Istvan’s car lurched forward, the nectar about to disappear from my grasp.
“Help me up!” Tad groaned as I got him to his feet, his mouth already moving, a low chant closing his eyes.
“Simon!” I yelled as someone in the passenger seat leaned back, grabbed the door, slamming it closed. The door locked. “No!” I yanked at the handle as the armored truck tore away.
“Simon!” Warwick bellowed, heartache and terror weaving through his gruff cry, his feet tearing off after the vehicle, jumping onto the back, riding with the caravan like a stowaway.
I felt my chest splinter as the truck drove through the exit. The magic around the gate was spelled to keep us prisoners inside. It recognized Warwick as a fugitive, zapping an electrical current through his body. Warwick jerked and convulsed as voltage went through him, pitching him back onto the cement with a thump.
“Warwick!” I ran for him. The commotion from the inmates streaming in, attacking the guards left to fight, was muted in the background. Dropping to my knees, my hands touched his face, sliding down to his unmoving chest.
No heartbeat.
No breath.
No life.
Chapter 26
“Warwick!” I slammed my hands down onto his chest, feeling heat simmer inside me, a flame catching on fire. “Don’t you dare leave me. Whatever it takes.”
Letting myself dive into him, I shoved against the goblin metal trying to contain me, sweat dripping down my forehead as it battled and pushed back, feeling the murmur of my powers whispering in my ears, bubbling up from the depth, telling me something I couldn’t quite make out.
Thunder purred around me, a crack of lightning, wind brushing my cheek in a kiss.
“I forbid you to die, asshole.” Slipping under his skin, I pushed even deeper, wrapping around his heart while I pumped on his chest.
Warwick seized forward, gasping in breath, his eyes moving around until they landed on mine. His nose flared, taking another deep inhale, swallowing. His hand cupped my face, pulling my forehead to his, his voice raking through the gravel and dirt.
“Sotet démonom.”
A gasp of relief huffed from my lips against his, my lids closing briefly. “Don’t ever fucking do something so stupid again.”
“What’s the fun in that?” He tried for humor, but his features were streaked with worry as he sat up. “Simon.”
“We’ll get him.” I stood, yanking him with me.
Magic hissed and sparked at the gate as if it was lashing out, twisting me to it. I could feel the energy in the spell fighting and lashing back. My neck craned around to see Tad walking up to the gate. Magic emitted from him like thousands of glowing webs. Eyes closed, muttering, his body weaved, barely staying up. His forehead creased with pain and determination as if he were in a battle himself. Just because he put them in place didn’t mean they were easy to pull down. He probably had to use immense energy to do both. And I was understanding more and more that magic had a life of its own, a true give and take.
Warwick and I rushed around him, making sure he stayed protected as he worked, shooting at any soldier who got close.
The fight in the factory grew louder. Gunshots and screams rang out as more and more inmates funneled into the room, though the HDF guards were fully loaded with weapons and fae-like strength, keeping the odds still in their favor.
Soon, the feral-fae would follow the commotion.
The room spun with chaos, spiking fear and adrenaline throughout the space. You could taste it on your tongue like a bitter pill and smell a pungent odor. It was a living, breathing entity. Anxiety banged my heart against my ribs, as with every second, Istvan got farther away from us.
Tad wobbled, his face straining as he struggled to get each word out, sweat beading down his face, his concentration entirely on his counter spell.
Letting out a cry, he spit out words. A loud crack popped the air, blowing back at us, the force slamming Warwick and me to the ground. Tad took the brunt, and a strangled bellow came from him as magic swept over him. Then it dissipated, leaving only threads of electricity humming in the air. His body crumpled to the ground.
“Tad!” I crawled to him.
Breathing heavily, he stared at me, his face pale. “I’ll be fine. Go, my girl. Don’t let him get away. Get the boy.”
“Come on!” Warwick grabbed my arm, yanking me up as he was already racing for the gate. Grabbing the reinforced metal, his muscles flexed and strained, a guttural roar heaving from his chest as he pulled on it. The metal shredded and pitched as he forced it open, a grunt scraping up his throat and tearing more crevasse into his vocal cords.
Snap!
The hinges on the gate broke, the gate falling open. Yells and even more gunfire roared up in both cheers and protests behind us. Gunfire pinged off the walls at our heads as we ran in, our feet moving us to safety. For now. I knew many would follow behind us. Prisoners and guards.
Fire bulbs lit every dozen yards, giving us enough to see where we were going. The tunnel steadily inclined toward the surface; the rumble of vehicles could still be felt under our feet.
We weren’t too late.
“Hurr—！”
BOOOM!
The tunnel quaked with rage, swallowing Warwick’s sentence. Earth heaved under our feet, tearing down the ceiling on us.
“Kovacs!” he screamed, his physique crashing into mine, taking us both to the ground. His warm, massive frame covered mine as chunks rained down, tucking us up against the wall. He shielded me as the heavy pieces lightened into a patter.
Coughing and hacking, we slowly lifted our heads, seeing the destruction before us. A lot of the ceiling had collapsed.
A person on foot could still pass through, but cars wouldn’t be getting in or out anytime soon. And if they were in the tunnel, they probably would have been crushed, or at least stopped.
“Simon,” Warwick whispered his name, the same thought coming to him.
We were both back up, panic pushing us past feeling any pain from the falling rocks, bruising and cutting at our skin. Scaling over boulders, mounds of dirt, and cement, we treated the tunnel as an obstacle course race. One we had to win.
Up ahead, natural light spilled into the darkness, growing brighter the closer we got, permitting my eyes to make out more shapes.
“Warwick…” I gulped, pointing about a hundred yards ahead of us. Brake lights glowed through the wreckage. The armored cars withstood the destruction but were buried under the cave-in, trapping them.
Sneaking up, our guns primed, I noticed a few car doors left open. My pulse thumped against my neck as Warwick and I checked each car, finding them empty, the strum of disappointment playing in my stomach, terrified they had gotten out and were past catching now.
“Fuck!” Warwick hit the final car we checked, anger at his own failure to protect Simon.
Pops of gunfire streamed into the tunnel from outside, prompting us to look at each other, hope filling up the air between us like a balloon. Our legs bolted forward, scaling the final stretch of rubble blocking our way.
The sun was lowering on the mountain, splashing the sky with deep blues and purples, the tips of the forest around the Elizabeth Lookout Tower painted in oranges, reds, and browns. It was only a split second, breathing in the fresh, crisp air, piercing my lungs with a delicious stab. Most people didn’t appreciate the simple things, the gifts of true freedom. The feel of the cold air snapping at your exposed skin, filling you with vivacity. The sight of nature thrumming with life, the rich colors of the sunsets, birds chirping in the sky.