Chapter 32
Flynn stared up at the grating, bruised and bloodied. He’d come so fucking close. Hooked the grate a couple of times, pulled one side away. But he could never get a good enough grip.
His hind legs burned from a hundred jumps, and his front paws were matted with blood from scraping against the stone wall again and again.
One more, he kept telling himself, over and over. One more. One more. One more.
But he was getting weaker, the edge coming off his strength. He couldn’t keep this up forever.
Never give up, never say die. Brody. Jasmin.
You’re a good alpha. Xander.
We’re behind you, brother. Always. Tank.
He bunched his muscles once more, and jumped. His claws hit the wall inches short, and he fell.
Never give up.
A scream sliced through him. Silent, and full of agony.
Kira.
Fear and rage shot through him. With one mighty effort, he gathered himself and jumped. His right claws stuck in the grate, and he pulled himself up, strained muscles screaming.
Then the other paw. He felt like all his claws were being pulled out, but he hung on. He stuck his claws through the bent side of the grate and pulled it away from the wall, bit by bit. When he could get his paw inside it he Changed, getting one hand over the edge of the ventilation opening, then the other, pulling himself up, toes scrabbling at the wall.
The shaft was barely big enough for his shoulders. He inched his way in, glad for the sweat and blood that slicked his skin and helped him slide through. He crawled on his elbows, inch by inch, desperately claustrophobic now, his whole self bent on getting the fuck out of this tunnel.
He’d half feared the shaft would end in a guard room, but it was some kind of storage room. Flynn punched the grate out on the other end, not caring how much noise he made, just needing out.
Finally he was crouched, panting, in a real room with a real door.
When he got out of here, he was never going inside another castle as long as he fucking lived.
He made his way through the lower hallways to the stairway out of the dungeons. There was a guard there, but Flynn was in no mood for either stealth or finesse. He launched himself at the guard, broke his neck, and took his clothes and weapons.
He was done playing nice. Anyone who worked here knew they were supporting the creation of an army of killer hellhounds. They deserved no mercy.
Flynn bounded up the stairs, senses alert for other guards. When he found none, he headed for the closest emergency bag he’d stashed.
It was time for Plan B.
The bag had a radio, combat vest, spare handguns and ammo, some grenades and a little C-4. Most of the rest of the explosives were gone—Sloan must have come back and taken them.
Dammit, he’d told Sloan to call in the cavalry, not to go around blowing things up.
On the other hand, this meant he still had backup.
He hit the radio call button once. If an enemy had the radio, they wouldn’t hear his voice and know he’d escaped. Sloan would answer if he was someplace where he wouldn’t be overheard; otherwise, he’d hit the radio back and head for somewhere they could talk.
Sloan came back immediately. “Flynn?”
“That would be me.”
He could hear the relief in Sloan’s voice. “Thank god you’re okay. We couldn’t find you.”
“I was underground,” he said. “Stripped—no bracelets, no radio. Where does that fucker have Kira? In the lab?”
“Yeah. Guards everywhere.”
“Ah, hell. She’s fighting him, but she can’t hold out much longer. We’re going to have to break her out.”
Sloan said, “We have some backup coming. From the other side.”
That meant Caitlyn had made it out. Flynn was trying not to hear Kira, because knowing she was hurting made him too crazy to plan. But her screams knifed through him. “That would be fucking awesome, but we can’t wait.” He took a deep breath. “We go with what we’ve got. It’s time to take this sorcerer down.”
“Hell fucking yeah.”
Kira strained against the restraints, fighting Ragnor with everything in her, everything Flynn had given her. She couldn’t hear Flynn, and she was afraid to call out for him in her mind.
Afraid Ragnor would know.
But his strength was there for her, their bond sustaining her.
The pressure against her relaxed, and she could see the fury on Ragnor’s face. “You think you can hold out?” he hissed. “I’ll break you down. The harder you fight, the more I’ll make you suffer.”
And the more he was suffering. She could see the sweat and pain on his face.
“Give it your best shot, you evil murdering fucker.”
“Your lion is dead.”
“No, he’s not. You couldn’t even do that right.”
He stared at her, comprehension dawning. “You did bond with him. You started the process. You’re drawing on the power of the bond…”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “He’s just my guardian.”
“You’re a liar. He’s the only reason you’ve resisted as long as you have. With him gone, that bond will be broken.”
Ragnor started laughing. “You are a fool. You’ve just signed his death warrant.”
He dropped her hand, stepping back.
Behind him, the great carved doors exploded inward with a huge “boom.” The hellhounds guarding the door went flying, rubble raining down on them. Papers littered the air; furniture and equipment rocked and fell. Ragnor was knocked to the ground.
Flynn strode through the smoke and dust, his black dreads matted and wild, an assault rifled cradled in his bloody hands.
Kira drew on the power Ragnor had woken inside her, wild and crackling and trying to get loose. The leather restraints began to burn away.
Ragnor lunged at her from the floor and she kicked him away, tearing herself loose from the chair.
Flynn was shooting at the remaining hellhounds, ripping their limbs apart in a hail of bullets. Kira focused on Ragnor. All the rage she’d kept bottled up for years rose up in her—the death of her clan, the torture of her family.
She used all the powers she had—martial arts and magic. He was quick, lashing at her with dark fire, trying to capture her with his slithery ropes.
But she had the bracelet, and she had her skills, and she had Flynn. Alive and free.
She was a match for anyone.
She attacked Ragnor with a flurry of punches and kicks, following up with a blast of magic. He blocked her, but a bit of her magic got through his guard, sizzling his skin.
He tossed one of his evil lassos and she ducked, snatching one of Flynn’s knives from the pile of weapons. When he threw another rope, she slashed at it with knife and magic, severing it. He howled.
Flynn was fighting his way to her, but three more hellhounds were bounding into the room. They had to get Ragnor. Without his direction, the hellhounds might not fight.
She moved in on the sorcerer, dodging and feinting, maneuvering him into a corner. Finally, she left him an opening.
Black lightning slashed through the air. She blocked it with the bracelet, and it ricocheted back, striking his arm and spinning him around.
Kira grabbed his arm—the one wearing the bracelet—and yanked the gold cuff off his wrist. He howled in rage. She knocked him back with a magically enhanced roundhouse kick, and yelled, “Flynn!”
He elbowed a hellhound in the face, knocking it cold, and turned. She threw the bracelet at him, and he caught it and slapped it on his wrist.
“Get Ragnor!” she shouted.
Flynn let off a spray of bullets into the next wave of hellhounds, slowing them down. Then he ran for Kira, vaulting across a table of equipment, sending everything on it flying as he slid over the top. They joined hands and raised their outside wrists, bracelets gleaming.
Kira focused.
Twin spikes of blue flame converged on Ragnor, engulfing him. He screamed in agony, black and blue fire twining around him, and he slumped to the floor.
The hellhounds dropped, howling and writhing, clawing at their own heads trying to stop the pain. Flynn snatched up his belongings from the floor where they’d had fallen when the table overturned. He grabbed Kira’s hand. “Time to leave.”
“Not without Emon and Mayah.”
Flynn gave her a crooked grin. “Got it covered, sweetheart.” He ran to the dragon’s cell and shoved something soft and malleable into the lock. It sparked and burst, and the door swung open.
He hit the button on his radio. “Caitlyn! Light it up!”
He pulled Kira down behind the dragon’s huge bulk, protected by its armor-plated hide. The wall behind the dragon exploded to rubble, letting in the pale dawn light. With a crackle of power, the magical force field around the cage dissipated.
The dragon surged to its feet, and Flynn and Kira pulled Mayah away from its claws. It pushed through the hole in the wall, sending loose stone skittering down to the ground below. With a pitiful, strangled roar, it leaped out into the air, spreading its wings and gliding across the valley.
Behind them, they could hear the howls of hellhounds.
Kira ran to the edge and looked down at the four-story drop. “How the hell are we going to get down?”
Flynn grinned at her. “Plan C.” He yelled, “Sloan. Hit it!”
Three ropes slithered down from above, and Sloan slid down one, coming to a stop in front of them. “Good to see you.”
Flynn slung Mayah over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, holding her with his left hand, and gripped one of the ropes with his right. “Come on!”
Kira grabbed the second rope, wrapping it around her hands and one leg, and the three of them slid to the ground.
So far, no one was following.
“How far do we have to go before we can gate out?” Sloan asked.
“Top of the ridge,” Kira said, pointing across the valley.
Flynn said, “Then we better fucking run.”