Sloan took out the second guard.
The gunshots rang through the compound, echoing against the mountain next to the base.
Max forced his kill-reaction deep down in a box and used the adrenaline thrumming through his blood to grab onto the petrified Barry. He launched in the direction of the chain-link fence. Getting out with the man was his top priority.
He thought Sloan was right behind him, thought she was safe, but when a female screamed, his steps faltered. He turned back, heart leaping into his throat. Locked in hand-to-hand combat, Sloan clashed with her sister. In the poorly lit courtyard of dirt, he caught glimpses of white hair flashing along with the glint of metal. Knife.
Scanning the ground, Max zoned in on Sloan’s firearm, close to where she fought. Oddly, she wasn’t going for her crossbow only feet from her, and she wasn’t using her power. He lifted his rifle, aimed, but couldn’t get a clear shot. First things first. Turning to Barry, he pulled back the torn chain-link, allowing a gap for him to fit through.
“Go,” he burst out and pointed. “Keep running due west. There are two more waiting for you, half a click that way.”
Barry crouched and ducked through, then took off full pelt. The older man wasn’t as fast as he should be. He needed a head start.
Steeling himself, Max raised his rifle and advanced on the women in battle, holding his aim, looking for an opening.
“Don’t shoot!” Sloan shouted as she ducked, swung and kicked her sister’s legs out.
Despair adjusted her footing, recovered, and stabbed at Sloan, sewing machine style. Panic gripped his heart. Sloan’s stab-proof jacket took the force, stopping the knife from piercing deep, but the peppered holes in her guard’s uniform proved how close she’d come.
This was the first time Max had seen Sloan’s sister in action. Equally matched, the two were the same height. Despair was thinner, Sloan curvier. Where empathy and longing poured from Sloan’s determined gaze, Despair’s held only cold hard calculation. The macabre dance became a symphony of violence as battle sounds grew. Bursts of breath, strikes, sharp feminine shouts, elbows crunching against bone. Max’s breath caught. Fuck this. He steadied his aim and stepped forward, ready to decimate Sloan’s attacker.
“Don’t shoot!” Sloan gasped again, dodging the blade slashing across her hand, drawing blood.
“Use your gift,” he demanded. “I’m not risking you, Sloan. Use it now.”
Emotion flared in Sloan’s eyes. She didn’t want to hurt her sister, but she had to do something. In a maneuver Max never saw coming, Sloan used her body to circle around her sister, put her in a chokehold and drop to the ground, wrestling style. Despair’s violet eyes flashed with fury, her face went red, her knife fell as she tried to release herself, and then she slumped, unconscious.
Easing her down, and heaving great lungfuls of air, Sloan’s manic eyes met Max’s. “My power didn’t work on her.”
He only let the panic engulf him for a moment before the alarm sounded. A great, whooping wail that almost shattered their eardrums.
“Let’s go.” He waved her forward.
She hesitated. “Should we take her?”
“No time.”
Sloan retrieved her crossbow and quiver, and then together they dashed back to the hole in the fence, scampering through only seconds before guards shouted over the din of the siren. They ran until they hit their rendezvous point.
Under the cover of darkness, they retrieved their rucksacks from Parker’s open arms and slung them on. Sloan ripped off the guard’s outer shirt, leaving her Deadly Seven jacket free, and she synced her weapon to her back. The bow stuck there like it was glued. The hip-quiver, she attached to her pants.
Still looking green, Tony moved into the darkness, back the way they’d hiked. When the sound of a lone animal howling cut through the night, all five of them froze.
“What the fuck was that?” Tony murmured.
“The beasts,” Barry gasped. “They’re coming.”
Max turned back toward the black site. “They won’t get through the fence.”
“They’ll get through anything, even the small hole we went through. They’ll climb if they have to,” Barry said.
“How did they get up the elevator?” Parker asked.
“Daisy,” Sloan swore. “Must have been her.”
“You put her out,” Max pointed out.
“We don’t stay down for long,” Parker replied and then stepped toward Barry. “Tell me what I need to know about these animals.”
“Um. Oh God. Um. Okay. They’re like you. They sense sin. Except, we have dulled their sense of self preservation.”
“Which sin?” Sloan asked.
“All of them.”
“Fuck!” Tony snapped.
“It’s fine. It’s fine. We can manage this.” Sloan’s gaze locked on the area they’d come, listening for warning signs the beasts were getting close.
Barry whimpered and, hell, seeing a grown man cry like that, petrified, was enough to unsettle any soldier.
“My daughter,” Barry said. “I can’t leave her. I’ll go back.”
Parker caught him by the shoulder, halting him. “You’ll do no such thing.”
“I have to save her! They’ll kill her. Worse. They’ll turn her into one of them.”
“They still don’t know we took you. We have time.” Taking charge, Parker shoved Barry toward Tony, who took hold of him lest he run. “This is the plan: Sloan, Max—you head over the mountain toward Barry’s daughter. You draw the beasts to you, buy us time to get Barry out. We’ll take Barry back the way we came. Do whatever you can, Sloan. Use your gift to amplify sin. Lure the animals, then execute them. You think you can handle that?”
His snarky tone was not lost on Max and it ground on his patience.
Sloan scowled, but released her crossbow from her back, nocked a bolt and nodded. “Yeah, I got it.”
“Once you’re safe, continue on to find Barry’s daughter. I’ll have a car and supplies waiting for you when you arrive over the mountain. Check in when you get in range. We have to double back, and I dare say, you’ll arrive before reinforcements—if we can get any. Go.”
Without waiting another minute, Max and Sloan took off, racing through the darkness, circling back around the base and heading up into the mountain. The distant wail of an animal on the hunt followed them. He did his best to think sinful thoughts, wrath, envy, greed, whatever he could conjure.
“I have no fucking idea if I’m doing this sin thing right,” he huffed as they dodged some trees, already half a mile up the mountain.
The only way to Barry’s daughter was over and then hiking through the wilderness on the other side. His lungs were burning. His limbs were heavy and turning to jelly.
“Just keep watch,” Sloan huffed. “I’ll take care of the sin.”
“Got it.” He opened his hearing and strained for the sound of pursuit as he jogged, rucksack bouncing on his back.
Max pushed his body to the limit.
And then he heard it.
The panting, thudding, crashing of a creature, hot on their tails.
“I hear them,” he barked. “On our six.”
“Don’t shoot yet. Get further.”
Shit.
They jogged up hill until a few minutes in, more animals crashed—pounding paws, wet snarls and intake of breath—possibly the entire caged population.
A ghostly howl followed the answering whooping screech of a monkey.
He jumped over a fallen log and almost tripped in the dark. The smell of pine wafted as their boots broke needles underfoot. The stars and moon only cast light on so much, but his adrenaline-fueled body and mind gave him what he needed. Readying his rifle, he mentally cataloged escape routes. Bush everywhere. Plants. Trees. Cliff.
Kill-zone.
“Cliff,” he gasped. “We get stuck here, we’re done.”
Too late. They hit the rocky wall, turned their backs and aimed into the dark
ness. His heart pumped loudly in his ears and he tried to calm his steady breath. He strained his hearing to gauge impact.
“You ready?” Sloan breathed, aiming her bow.
He answered by lifting his rifle.
Impact.
Demon beasts breeched the darkness between the trees. At first, Max thought they got lucky and only a few animals approached, but the sounds of paws thundering through the bush kept coming. Yellow eyes glinted in the darkness. More were there… hunting them. He counted four more sets of eyes. The few that breached didn’t stop. They didn’t circle. They pounced.
Holding her bow but not shooting, Sloan gave a war cry. The three animals already mid air writhed and dropped in clear agony. Max fired at them. Sloan must have used her power, but it wasn’t enough. With stubborn determination, the fallen animals struggled to re-correct.
Then Max’s blood turned to ice. More animals arrived. One, two, four… he lost count.
Sloan released the string on her bow, bolt flying into the new beasts. She re-nocked, bolted, and sighted, firing again.
Max adjusted his aim. Fired. Shot after shot, they defended, but like the animal they’d faced in the city, these kept coming. Unfazed by flying projectiles, they were relentless. Soon, Max had run out of bullets and Sloan had depleted her quiver. All beasts were down but struggling to rise. He threw the rifle down, stripped his knife from his ankle holster and entered an attack stance.
“Put them to sleep instead,” he barked.
“What do you think I’ve been trying to do? I can’t focus. I’m too wired. Unpacking the boxes isn’t working.”
Out of nowhere, another black heavy shadow landed heavily on him. Max fell back, barely holding the beast’s snapping fangs from his face. Something warm and wet rushed down his hand. Blood. From the animal’s bowels. He’d stabbed it. The beast kept fighting. Teeth gnashing, claws scratching, all of it continued until, weakened by blood loss, it fell on top of him.
When he pushed it off, he found Sloan locked in battle with another. How many were there? More sounds crashing through the trees. Jesus Christ. More were coming! Hopelessness choked him. However did Parker think they’d be able to handle this many monsters?
He shoved his knife into the animal atop Sloan. Released. Black blood spurted. He turned for the next. “Come on!” he shouted. “Come get me!”
Soon, the clearing held a new shape. Pile after pile of black bodies mounted around them. The stench of fresh carcass swamped him until his body was covered in gore. Instinct rode his actions until Sloan’s voice pierced his battle haze. Dispatching the final beast, he found her at the rocky cliff.
“Climb.” Sloan panted and pointed up. “There’s a ledge up there.”
Following her gaze, he noticed the flat space she indicated about thirty feet away. Too hard to tell if the ledge would fit them both, but it might. More beasts were coming. Good enough. Height gave them an advantage.
Sloan heaved in a breath, locked her fingers together and created a step for him.
“No,” he said. “You first, Sloan. I’ll boost you.”
“Don’t be a dick. I can leap higher. I’m stronger.”
He bit back his pride—too late. A terrible howl came from somewhere nearby as it sensed his pride and he knew they weren’t done.
“Hurry, Max!”
Damn it. She was right. He’d seen her strength first hand; his nose was still sore.
“Fine.” He released his rucksack from his shoulders and swung it up with an almighty swing. The pack sailed through the air, and just landed on the ledge with a thump. He placed one boot into her hands.
“One. Two. Three.” Sloan heaved. He launched, hands latching onto rocky protrusions. The top was still six feet away. Using the last of his reserves, he hauled his body heavenward, fingers scraping painfully, boots scrambling for purchase. But he made it. He climbed and breeched the ledge, rolled onto it, panting and heaving with breath.
Swiftly turning, he rolled to his stomach and reached down.
Sloan leaped toward him and landed a good three feet away, clutching outcrops with white-knuckled hands.
He froze, holding his breath.
A tsunami of animals breeched the forest and flowed into the clearing beneath her. Like a crashing wave, they hit the cliff wall, and soared upward, coming for Sloan.
“Hurry!” he bellowed.
She was too far for him to reach. Snarls, rips, snaps as the animals clawed up the rocky wall, caught her legs and tried to pull her down. Her face tilted toward him, eyes flashing desperately under the stars.
“I can’t—” she burst. “Too many of them.”
He had no rifle, only his knife. No, that was wrong. He had his Glock in his rucksack.
“Hold on, Sloan.” He raced to his pack, ripped it open. Relief had never felt so sweet as his fingers locked around the cold grip.
Her scream curdled the air. He slid back to the ledge, arm dangling down. More relief as he registered she hadn’t fallen, but in the torrid swarm of black beneath her, one animal had locked jaws around her ankle and tugged. Terrified, she’d slid down a few feet, enough distance to let other animals jump on her, latching onto her pack. They weighed her down. She wouldn’t last.
Max fired.
One beast fell off. Not enough.
“Get rid of the pack, Sloan!” he shouted.
Her panic-stricken face turned up to him, her body jostling as it was tugged from behind. Her grip slipped. Then Max felt a wave of calm, of warm love, of horrifying concession.
It came from her… why?
“I’m so sorry, Max,” she said, face twisted in sorrow. “Find Barry’s daughter.”
Then she let go of one hand, put two fingers to her lips and held them toward him. In slow motion, it came to him… This was their on-screen goodbye kiss.
She’d given up.
Sixteen
Max’s anguished face was the last thing Sloan saw as she released the rocky wall and let the animals tear her down. Jaws locked onto her rucksack, ripping and snarling. She shut her eyes and let the free fall enshroud her. The snapshot of his face stayed with her. At least this way, he’d be released from the pressure of the mating bond. At least this way, he could go forward and save Barry’s daughter.
With a bone-jarring thud, she landed on her back. The wind knocked out of her, but the pack broke her fall.
“NO!” A roar of male fury thundered through the night as animals converged on her.
She lifted her arms, blocking her face with only one thought: Max.
One word. One name. One pain.
Her mind stuck on the echo of his roar, of his denial. He didn’t want her gone, any more than she wanted to leave. Max wanted her to stay. She had to fight. Keep fighting, Sloan. The thought sent a surge of defiance through her. She kicked, twisted, reached for her ankle knife, missed. It wasn’t enough. She tried to throw boxes of emotion at the animals, pain, sleep, sorrow—anything. But her mind was a mess, in shattered pieces. She could only focus on the sensations in her body, and right now, they were in chaos.
Shot after shot cracked loudly as Max tried to execute her attackers. Whelps, whines and hard breaths exploded as the monstrous beasts bit, clawed, and scratched. Pain knifed her limbs, stabbed her legs, flashed at her face, and cut into her heart.
She wasn’t sure how long her stab-proof battle gear would hold. There was too much pain over her lower limbs to believe it had protected her.
Through the chaos, she heard Max shout, “I’m coming down.”
“No!”
Panic speared through her. Max. If he came down, he’d die. She wouldn’t let him die. No chance in hell. With all the resolve she could muster, she soaked up the blinding pain emanating through her body and relished it. She got to know it, studied it, and became one with it. Once she was sure the pain and she were friends, she fashioned the sensation into a psionic blade, adding the memory of herself bleeding from the palm. She hurtled her agony outward, am
plifying it tenfold. Pain burst from her in a silent sonic boom. A gust of wind brushed outward, lifting sand and dust in its wake. Monsters screamed, screeched, and whimpered. They keeled from her body, rolling back as though punched—as though stabbed through the heart with a knife.
She didn’t wait to see if they recovered.
Releasing herself from the shackles of her rucksack, she forced her heavy limbs to move. Every time she felt a stab of pain, she used it. She hurtled it outward, spearing anything within her radius. She moved.
“I’m coming,” she rasped, jumping up to grasp a protrusion on the rocky wall. “Go back up.”
“Sloan!” Max, already half down the wall, changed his trajectory. He scrambled back up, but then turned and shouted. “Wait. We should kill them while they’re out.”
Dammit. He was right.
“Stay there!” she ordered.
For a heart-wrenching moment, she couldn’t move. Her limbs locked. Panic knocked on a door to her brain.
“You can do this, Sloan. I know you can.”
She nodded, breathed deep and believed her mate. She could. She would.
Pushing down her fear, she let go. She dropped and landed on her feet then, using her knife, she systematically put each beastly nightmare out of its misery. One. Two. Three… she lost count and her heart ached with each kill. Some were just little bodies when sleeping. Some were enormous. All were monsters. Damn the Syndicate. Damn them to hell!
By the time she was done, her energy began to wane, but she pulled every bolt out of the dead animals and returned the quiver to her thigh. She synced her crossbow to her back and then threw her rucksack to Max, and then she climbed. Up the wall. Up to safety.
Sloth: A Fated Mate Superhero Romance (The Deadly Seven Book 4) Page 14
