, you always have a plan.”

  “How many men do you have with you?” She smiled back at him, remembering the mischief they got into at the orphanage and military training camp.

  “Two dozen, but I believe more will follow when they discover we’re leaving.” He crossed his arms and spread his legs, waiting for her to explain.

  “You and a few of your men will escort us to the dissection room. The rest of you, start emptying the cages and set charges around the building. We’re going to do it right this time and make sure nothing remains standing.”

  “You’re my kind of girl.” The man who was playing with the computers grinned up at her with a wicked smile. Then he turned and gave a nod to Thomas. “I’ll stay and open the doors. While you rescue everyone, I should have enough time to hack into their system and destroy as much of their research as I can.”

  Thomas was quiet, grief darkening his eyes as he stared down at the grinning fool. “There is no coming back from that. You know that.”

  The man shrugged, his smile wilting as he turned away and began typing. “It needs to be done f
rom the inside. I won’t become like them. The instant I felt the shit they injected us with crawling inside me, I knew I’d never leave this place alive. I want to go out while I’m still me and doing some good.”

  Thomas gave him a nod, understanding and sadness darkening his face. He clasped the man’s shoulders, then turned toward the doors. “Barricade the doors behind us. It will buy you some time.”

  As soon as they were outside, Thomas began giving orders.

  Travers kept pace with her. “I’m going with you.”

  “Why?” Octavia demanded and crossed her arms. The man had been a giant pain in her ass since the moment she met him.

  “Darren needs to pay.” The cocky man she knew was gone, replaced by an elite daemon who was trained to kill. “I'll do my best to take down as many of the others as I can in the process.”

  “Very well.” She hesitated for a moment, then held out her hand to reveal the syringes she swiped. “I suspect whatever they used to create the metal to keep us incapacitated is in these. I’ll inject Darren’s two goons on my way to free the guys. It won’t drop them, but it should make them almost human and block their powers for an hour or so. You should be able to keep Darren and his men off me while I get Warrick and the others out.”

  He gingerly accepted one of the syringes, like he expected it to infect him by just touching it, then gave her a regal nod. “May the gods favor you.”

  Atticus struggled to contain his wolf, the cramped confines of the cage suffocating, even though he logically knew there was enough oxygen. His last benefactor loved the brutality of war and torturing those who didn’t obey his every command.

  And Atticus had a problem with obeying assholes.

  He spent years locked away, the solitude and coffin-like space having turned him into a raving beast with only one focus…to kill and feed. He’d barely managed to claw his way back to sanity last time. It has been less than twenty-four hours and already he could feel his mind splintering.

  One thing kept him sane—Octavia.

  Knowing she managed to escape was the only thing that soothed his savage beast. He was barely conscious of the door opening and people talking until he recognized one voice…Darren.

  His beast prowled to the surface, eager for battle. Droplets of blood splattered the bottom of the cage when his claws sliced through his fingertips. His fangs descended, nicking his lips, and he welcomed the pain. He edged forward, the Hephaestus metal snapping at him like a pesky gnat.

  He waited for blood to be shed and the dying to start, almost able to taste the violence hovering in the air. Anticipation had his wolf crouching, saliva pooling in his mouth.

  It was only when he heard Octavia’s name that sounds turned into words, then everything inside him stilled.

  “We had a deal—the girl for Eldon.”

  Fleshed burned, the charred scent making him aware that he was pressed up against the cage and growling. Warrick was strapped to the table, struggling to get free, a gag in his mouth muffling his words, but with his enhanced hearing, Atticus understood.

  “You’re looking for the stone.” His words were garbled from behind his fangs, nothing more than a growl, but Darren went still, having no problem understanding. “Get us out, and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

  Right after he slit the bastard’s throat.

  Rage burned through him, demanding justice.

  Demanding blood.

  The fuckhead even betrayed his own team, leaving three of his members to die.

  Calculation sharpened Darren’s gaze, then he shook his head. “I don’t need the help of a wolf.”

  A rusty laugh escaped him, and Atticus flashed a smile, his grin all fangs and teeth. “Actually, a wolf is exactly what you need to find something that’s missing. I’ve been trained by a master to never give up the hunt. Who better? You?”

  Darren scowled, and Atticus couldn’t contain his bark of laughter, the caustic sound echoing in the confined space. “You’ll never find the stone again. Not without our help.”

  Atticus tensed, his wolf hovering just below the surface. He didn’t even have to look at the others to know if he had a chance to get Octavia out of this alive, they wanted him to take it, even if it meant leaving them behind.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Thomas stood by the door to the dissection room, then glanced up in the corner and nodded to the waiting camera.

  The countdown has started.

  More than a dozen guards gathered around them, the guys grim but determined.

  Each of them had been recently turned.

  When Thomas grabbed Octavia’s arm and pulled her in front of him, he bent down and whispered in her ear. “Remember, do not react to what you see. Let us get into place first. We have twenty minutes before the building detonates. The lower levels are already being cleared. Simpson is opening the cages and doors and shutting off the alarms before they can sound.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She scrunched up her shoulder, nudging him aside. The plastic zip ties on her wrists dug into her damaged hands, the wounds there barely healed, the skin bruised and fragile, much like the rest of her felt. “I can hold my shit together, but we need to do this fast.”

  She couldn’t fuck this up.

  The guys were counting on her.

  The door buzzed, granting them access, and he grabbed the handle. He gave a nod, reassurance that they could do this, and opened the doors. The two syringes were cold against her back and dug reassuringly against her spine. She was unceremoniously shoved into the room, Travers stumbling next to her. He still looked a little worse for the wear, pulling off his part to perfection.

  “What the hell is going on here?” One of the doctors charged forward, full of bluster, but betrayed his agitation by wringing his hands. “She is to be delivered to Unit 7 and doctor Stein.”

  The room seemed to hold its breath at their entrance, everyone turning to gape at her. She kept her head down, their scrutiny feeling like a bad sunburn against her skin. The guards used the distraction to spread throughout the room.

  “You fucking bastard.” Instead of waiting for the signal, Travers broke his bindings and charged Darren.

  “Fuck!” Octavia snapped the plastic bindings and grabbed for the syringes even as the room erupted into chaos. She ducked low, focusing on the three daemons, the real threats in the room. She managed to inject the first one by slamming the needle into his thigh.

  Then Travers went sailing over her head, slamming into the wall with a brutal crunch. The syringe he held dropped to the floor, cracking on impact, the liquid spreading in an ever-widening circle, and her heart sank. He staggered like a drunken sailor when he tried to rise, and Darren grabbed for his shoulder.

  Not holding back, she used her enhanced strength to launch herself across the room. She plowed into them, jabbing the syringe into Darren’s chest even as they fell. They barreled into the cages, and he bellowed in pain when his back came into contact with the enhanced metal.

  Taking advantage of the distraction, she rolled away, coming up into a crouch in front of Atticus. Blood-red eyes bored into hers and his snarl fell away. Without hesitation, she grabbed every ounce of power and slammed her fist against the cage.

  It felt like she stuck her hand in a garbage disposal.

  Ignoring the pain, she grabbed the bars and hauled back with all her might. Metal groaned under the strain, then she found herself falling backwards when the fastenings snapped. Even before she had a chance to hit the ground, Atticus lunged forward and hugged her to his chest. She found herself looking up into his savage face as he easily held both of them up by one arm.

  As war raged around them, he slammed his mouth down over hers in a brutal kiss, only to pull away a second later. “Free the others. I’ll keep you safe.”

  Without giving her a chance to reply, he spun them, and she found herself on all fours in front of Nikos’s cage, Atticus’s roar echoed in her ears as he charged into battle. Bracing herself,
she reached forward with both hands, the burns on her fingers and palms screaming in protest.

  Even as her flesh sizzled, she ignored the pain and reached into her soul for every scrap of energy she had left. Fire seared up her arms like she was being electrocuted. She gritted her teeth against the need to whimper, feeling the metal bend in her hands before finally breaking free.

  She landed hard on her ass, her lungs struggling to remember how to function. Nikos was crouched in front of her, his hands gentle as he cupped her face. “We need to get you out of here.”

  She shook her head and pulled away from his comforting touch, her bones feeling like they had the consistency of warm wax. “We leave no one behind. Get Warrick. The table is normal steel. Tear it apart. I’ll get Keegan.”

  He looked ready to argue, and she glared at him. “I’ll be fine. We need him to fight our way out of here.”

  She gave him the answer she thought he would accept, but the truth was she needed all of them to survive. If they died because of her, she would never forgive herself.

  He grunted and scowled, clearly not pleased, before he spun away and joined the fray. Atticus and Nikos and a few of the soldiers were doing their best to keep the fighting away from her. Not wanting to draw attention to herself, she stayed low to the ground, crawling toward the last cage—or more like dragged herself along the floor—unwilling to admit that she probably wouldn’t be able to climb to her feet without falling on her ass again.

  Keegan’s silver eyes were hard as she stopped in front of him. He was furious she’d come after them, and she gave him a crooked smile. “Had to get yourself captured, huh?”

  “And you just walked in through the fucking front doors?” His brows lowered with his ire, his rage beating at her like a spray of bullets.

  Her smile fell away, and she peered down at her ravaged hands, suddenly exhausted. She picked at her palm, wincing to see her skin was nearly completely peeled off to reveal raw flesh and bone beneath. “No, I trusted the wrong man. It was to be me in exchange for you guys. It didn’t quite work out that way.”