Page 97 of Cerulean Truth (Sapere #1)

Releasing him, I stepped back, the urgency of finding Emma and stopping the Radicals burning hotter than ever.

After I verified his intel with a corresponding heat signature, I slit his throat. Not entirely, but enough to ensure a slow agonizing death in the cramped closet.

It was still a quicker end than he deserved.

Pulling up the Nexus, I translated in the coordinates for Emma’s holding cell and rushed off, my eyes darting between the blueprints and the current reality of the hallways, adjusting my course accordingly.

My heart didn’t race and my mind wasn’t clouded with fear, this was what I was trained for.

As I continued farther down the building, I reached a door marked with a nondescript label.

This should be where the Radicals were holding Emma.

Carefully turning the handle, I quickly translated a soundproof movement.

The door to the clean room slid open silently as I entered, my senses still on high alert.

The stark whiteness of the room contrasted sharply with the darkness of the corridors I’d just navigated, and a chill ran down my spine as I took in the sterile surroundings.

My eyes quickly scanned the space, searching for any sign of Emma.

My gaze landed first on the empty chair, surrounded by slashed pieces of rope, where she had clearly been held against her will and my jaw tightened.

It was only then I noticed two Radicals bleeding out on the floor and pride surged through me like never before. My Emma. She was a fucking force to be reckoned with—there was no holding her back and I was so fucking proud I had helped unleash her.

My eyes zoomed in on a medical tray and a humongous quantity of medical instruments scattered over the floor; syringes, scalpels and shit I didn’t even recognize.

The room clearly carried the memories of her struggle and an invisible thread seemed to connect me to the terror she must have felt.

She had obviously fought back with all she could find but why the hell hadn’t she portaled her way out?

The realization she had been confined here, subjected to whatever experiments they had in mind, fueled the growing rage within me. The sight of the tools that had been used on her, instruments meant to pry into the very core of her being, unhinged me and I nearly lost it.

I swore then and there every single one of her attackers, every man or woman who had dared to touch her, who was responsible for even a scratch on that beautiful body of hers, would die an agonizing death at my hands. They had sealed their fate when they laid a hand on what was mine.

I would kill them slowly, exercising a form of torture and revenge, even mythical monsters would deem “too bloody” for their taste. And I would fucking revel in it.

My hands clenched into fists as I fought tooth and nail to maintain composure. I had to keep my focus on finding her first and rescuing her from this nightmarish scenario—one I had promised I would always keep her safe from.

Leaving the room, I moved with determined urgency, my footsteps loud through the hallways. My eyes searched through every door, every corner, as I desperately sought any clue that would lead me to Emma. Where the hell is she?

A muffled sound caught my attention—a distant cry, a plea for help. Instinctively, I followed the sound, pushing myself to move faster. As I turned a corner, my heart skipped a beat. There, at the end of the hallway, a door slightly ajar revealed a sliver of light.

With a burst of speed, I reached the door and yanked it open. The scene greeting me, installed both relief and horror.

Emma, battered but resilient, stood among a bouquet of lifeless bodies, resembling the godsdamn Angel of Death.

Her eyes widened upon spotting me, a mix of disbelief and hope flashing through them, “James? What are you doing here?”

There I was, ready to save her from all her attackers, only to discover she never needed me in the first place. To be honest, my hero-ego took a little beating.

I scratched my neck, attempting to compose myself.

"Well, uhm… rescuing you, actually..." I admitted, my words trailing off as I took in the devastation surrounding us.

Emma arched a skeptical brow, a glimmer of humor in her eyes. "Really?" A slow smile illuminated her face. “What happened? You took pity on the turtle and let him win?”

I snorted, closing the distance with a step toward her. "Nah, I just figured you needed the warm-up before I stole your thunder."

She grinned, her expression sly.

Ignoring the magically enhanced decay of the corpses around us, I made my way through the bodies, my eyes never straying from hers. I wanted to ask her if she was all right but the words stayed stuck in my throat.

Her smile slowly faded, and a more serious expression crossed her features.

"Thank you," she murmured softly, "for training me. I wouldn't be standing here if you hadn't. I can't…" She sighed heavily, her gratitude tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

I'd almost reached her, aching to hold her in my arms. “You're very welcome,” I whispered, extending my hand to her, yearning for her touch and the reassurance that she was okay. Simply seeing her wasn’t enough; I needed to be certain. I had to hold her, make sure she was breathing and well.

But she stiffened, then took a step away from me.

I frowned in confusion. “What’s going on?”

She kept staring at me without uttering another word, keeping her distance. My heart sank, and I let out a deep sigh. My failed attempt at rescue clearly didn't erase the past few days.

"You're still angry with me," I said, grasping the unspoken message. She didn’t reply.

"Let's get you home first; we'll talk later," I promised softly, extending my hand once again.

Then, without warning, her eyes rolled back, and I caught her just in time before she collapsed in my arms.