A tingle walked up my spine, shivering the back of my neck. Turning my head over my shoulder, all I saw was Zander and Eliza behind us, their single headlight the only other occupant on the road. I shifted on the seat, feeling the itchy sensation, unsettled and jumpy from the time we left Killian’s property and got onto the motorway.
Keeping my gun cocked and ready in my grip, as my gaze constantly darted around, feeling at any moment something was going to jump out at us. But miles and miles went by, and there was no hint of anything. We were so close to the border, with only a mile left.
Breathing out, I leaned my face into Warwick’s back, giving myself a moment to soak in his warmth. My face hurt from the cold, every part of me willing us to cross into Slovakia.
One moment was all it took.
Tiny sounds crackled in the air, the bike skidding as the tires deflated under us, slipping and sliding us off the road. I caught sight of a spike strip lying across the dark road.
Blinding headlights burst in front of us right at the border, the squeal of tires pitched the air as three motorcycles next to the car lurched for us.
“Ambush!” Warwick bellowed back at Zander, steering the unusable bike into a ditch near old train tracks. Leaping off together, we started shooting double-handed at the unknown assailants, trying to guard Zander and Eliza. Zander stopped before hitting the spike strip, driving off the road on the other side, Eliza already shooting.
If our bike was working, we could have easily cut across the grass and headed for the main motorway, but now we were stuck.
A growl of an engine jerked my head behind us; another big truck with three motorcycles was coming up behind us.
Dread rolled in my gut.
“Warwick?” I dragged his attention to the group closing in on us. “This doesn’t feel like a raid party.”
“No, it doesn’t.” He swore under his breath. Holstering one of his guns, he yanked a weapon off the back of the bike, which reminded me of his claw-cleaver he had lost along the way. “Cover me.”
I nodded, my finger on the trigger as the first three motorcycles got closer. Warwick didn’t even wait. Barreling toward them, he swung the cleaver around with a roar. The sound of the blade slicing through flesh and bone hit my ears, followed the gurgling cry of a man before a head rolled onto the pavement. His bike tipped over, sliding across the road, sparks spewing up into the sky.
Shouts and cries came from the other men, bullets volleying at us. Eliza shot another one in the head as Warwick spun again, slicing through the arm of the last man, the limb splatting onto the ground next to my boots. With a guttural scream, he fell from the bike, bleeding out before Eliza shot him in the head.
Ice flooded my veins, terror filling my stomach when I spotted the symbol on the clothed arm laying at my feet.
The patch I had sewn on countless uniforms in Věrhăza. HDF.
Panic urged me to glance back at the truck heading for us, motorcycles in front of it. It wasn’t a normal vehicle. It was an armored truck. Istvan’s.
“It’s HDF!” I yelled at everyone. I attempted to pull at my powers as I did in the pit, but to little avail.
“Go! Go!” Warwick waved at Zander and Eliza. “They don’t want you. Get across the border.”
“We aren’t leaving you!” Eliza screamed back.
The armored truck in front of us roared to life. I could see only a single driver inside, heading for us. It struck me only because HDF were always in pairs.
“We’ll be right behind. We’ll run for it.” Warwick replied as gunfire came from the approaching riders.
“No!” She burrowed down, stubborn as her brother. The girl was no stranger to a gun, looking like a badass.
“Dammit, Eliza, go!” he bellowed, pointing to Zander. “Go!”
Zander nodded, revving the engine, urging Eliza to get on the back.
She glanced between us, sorrow reflecting in her eyes, before she ran for the bike.
“Eliza…” I called to her, her head twisting to me. I took a breath. “Sedlec Ossuary,” I said the name of the church Povstat hid under. The sacred knowledge that could destroy every life inside if discovered by the enemy. She would have known eventually, but something told me to tell her now.
She nodded, climbing on the bike, and Zander tore over the grass, heading for the main motorway. Gunfire from the oncoming attackers blasted at them.
“Come on!” Warwick spun for the rail tracks next to us, running down them, splitting the focus of the attackers. Sprinting right behind him, I felt the same prickle skate over my skin, warning me. Something I had felt before.
“War—”
Before I could get his name out, two shots rang out. Something hit my chest with a slam, tearing the air from my lungs, dropping my legs. Warwick stumbled with a roar, then fell next to me. I peered down, ready to see blood, to know this was the end. But sticking out of my chest was a large dart, pumping a drug into my veins.
Even worse than death was knowing your attacker wanted to keep you alive.
My world swayed and rolled, and dots encroached my peripheral as I slumped to the ground. My ears picked up the echo of footprints as I started to lose consciousness.
A face came over me. Sucking in fear, I stared up at the hazing details of him.
Kalaraja, the lord of death, smirked down at me.
“Ms. Kovacs.” The familiar nasally voice scratched at my ears. “Did you forget? I always get my man. And in this case, my woman too,” he said before shooting another dart into my stomach.
The sound of his cruel laugh followed me down into the pits of darkness.
Chapter 21
Bangs and cries echoed and boomed.
Pain throbbed through my bones, and the feeling of something choking me strangled my neck.
Body odor, urine, and the dank smell of earth clipped at wings of hope, understanding before my brain did where I was.
My lashes lifted, blurry and confused, to see the cold, hard ground under me. My vision took in the bars, the watchtower, the backdrop of thousands of cages filled with prisoners.
Sitting up, the beat of my heart picked up in wild flutters.
Věrhăza.
“Welcome home, Brexley. To your final one.” The voice made me want to throw up. Istvan stepped into view, his arms behind his back, strolling at a leisurely pace outside my cell. His face was bruised and cut, still showing signs of what I did to him in the lab, only clarifying what I already knew. He was still human. Istvan was waiting to take the formula, using everyone else as guinea pigs. He would not risk his own life until it was perfected. “I can say, of all the things I imagined your life would lead you to, what you would grow up to be? This was not it.” He lifted one arm to me.
Automatically, I peered down, a narrow trail of air squeezing down my esophagus. Around my neck was an electric collar. The uniform they had put me in was no longer gray.
I wore black.
The color of nothing.
To Istvan, the color was a stain on me, my scarlet letter. Even if he was wrong about what I actually was, it didn’t matter. This turned me into even more of a traitor to HDF soldiers. They would go out of their way to target me because they would feel tricked, as if I knowingly duped them with my evil glamour, pushing aside the fact that they’d known me since I was a baby and watched me grow up.
“Do you like it?” He nodded as I touched the collar. “It is very rare and hard to get, but I only wanted the best goblin metal for you.”