Page 157 of Hurt

His rifle leaped in his hands as he found his next victim. Ears ringing from the shot, he smiled as he watched the Vega fall to the ground.

Movement to the right caught his eye, and he followed Willow and Roland as they limped toward the medical tent. The woman had Roland’s arm wrapped over her shoulders and was trying to support her. From this vantage point, Jamie could see that Roland was deliberately not putting any weight on Willow’s shoulders.

“Yeah, yeah, all big and tough until your wifey comes along,” Jamie muttered to no one.

In all fairness to his boss, Willow looked like hell. There wasn’t a single clean inch of skin, and her wide gray eyes shone with something closer to mania than the joy they usually had. Even from the roof, Jamie could see her fingers were torn to shreds. She wouldn’t be playing the violin anytime soon.

He watched the two safely enter the medical area. Molly and Dr. Edil had joined forces to take care of the Weaver and Mesa wounded. Cars were circled around the cleared area with the doctors working by the light from their headlights.

Returning to scanning the compound, he found Jackson looking like an absolute snack. His hair was coming loose from that high ponytail, and there was a sheen of sweat on his olive skin. That heavy saber cut through limbs like they were tissue paper, looking like it weighed nothing in those strong hands. Jamie watched as he single-handedly kicked in a thick wooden door and dodged a wild swing from the Vega hiding inside.

Jackson was too distracting, so he found Elijah instead.

Like he had been for most of the battle, he was beside Noah. The two were not on speaking terms, but they continued to gravitate toward one another. Maybe it was because he was at such a high vantage point, but he watched as the two men orbited around each other like they belonged. Two men caught in each other’s gravity.

Fearlessly, they had each other’s backs. Noah would get overwhelmed, and Elijah would be right there, his blades whipping in to save the day. At the same time, Noah took multiple hits meant for Elijah.

Jamie watched as his friend stared at Noah’s back with a mixture of sadness and longing that made him physically ill.

He had never seen two people meant to be together doing it all wrong.

How do you fuck up soulmates?

With a huff, he caught a blur of movement, and he swiveled just in time. The shot was garbage, but it took the guy's knee out. Someone would come by later and finish the job.

That someone came by a lot faster than he thought.

Grant’s knife arced up in an effortless slice, nearly taking the guy’s head off and ceasing his howls of pain. He didn’t even pause in his run, just continued heading for the tall building opposite Jamie.

Examining the building, Jamie realized that must be where they were keeping Kurt.

“Good luck, boss,” he said into the comm.

Anger hummed in his veins. The strong emotion made his movements erratic and stilted. Grant knew he was running on pure adrenalin. The monster inside him was at the end of its lead, snarling and straining against the tether that held him back. All his logic and planning were gone. There was nothing left in him but the drive to see Kurt again.

He had been in Ezra’s grasp for forty-eight hours. Every moment he was gone was agony.

Grant wouldn’t rest until Kurt was back in his arms again. He didn’t care how battered or bruised or broken. He would take as much time as needed to put him back together again. Whether it was years or a lifetime. Grant didn’t care. He just needed Kurt to be safe with him.

Grant would take Kurt far from here. He would tuck him away from the world until he could breathe again, until he could stand on his own, for as long as he needed.

But to do that, he needed to kill Ezra.

Grant had never enjoyed violence. He found the torture needed for interrogations to be gratuitous and off-putting. His job required him to be comfortable with a certain level of viciousness, but it didn’t mean he enjoyed it. Grant watched it in a detached sort of way. It was a tool to get what he needed. There was no joy or excitement in seeing a man shaking in terror just before he died.

Ezra would change that.

Perhaps the logical Grant would deliver a quick and efficient killing blow. Ending the man’s reign of terror with a flick of his wrist. But that Grant had let the beast loose. He had stepped back into the shadows and felt a grim sort of satisfaction as the monster snapped its jaws and brayed for blood.

Now, he would tear the joints from Ezra’s body. He would wash his hands in the blood that spilled from a thousand cuts on his body. His blood lust wouldn’t be satiated until the man was a quivering mess begging for a mercy that didn’t exist. Grant would bring him to the very precipice of death, just so he could see him stare his own mortality in the face before yanking him back and doing it all over again.

Grant would destroy him so thoroughly that neither of them would survive the experience.

His anger carried him through to the front door. It took two tries, but he finally got the door broken down. It swung in on bent hinges and wobbled as he pushed his way through.

The foyer had two Vega Cabals standing guard. They were unprepared for the look in Grant’s eyes. The first had a shotgun. Swinging it around to aim at him, Grant stepped in close and grabbed the barrel of the gun under his arm. Pinning it against his ribs, he used it to push the Vega back against the wall.

A bottle shattered over his head. The force knocked him sideways, but he didn’t let go of the first man. Blinking liquid out of his eyes, he punched the pinned man in the throat with the hand curled around the hilt of his knife.