Page 158 of Hurt

Yanking the gun out of his grip, he pressed it to the second's face. The man made a strangled noise of protest before Grant blew half his face away.

Both men collapsed to the ground, and Grant left them there with the empty shotgun.

He had not been in any of the Catacomb’s buildings. The foyer of this one led straight to a narrow set of stairs. Grant took them two at a time, ducking his head under the low ceiling. Ezra had been on the third-floor balcony. It occurred to him that Ezra might have fled. A place like this was bound to have secret passages and escape routes. Places a coward like Ezra could flee to.

Grant would follow him. The desert was vast, but Grant’s patience was endless.

The décor changed rapidly, and in any other circumstance, Grant might have paused to take it in. His feet carried him past two landings before the stairway dead-ended in a hallway. Taking the right branch, he jogged down the hallway until he came across a door ajar. Pushing it all the way open, he found what looked like a darkened bedroom. It was empty.

He found three more rooms like the first and an organized linen closet before he came to the final door.

There was nothing special about this door, but he had a sense it was the one he needed. Kurt was on the other side. He was so close, yet his hand was trembling as it reached for the doorknob.

Half expecting it to be locked, he was surprised when it swung open easily.

A single red emergency light illuminated half the room. Twisted shadows stretched across the cement floor toward him, sinister tendrils beckoning him to enter. Stepping through the doorway, he carried his knife in front of him and let his eyes adjust to the room.

Quick stock of the room revealed a bland bedroom. His eyes flicked over everything until he found a thick coiled rope. One end was tied around the bed. It was half cut, like someone had been working at the strands and then interrupted. The other was frayed like it had been cut hastily with a blunt object.

The sight made him sick. To think that Kurt, his Wanyin, was tied here—it made him clench his jaw and storm into the room.

“Ezra!” he shouted—the name ripped from the depths of his soul with such cruelty that he didn’t recognize his own voice.

His foot slipped, and he looked down to see a pool of blood. Now that his eyes were accustomed to the darkness, he could pick out several large stains in varying stages of dryness.

Grant recoiled, and for the first time, he considered that Kurt might already be dead.

Cold sweat pricked his back, and he shuddered.

No. No. No.

He couldn’t believe that. He wouldn’t. That was not an option.

A soft squeak jerked his attention back to the balcony. Stepping over the blood puddles, he came around so he was square with the double doors.

Ezra was standing on the cement half wall surrounding the balcony. The whites of his eyes flashed, and he grinned ferally when he caught sight of Grant.

He had Kurt.

Bloody and weak, but it was him. His lovely face was obscured with bruises and swelling. Kurt’s right eye was barely able to open, and the hand he could see was misshapen with obvious fractures. He was clearly bearing all his weight on one leg while the other dangled uselessly.

He looked so frail, so utterly wrecked, and yet there was a spark in his eyes. They found his and locked on.

Kurt was beaten but not broken.

Grant inhaled sharply and made to reach for him when Ezra spoke.

“Stop right there!”

His legs stopped moving before his mind caught up with it. Taking a moment, he finally understood the situation.

Ezra was holding a wire around Kurt’s neck with his right hand, clutching him to his chest with a white-knuckled grip. His other hand was extended up over their heads, holding a small black box Grant didn’t recognize.

“Come near me with that pig sticker, and I’ll give you front row seats to ground zero.”

Kurt’s heart fluttered at the sight of Grant. Seeing him, for a moment, the pain abated. A brief reprieve in time where the only thing between them was empty space.

Then Ezra spoke, and the illusion was shattered. Kurt’s pain came crashing back into him.