Now he was spitting out something. Something that tasted of fresh, uncooked meat.
As his head went down once more, he had a passing thought that he needed to stop what he was doing. He had a feeling that he had removed at least a portion of the male’s larynx. No more vocalization was going to occur, so the purpose of silencing the guard had been served, and the next imperative was to get Nyx back to the hidden pool.
Except he couldn’t cease and desist. The inner core of him was activated to the point of breaking free, a monster called out from the cave of his self-control, and once unleashed, it refused any and all calls to heel.
He continued to bite, and was certain he swallowed some of the anatomy. And he should have cared about the visuals he was subjecting Nyx to—moreover, he should have cared about the increased risk to her life as he savaged his victim. But all of those rational, reasonable thoughts were submerged beneath the tidal wave of his aggression—
His name was being called, repeatedly. He was fairly certain of this. However, he heard the syllables as if they were far, far off.
And then someone touched him.
The Jackal snapped at the hand. Then returned to his prey—
All at once, the guard was taken from him, dragged off by some unknown, unseen force.
No, that was wrong. He was the one removed, his vision swinging up and around as he was lifted bodily from the guard. The next thing he knew, he was thrown face-first into the tunnel wall and pinned in place.
He fought against the hold, snapping with his teeth, thrashing his legs and arms, bucking his hips.
He only stilled when he heard a low, threatening voice in his ear.
“He’s dead. There is no more for you to do to him.”
The Jackal stopped fighting against his captor. “Apex?”
It was bizarre how, in times of acute crisis, your brain could kick something random over your transom of awareness.
As Jack had viscerally destroyed the front of a guard’s throat and most of the male’s face, Nyx’s brain decided to take her back to one year before Janelle was taken away to prison. There had been a horrible, howling ruckus in the woods outside the farmhouse. She and her grandfather had gone to see what it was, while Posie had put herself in the basement with a blanket over her head. Janelle had been out of the house. She’d always been out of the house.
Both Nyx and her grandfather had been armed, a pair of shotguns up on their shoulders. The concern had been something attacking one of the goats in the pen.
But it hadn’t been coyotes.
Two massive timber wolves had been going at it, the animals up on their hind legs, teeth gnashing, claws slashing. Their powerful bodies had seemed so large, too large, but then savagery had a way of increasing mass. Both had been bleeding from various wounds, though the black and brown and gray fur had masked the specifics of the injuries.
The pair had been so locked into their aggression that the presence of a pair of vampires hadn’t registered. Not until her grandfather discharged his shotgun into the moonlight did the four-legged combatants separate and scatter.
Jack had had the same degree of savagery just now. And if that killer, Apex, hadn’t come and pried him off the guard? He’d be at it still.
And now, they had a new problem, didn’t they. With shaking hands, she kicked the empty clip out of her gun, and brought her backpack around under the loose tunic, grabbing a fully loaded replacement and slamming it into place with the heel of her palm.
Her eyes went back to the guard.
His boots were twitching, but not because the male was going to stand up anytime soon. Apex, that killer, was right—and hey, he would know about death, right?
Oh . . . dear God . . . that face. Not that there was much of it left. Blood glistened and dripped free of the anatomy, flashes of white bone showing through the meat. The tongue was clicking—or maybe it was the teeth—and that jaw was working up and down, as if some part of the guard’s consciousness was still sending signals to call for help.
Snapping out of it, Nyx pointed her gun at Apex’s shaved head. “Let him go.”
That head—or that skull, was more like it—slowly moved in her direction. The eyes that stared back at her were dead, no animation or character behind the black pits as the male focused on her.
“Shoot if you’re going to,” he said with boredom. As he did not release Jack.
“Let him go.”
“Where are my hands, female.”
It was then that she realized he had already dropped his hold. “Step back then. If you’re not going to hurt him, step the fuck back.”
“If I wanted to kill him,” Apex drawled, “I’d have done so a decade ago. You’re late to this party, female.”
“Step back.”
Apex’s upper lip twitched, and she had a thought that she was going to need to watch her back after this. But instead of snapping his fangs at her, he smiled in an evil way, revealing two solid gold canines.
Jack solved the issue by sliding out from between the wall and the other male. Wiping his bloody mouth on his sleeve, he did not meet her stare. His loose, dark clothes were stained and out of joint, the tunic twisted around, not that he appeared to notice. Not that it mattered.
“We need to get rid of these bodies, but there’s no time,” he said hoarsely.
“I’ll take care of them. Go. Now.”
Jack glanced at the other prisoner. “Are we even, then.”
“Yes.” Apex nodded toward the tunnel. “Go. There will be more coming.”
The killer didn’t have to ask twice. Nyx was so ready to leave all of this behind. Intent on getting to Jack, she went to step over the bloody, dead guard—
As she transferred her weight, the dead body came to life. With a rasp and a gasp, wild, white-rimmed eyes flared, and the male reached for her ankle. The grab was strong enough to throw her off balance, and as she went into a free fall, the guard brought up a gun from out of nowhere.
Pointing the muzzle directly at her, he pulled the trigger—
Jack lunged across the distance as the gun went off, except he was too late—and so were Nyx’s reflexes. Before she could shift in midair, the bullet ripped into her with a blaze of pain, but she didn’t have time to track where the entrance was or if there was an exit. She landed hard, half on the guard, half on the floor, the side of her face taking some of the impact.
She was stunned as she lay where she landed, and when there was a clunk! sound by her head, she realized that her grandfather’s gun had slipped out of her hand.
Shit, she thought as she grabbed the weapon again.
“Nyx!”
Jack’s eyes entered her vision as he knelt down. His bloodstained face was pale as snow, his pupils dilated, his expression of horror the kind of thing that made her think about old-school Friday the 13th movies. Which made no damned sense. Then again, hello, shock.
“I’m shoot.” She closed her eyes in frustration. “Shot. I’m shot.”
“Your shoulder. I know.”
“Not my chest then?”
Had there been one bullet? Or two? Why wasn’t she in pain?
Beneath her, the guard started moving again, and a sudden jolt of adrenaline gave her a burst of strength. Shoving Jack back, she put the muzzle of her gun into the oozing open wound of that face—
And pulled the motherfucking trigger.
She wasn’t even horrified as the body jumped under her, the extremities bouncing on the floor, a horrible gurgle rising up as the popping sound disseminated.
Where had she gone, she thought as she lifted her eyes to Jack.
He was staring back at her with a remote expression, and meanwhile, Apex loomed over them both, not a threat so much as a condemnation of her and her actions. Sometime between her entering that crypt and finding her way down here into the prison, a part of her had gotten lost. Or perhaps been ruined.
And she knew it wasn’t coming back.
Apex laughed dryly. “Nice shot. Then again, point-blank improves accuracy.”
“Shut up,” Jack snapped.
Putting her hand out to him, he read her mind. He helped her up onto her feet, and as she steadied herself on his arm, he looked her over as if searching for arterial bleeds. With uncharacteristic deference, she waited for his conclusion even though it was her body and he wasn’t a physician. Then again, she felt like she couldn’t trust her read on anything.
“We’ve got to move fast,” he said.
Before she could start running again, he bent down and scooped her into his arms.
“No arguments,” he barked. “You need to shoot if we get into trouble. Let my legs do the work for the both of us.”
Just before they took off, Apex smiled again, flashing those gold fangs. “Quite a honeymoon you two are enjoying.”
“Fuck off, Apex,” Jack said over his shoulder as he took off at a jog.
All the Jackal could smell was Nyx’s blood. All he could feel was the warm flush of it soaking through the clothes she had on and the sleeve of his prison tunic as he carried her. All he knew was the distance he had to cover if he was going to get her to safety.
Make that relative safety.
He ran as fast as he could without bouncing her around too much, but going by the way she grunted and stiffened in his arms, he knew he was hurting her. She wasn’t lowering that gun, though. As he backtracked through the Command’s compound, she had that muzzle up and ready, and she was alert, leaning into the corners he took and staying steady on the straightaways he bolted down.
Damn it, he’d lost the weapon she’d given him when he’d gone after that guard. There had been no time to look for it, though. At least she had more in her backpack, going by the metallic shifting it always made.
When they came up to the prison cell with the closed mesh panels, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing inside—
Nyx’s shout brought him back to attention.
Shit, he thought as he skidded to a halt. Four guards were lined up in front of them, a uniformed wall of thou-shall-not-pass with plenty of gunmetal in their hands.
The Jackal considered a turn-and-bolt, but there was nowhere to go. Worse, the Command would be returning to these quarters soon, either because the review of the work area was over, or, more likely, because an alarm had been sounded. More backups for these guards were also surely on the way, and Nyx did not have the strength for another protracted battle.