Page 55

Chief Styles Sawyer

Zorion

Zorion fired multiple flare arrows into the rooms, and the contents and any remnants of the Ravens organization burst into flames.

“Floor twenty-seven. Four armed.”

Zorion reached behind him, his quiver rotating as he snagged a white halothane-infused arrow.

As Valor kicked the stairwell door open, Zorion aimed his bow and shot into the crowd of men.

A hissing cloud exploded and filled the corridor with gas. When they heard the muffled coughs and shouts for help, Valor threw his mask over his nose and mouth, then dove into the hall.

Damn, he was fuckin’ amazing.

He tore through their enemies, his claws slicing muscle and sinew, the force of his blows shattering bones. A man aimed his shotgun at him, but Valor was faster, gripping the barrel and thrusting it upward into the man’s nose, sending a spray of blood arcing into the air.

The disciples tore through the blinded guards, their strikes fast, their deaths quick and merciful.

“You’re clear,” Jo said. “End of the hall, make a sharp right, and you’ll be at the lab. Burn it all, Zorion.”

They entered the huge laboratory that took up the entire left side of the building. The air was pungent with chemicals and haunting memories.

Zorion’s vision blurred as flashes of what they’d done to him pierced his chest. Cold metal tables, needles penetrating his flesh, the agony of transformation. He gritted his teeth, closing his eyes for a second to calm himself.

“Fire in the hole,” he rumbled. “Take cover.”

It looked as if his cherished was just as affected as he was at seeing this place again. Valor stared unblinking at a long metal table near a machine with more than a dozen tubes connected to empty bottles.

Zorion took out his grenade arrows, launching them into the mainframes and storage rooms. The bangs from each explosion were ear-deafening, yet they were still the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard.

Fire erupted, consuming everything as Valor ripped apart machinery, his strength reducing it to rubble. The disciples cleared out data servers, smashing hard drives under their boots.

Once the sprinklers began to rain down, they heard a sudden shout, then hushed whimpers behind a closed door labeled Storage .

The disciples stalked over and yanked on a steel knob that was locked.

Zorion snagged an arrow from behind him and shot the nitric-hydrochloric solution at the metal, causing it to crumble into a corroded shell.

Valor yanked the door open and Zorion was right there with a new arrow aimed at whoever was behind it.

“Please,” a woman cried, throwing her hands up.

Zorion recognized Dr. O’Reilley, Dr. Pheung, and Dr. Santana. Behind them were about fifteen trembling men and women in white lab coats.

Then he saw him, the fuckin’ assistant director, Hank Madison, cowering in the back with a 9mm handgun pointing shakily at the backs of the staff.

Zorion remembered his ugly face in the observation booth, smiling haughtily beside the director during their training.

“It’s the scientists,” Valor snarled. “And the asshole AD.”

“Don’t kill us, please. We’re hostages,” Dr. O’Reilley said, her eyelids shut tight as if she didn’t want to look death in the eye.

“Neutralize the threat.” Jo’s voice was firm.

It took a fraction of a second for Zorion to release a bow into the assistant director’s bicep, causing him to drop his firearm.

He fell to his knees with an agonizing scream, his eyes wide at the arrow that’d gone clean through his arm.

“Threat neutralized,” Zorion deadpanned, feeling no remorse.

“Good,” Jo answered. “Have the disciples get the scientists to the garage. I’ll have transports waiting.”

One disciple nodded that he’d stay with Valor and Zorion while instructing the other to go with the hostages.

Dr. O’Reilley opened her eyes wide, lips trembling.

“Valor.” She blinked, staring at his partner’s low hood. “Valor, is that you and…and Zorion?”

Zorion never lowered his bow.

“Oh my god, I thought you two were dead.”

“Take them to the transports,” Valor said, his voice rough.

Zorion wanted to go to him and wrap his arms around him, but he refrained. Omega taught him to never let his emotions get in the way of accomplishing his task. Their love would be there after the battle was won.

“Valor,” Dr. O’Reilley started before she could be rushed away, “there’s a family in a secured level. They’re alive. I can’t get into White Sector 30.”

Zorion’s eyes widened as Valor stormed forward and yanked the AD to his feet by his collar. He didn’t care about his screams or the tears that streamed from his reddened eyes.

“The secured level, where is it, and how do I get there?” Valor barked in his face. “Is that where Zelmir’s family is?”

The AD cried harder.

“Talk! Right now!” Valor gripped the arrow in the AD’s arm and rotated it. “Or I swear on my life, the next arrow is going in your goddamn chest!”

The AD paled before he murmured with spit and tears leaking onto his white collared shirt. “There’s…there’s a private elevator that will take you there. Behind the director’s office.”

Valor jerked him forward none-too-gently. “Take us now!”

“I can’t walk…the pain is too much,” the AD groveled, his knees buckling.

Valor yanked him up again. “Imagine having to walk with an arrow in your thigh.”

Zorion took aim and the AD screamed, “No!” so loud it rang in his ears.

“Then move your fuckin’ ass,” Valor growled.