Before I can reply, the door bursts open again. It’s my masked friend.
“We gotta go, stat. Got word there was a van outside the compound,” he tells the girl. “Not government. Turned around and headed this way. I shouldn’t need to tell you that we were never here.”
My heart stops. I know it’s Kila.
“Whatever,” the girl is saying, contempt pouring off of her.
Then the man reaches for me and I twist away. My arms are free now, and I hop backwards on my shaky bound legs. He stalks toward me, furious. The girl doesn’t lift a finger to help him, and instead takes the paper plate out of the room like she can’t be bothered with either of us.
“I don’t have time for this,” he says. “And I’ll make you pay for it later.”
I slide my hand behind my back and grab for the hair-spray bottle that’s been wedged in my ass cheeks all night. As he lunges for me, I shoot out my arm and spray wildly in the direction of his face. He lets out a shout of surprise and anger, but I don’t wait for a moment. I elbow him in the balls and hop like my life depends on it. I hop into the hallway. Once glance to the right and I can see the woman’s back heading towards a living room area. She looks over her shoulder at me, then looks away. I hop in the opposite direction, where a door awaits me just down the hall.
It’s my only opportunity. I’m slow-moving in this state, and it won’t take long for my masked torturer to get up. And he’ll be pissed. I grab for the door, and sure enough, as I’m slamming it shut I can see him in the door-frame of the room where I was being held.
I lock the door. My eyes start searching the room frantically. It’s a laundry room. My first instinct is to grab the nearest piece of furniture and shove it up against the door. It turns out to be a table topped with unfolded clothes, which slide onto the floor when I throw my body weight behind the act of bolstering the door.
Just in time, the knob jiggles and I hear my captor shouting at me from the other side. He pounds on the door so hard that it shakes.
As I scan the place, my eye catches on a glint of metal— scissors. Yes.
I grab them from a cup of scrubbers and screwdrivers and triumphantly hack at the zip-ties that are binding my legs together. Behind me, the door shakes so hard that I hear a heart-stopping cracking sound. He’s about to break the thing down. But I have legs now. Legs and weapons. I shove the screwdrivers in my pockets and keep the scissors clutched in hand. There’s a small, high window in here and the sight of it makes me want to scream with joy.
I hop on top of the dryer unit and kneel on it, eliciting a metallic moan from the machine. I get to work popping up the sash lock and throwing it open, but when I check over my shoulder, I see that the door has been busted off the hinges. My masked buddy is trying to cram himself through the opening, pushing the table as he goes. I rip the screen of the window with my scissors and throw myself through, not bothering to carefully pop out the screen altogether.
It seems I’ve been in a split-level house, so I am belly crawling through a bed of mulch as soon as I am halfway through the window. My ears perk at the sound of a tires on gravel, and the hum of an engine approaching.
“Where are you going, bitch?” the angry voice from inside sends a shot of adrenaline pulsing through my system. He grabs my feet and tries to haul me back inside. I claw at the grass for purchase and stab my scissors into the earth to hold onto for leverage.
I kick wildly as I scoot farther and farther from the window, pulling one leg from his grip. I am so close. My shoe pops off, and the release of his weight on my leg propels me forward— I am scrabbling, crawling, and wiggling until I can pick myself up.
I stumble, just getting a bearing on my new surroundings, but the first thing I see is a man I don’t recognize. He’s coming right for me with a look of determination. I start to run but he tackles me, laying me out like a linebacker. The air is knocked out of me. As I sputter, my new problem starts to try and pick me up. I grip my trusty scissors in hand and stab the first body-part I can see. He shrieks and drops me, but it’s not a long-lived victory. He knocks the scissors from my hand and punches me in the stomach. I double over, tired of all the pain and running low on energy.
The sound of an opening car door fills me with hope and desperation all at once. I don’t know if it’s really him, but I scream at the top of my lungs, “KIIILAA!”
Chapter 24
KILA
“We’re being followed,” Vala says as we round a corner at top speed.
“You are driving like a maniac,” Kiva shouts as he knocks against the interior wall of the door. Pakka and Mori have braced themselves against the ceiling, contrastingly un-flustered by the turbulence.
“Four armed combatants in the vehicle trailing us,” Mori says. “There are two males with weapons at the house we are approaching. One is unarmed. Two females, one is presumably Ella, and another.”
Vala jerks his arm to get our attention. “Straightaways here. Shoot the tires.”
Without speaking, we glance at Pakka. He’s our best shot and he’s already moving. He slides toward the back doors which open out. Cracking one side open, he slips his arm out with stinger in hand. He’s braced against the side, staring through the window. He hesitates for a couple seconds before he unleashes four shots in succession.
“Get down,” he says.
I slide down in my seat. Mori, Pakka, and Kiva hit the floor as human bullets begin firing at the back of the van. Vala swerves to deter accuracy. They’re not hitting us for long though, because Pakka’s shots slowed them down.
“I only hit three,” he gripes. I drop the window and take a good look behind us. The pursuit vehicle is slowing to a stop, and I can see our enemies emerging from the car.
“We’re close,” Mori warns. “They can pursue on foot.”
“What’s that?” Kiva asks, pointing to his scanner.
“That’s assumed Ella. She’s on the move,” he says. “She’s still inside the house, but she’s by a window now.”
I climb out of my seat and join them in the back. “Show me where she is. I will go to her there.”
Pakka nods. “Kila heads for Ella. Mori, back him up. Kiva and I will enter the house from the front entrance. Vala stays in the driver’s seat, ready for the pursuers on foot. Stingers set to incapacitate. Local authorities should arrive in less than ten.”
“Arriving!” Vala calls out. Then, we swerve and sail over rocky gravel ground.
I hold my breath. The familiar calm before battle washes over me, a sensation I haven’t felt since leaving my military assignment.
Pakka grips my arm. “Control,” he whispers.
“I promise nothing,” I say. “But I will try.”
“Move out,” Vala directs as he slams the brakes.
Mori’s first, sliding the van door open and hopping out. I follow him, eyes on the side of the house, searching the windows.
Then, I hear it.
“KILA!” The strained voice of my mate, screaming my name. My neck prickles, and I am sure that my eyes have blackened in seconds.
“Ella!” I am no longer aware of my team. I sprint towards the sound of her voice. It is dark, and the dwelling is flanked by bulky greenery. I crash through these prickly bushes, and when I emerge I can see her.