CHAPTER TEN
Dylan heard Isabella’s cry of horror very clearly, almost taking an inch off his life as he delivered a round kick to a huge guard that was trying to take him down. He whirled in her direction, prepared to run, but was puzzled to find her standing and not being attacked. Her eyes were focused somewhere else, and he turned his head to look and found a sight that just didn’t predict any good outcome.
Simon was surrounded by guards, as if they knew he was the start of all this. He was holding a torch in his hand, as opposed to the sharp weapons they used. Beside him stood a man with his own torch, and Dylan looked into blue eyes and saw what was about to happen to Isabella’s brother if he didn’t interfere.
So he launched himself in that direction, never once stopping. Dylan muscled his way into the center of the circled group and made a systematic attack, handling the first one with a surprise slash on the back. The group turned to him, saw his dagger, and changed their focus towards him. Dylan met Simon’s gaze for a split of a second, and Simon nodded before helping out the brother. Then Dylan’s focus was consumed as everyone started attacking him at once with fury.
Right. To them he was Sanders, and this was a betrayal.
None of them were as experienced as him in a fight, which just showed Henley would rather buy quality goods and let the island’s non-magic thing take care of the rest. He slashed through most of them without any problem, but had trouble with the last one when he took out a small gun from his pocket and shot Dylan near the stomach.
Dylan punched that last one out in the face, knocking him unconscious with sheer power. Then he grimaced as he felt pain lance down where the bullet dug in.
Someone approached him, and Dylan whirled and held out his dagger. But it was Isabella’s brother, and he held up his hands in surrender and eyed Dylan warily.
“Jason Hart,” Dylan intoned.
Jason narrowed his eyes. “Which side are you on, Sanders?”
Dylan shook his head. “I’m not Sanders. Sanders is dead.”
Jason’s eyes widened. “You’re with that Simon boy.”
Dylan nodded. “And your sister.”
Surprise filled those blue eyes, and Jason looked around. But Isabella was still Blossom, and it wasn’t easy to explain in the middle of this chaos. So Dylan indicated towards the buildings with his hand. “Everyone out?”
“Not yet.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Simon running in a certain direction and disappearing from sight. Dylan turned his attention back to Jason.
“Can you get them all out and have the older ones man the ships?”
Jason nodded. “I’m on it.”
Then he was disappearing from view, too, swallowed by the crowd that still hadn’t thinned out.
Dylan took a moment to look around for Isabella, found her gone, and broke into a run straight in the same direction as Simon’s. He passed by tiny prison buildings and saw some fire starting there, too, with the cells mostly open—Simon’s doing. He followed the trail, finally arriving at the area where he’d found Robin a few hours later. Her cell was open, but the lock wasn’t broken.
Simon was nowhere to be found.
Dylan cursed under his breath. Then he tried to use his scenting abilities, sifting through the smoke and looking for Simon’s and Robin’s scent. He found them, but they were faint. Then he found another scent, a body odor that was distinct, just recent and near Robin’s cell.
He used it to track them down, missing a few times when he lost the scent and had to backtrack. More explosions sounded near the market area, but he couldn’t focus on that now and knew Isabella and Jason were on it. He finally recovered the scent five minutes later, following blindly through the night and encountering some pirates that he needed to knock out.
When he found Simon and Robin, they were in a not-so-good state. The body odor that Dylan scented belonged to the bulky man Robin had described to him, and the man now had a knife close to her throat as he used her as a shield. She tried to struggle, but his big arms kept her contained and there was nothing much she could do. The man knew how to lock arms tight, and Dylan had a feeling he wasn’t as amateur as the other guards.
Simon was in front of the two, baring his teeth and glaring daggers. The man didn’t look the least bit perturbed, instead turning his gaze towards Dylan, who was approaching calmly.
“It would be very beneficial for the both of us if you release her,” Dylan said, keeping his tone pleasant.
The man cursed. “You’re not Sanders.”
Dylan nodded. “If you release her, I will—”
“Shut up!” the man shouted, his grip tightening. A trickle of blood spilled down Robin’s neck, and she froze. Simon snarled, making a move to leap forward.
But Dylan stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, using his strength to contain the boy. The bulky man watched the movement.
“You’re the start of all this mess?”
Dylan shrugged. “Maybe.”
The man smirked. “The girl’s mine. I’m leaving with her.” His grip tightened, one hand resting intimately on Robin’s stomach.
It made fury boil inside Dylan, but he kept himself outwardly calm and uncaring. “Ah,” he murmured. “But that’s just not possible. You see, that girl is one of us.”
Dylan still kept his tone pleasant, but his gaze had shifted to Robin, who was eyeing him steadily. She was utterly calm, waiting for his instructions. Dylan let Simon throw out some insults and threats, which the man returned—and which in turn distracted him.
He shifted his eyes once to her feet, then the man’s. He saw her eyes follow the movement. When they returned to meet her gaze, he saw that she understood.
The knife tightened again, and it looked like whatever Simon was saying was getting to the man. Dylan squeezed the boy’s shoulder in warning.
“Now, Simon, that’s not a proper way to treat a man who’s clearly intent on negotiating—”
He moved all of a sudden, cutting off his own words and catching Simon by surprise. At the same time, Robin stomped on the man’s feet as hard as she could, effectively loosening his grip on her.
It was the leeway Dylan needed as he launched himself at the man. They rolled on the ground with a hard thud, and the knife slashed at him, trying to sink in. Robin was thrown to the side, where Simon caught her with his fast reflexes before she could fall. Dylan only had a moment to bark at them to run and rescue the prisoners before he was throwing himself again in the fight.
As predicted, the man was a skilled fighter and strong, giving Dylan a run for his money as he used the knife to his advantage and tried to cut Dylan over and over. A particular power move had Dylan cornered with his back on a building’s wall, with the man’s knife plunging in. It reached the injury where the bullet went in, making the pain double. The man powered through, and Dylan’s arms shook as he pushed the man off. Without his added shifter strength, he couldn’t outmatch the man here.
The knife kept digging in. Then the man changed the angle up, and Dylan realized that it was headed straight for his heart in a few seconds.
He pushed again. He struggled and kicked, and finally gained some ground as the man staggered back and the knife fell to the ground. They used hands now to fight, swinging at each other until their faces were bloodied and their knuckles were torn.
The man spat blood on the ground. “I just wanted the girl. Did you fucking want to share?”
Dylan’s gaze was steel. “I don’t do little girls.”
The man grinned. “That’s sad. She’d have been delicious…and screaming my name once I was done with her.”
The knife glinted, and they both dove for it. The man reached it first.
But Dylan kicked him and snatched it from his hand. The man gripped his injury, squeezing and making him lose his breath. Dylan staggered and fell, his vision blurring slightly.
Without hesitation, he fell on the man.
Then he plunged the knife in the man’s neck.
There was a gurgle of blood as shock glazed over the man’s eyes, disbelieving that he was defeated. Then he dropped cold on the ground, taking Dylan with him as they both crashed hard. Dylan gritted his teeth as the pain intensified, taking a moment to breathe through his nose before pushing himself back on his feet.
He staggered twice, then lurched in the general direction of the chaos. Dylan pressed a hand on his wound to slow the bleeding, the limp now no longer pretend. It didn’t matter. He still needed to fight.
And he needed to find Isabella.