Pierce

This time there was no strain upon his senses as they drove through the city.

Pierce had expected it, even prepared for the imaginary giant hand to press down upon him with even more strength, aided by his own stress, confusion, and anger at the situation unfolding in front of him. And unfolding was certainly the most accurate term to use. Mila had told him all he needed to hear, but it certainly wasn’t everything that was going on.

He glanced at her now from where he sat in the rear row, noting the grim determination upon her face, and the way her knuckles where slowly turning white as she took the wheel in a death grip. If she hadn’t had to focus on doing the driving—operating a motor vehicle wasn’t something he’d ever done before, scarce as they were back in Cadia—Pierce was positive that she’d be shaking.

“It’ll be okay,” he said calmly, trying to reassure her, using confidence that he didn’t possess.

That’s an exaggeration. I mean, it’s not a terrible plan. It could work. There are a few big hitches, including the part where they still think she’s loyal to them. But besides that…it could work. I just have to hope it will.

“I know,” Mila replied in a distracted tone, very obviously not having truly heard what he said and just responding in a way her brain thought would get him to shut up.

Pierce thought about continuing, and saying some more. But he didn’t. There was no need. Nor would it help the situation. He needed Mila focused and at her best to pull this off.

“We’re getting close,” she said abruptly, her shoulders straightening. “Get in position.”

Pierce looked around. “I am in position.”

“I mean look like you’re unconscious,” she snapped.

“Fine,” he replied, lying down.

“Don’t forget to make it look authentic.”

“Right,” he muttered. “I think this is just for your sadistic sense of humor, to be honest. I don’t think it has anything to do with making the plan work any more or less than it already will.”

“Just shut up and do it. We’re only a block away.”

The strain in her voice was evident now, even as Pierce relaxed onto the seat. He wondered what the reversal in situation meant, if anything. When they’d first come to the city, he’d been the nervous, stressful wreck, barely able to concentrate.

Now he was lying on the seat, about to do something mildly painful, and he didn’t seem to have a care in the world for it. At any other point he’d probably have started laughing over it. Now he just braced himself, raising his right hand above his chest, and with a resigned sigh, slammed it down.

“Ow,” he complained as a steel dart embedded itself deep in his skin, courtesy of his own hand.

“Is that both of them?” Mila asked uncaringly from the driver’s seat.

Pierce hissed. “It is now,” he said as the other dart lodged itself into his stomach.

“You big baby, you’ll heal,” she told him.

Pierce glared at her, though he knew she couldn’t see him. “Just because I heal fast doesn’t mean I don’t feel any pain! I feel just as much pain as anyone else might. More, maybe, since I’m a sensitive soul.”

“You mean you’re a wuss,” Mila said dryly.

“In my culture we just call it understanding,” he retorted nobly.

“No you don’t.”

“No, we don’t,” he admitted.

The pair fell silent as they realized they’d fallen back into what they were comfortable with: flirting. Pierce closed his eyes, grateful that he was actually supposed to be playing possum, which meant he could just say he was getting into character by not replying.

It hurt to know that he may never repair his relationship with Mila ever again. That she and him might be done. His gut told him they weren’t, but then again, his gut also had two inches of solid steel sticking from it. So maybe he shouldn’t trust what it was saying just then. It’d probably come up with anything to get him to remove the uncomfortable dart from his middle.

They were the same two darts she’d shot him with earlier, emptied and cleaned of any tranquilizer, so he didn’t actually pass out. Pierce smiled in his “sleep.” But the guards wouldn’t know that.

He felt the SUV slow, and go over a curb.

“We’re here,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

Then the vehicle tilted and began to descend. They were heading down a ramp. So far, so good, just as Mila had told him to expect. Next would be a sharp left—the SUV turned left even as he thought it. Now the first real tough part.

The guard hut.

“ID please,” the guard said.

“Hey Chuck,” Mila said, her voice casual, though Pierce could hear the strained undertone to it.

“Miss Chaire,” came the polite response. “Good to see you. How was your hunt?”

There was no reply, but he heard material rustling and figured Mila must have just pointed back at him. The window above his head opened slightly, and then he heard Chuck grunt.

“Sounds good. Want me to radio you on in for support?”

She nodded. “Yes please. Getting him in here was a fucking nightmare. I’d really rather have someone else do the rest of the dirty work from here on out.”

Chuck laughed. “I hear that. Okay, Miss C. You know where to go.”

Pierce managed not to frown, but there was something about the way the guard had addressed Mila. He repeated the scene over and over again in his head, but whatever his brain was trying to tell him, it remained elusive and just out of reach.

“One down,” Mila said in a low voice.

“We’re fine,” he told her. “Just relax.”

“I would if you’d stop distracting me,” she hissed.

“I’m not distracting you,” he replied serenely. “You’re doing that to yourself, though I haven’t been able to figure out why yet.”

“Shut up.”

He did, keeping his mouth shut. For a moment he cracked an eye to see what he might see through the window across from him, but all he saw was the roof and far wall, painted a boring stark white, with very little other coloring.

“Three guards and a gurney,” she told him. Then she corrected herself. “Four guards, one standing apart from the others, like a leader.”

Pierce didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. All he needed to know was what to expect when he opened his eyes. They weren’t going to get past this point with Mila still being able to accompany him. So they’d had to improvise.

The vehicle stopped, and then reversed itself for a short period of time before coming to a halt.

“Okay, here they come. I’m getting out. I’ll take the one apart from the group. The other three are yours.”

He just agreed with a low “Mm-hmm.”

Mila got out, and he heard her talking to the guards. Moments later his door opened. Pierce did his best to lay limp and be of exactly no help as they wrangled his massive form from the vehicle. It was tough to remain quiet when they bumped his head repeatedly, though he was positive he heard Mila trying to cover up laughter via coughing.

“How did you manage this on your own?” one of the guards complained as they hoisted Pierce upright, their shoulders in his armpits.

“How did I do it?” Mila asked.

Pierce recognized the signal.

“Yeah, this guy weighs a ton!”

“I know. That’s why I had help putting him there.”

“You had—”

Suddenly Pierce came alive, his feet planting on the ground as power surged through his legs. He stepped back slightly from the two guards holding him up, simultaneously placing his hands on the back of their heads. As he moved backward out of the way, he brought his hands together, cracking their heads with enough force to send them both falling limply to the floor.

“What the hell?”

Pierce whirled, already tracking on the third guard behind him.

“No!” Mila said, an instant before a dart appeared in that man’s chest.

Shit.

Pierce had gone after the wrong guard, distracted by his voice.

Spinning around, he lunged after the remaining guard.

“Control this is—”

He never got to finish the sentence as Pierce’s hand closed around the guard’s hand and the radio within it, crushing both of them into small pieces. The weight of his impact as the rest of his body caught up to his hand took the guard to the floor, where he landed with a rough crunch sound. Blood poured from his nose, spreading quickly across the white floor. For a moment Pierce thought he was dead.

Then the man groaned, and he sighed with relief. The last thing he needed was to kill a human. That would be very bad news for him, and would bring a whole pile of hurt down on Cadia. Pierce had caused enough trouble; he didn’t need to add that to the rest of his crimes.

He pulled back his leg, intending to give the man a kick to knock him out, but the body jerked as a steel dart erupted into his ribs.

“I guess that works too,” he said as Mila pulled a spare magazine of darts from somewhere and slammed it home into the gun.

“Come on,” she snapped. “We don’t know if he got that call off or not. Time to move.”

“Hold on,” he said, looking around.

“Pierce, there is no time,” Mila hissed.

He rolled his eyes, reached down, and grabbed the body of the nearest guard, hauling it behind the SUV. Then he did the same for the others.

“Okay, now let’s go,” he told her.

She gave him a questioning look, but headed for the set of double doors to the right of the parked vehicle, leading them into the building itself.

“That way it’ll at least take anyone coming from any other direction longer to find them,” he explained as he followed her lead, albeit unhappily.

They entered the doors, and once more Pierce was confronted with white. The ceiling, walls, and even the floor had all been painted the same shade of pristine white. There was next to no variance as they ran along the corridor.

What an ugly choice of décor.

Pierce knew he was the best suited to lead the charge into the Institute. As a shifter he had all sorts of advantages over humans. Mila was good, well trained, and apparently no slouch of a martial artist either. That last part surprised him, but she said it had been a hobby long before she’d ever actually needed it for work. But she wasn’t a shifter.

There was, however, one simple reason why she was leading and he wasn’t. Mila knew where they were going, and Pierce would have been lost in seconds. But true to the agreement she’d worked out earlier, Mila stayed to the right of the hallway, leaving a pathway for Pierce to storm by if they encountered guards.

“Where to now?” he hissed as they came to a cross-intersection.

“This way,” Mila said with a quick glance at their surroundings.

Pierce followed without hesitating, rounding the corner after her, only to come slamming to a halt.

The far end of the corridor was packed with guards. Six, to be precise, all of whom were aiming what appeared to be tranquilizer guns at them.

“What the fuck?” he asked, twisting sideways so as to present a slimmer profile.

It didn’t matter though, because behind him other men were emerging from a doorway to cut off their retreat.

Pierce snarled as they just stood there, aiming their guns at them.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen, Mila,” he said calmly. “What do we do now?”

Mila turned to look at him, and he felt himself grow apprehensive at the suddenly calm and easy manner with which she regarded him.