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My sobs break free of their chains in a single breath. It whooshes from his chest, spilling out over his shoulder with shivers so violent I think I might break in half. But Kane’s grip is stronger, holding me together, keeping my severed pieces from scattering across my cage.
“I will show you every day that it’s real. You’re going to fall asleep in my arms tonight. And DaiSzek will sleep on your other side to keep you warm. And when you wake up with your head on my chest, I’m going to tell you how grateful I am to have you.” Kane leans away and glances down at my lips and back up to meet my eyes. “Skylenna, I—”
Movements across the screens, men filling the halls, dozens of them. I tense up and look back at him. My eyes darting chaotically from his eyes to the screen. Back and forth. As if seeing the reflection, he backs out of the cage. His hands wait patiently in the air for me to take them. Without protest, I hook my fingers around his wrists and let him guide me out of the tunnel that only leads to my demise.
He glances at the screen, examining the movements and the direction of the soldiers. His expression now calm, calculated, and simmering with violence. Hello, Dessin.
“The trap that they thought crushed me is where the soldiers will stop to investigate first. They’ll need to pry it open to search for my supposed body. That’s on the south wing. We can make our way out to the north, but we only have one minute and forty-eight seconds.” He studies the hallways for another moment like it’s a chessboard and he’s finding the ten moves to put him ahead.
“I’m ready,” I tell him, holding his hand between us. Even if this is in my head, it will always be better than the alternative.
He looks down at me from his peak of six feet, four inches and smiles, dazzling me with his white teeth. “I’ll lead.”
40. Bloodthirsty
The two Emerald Lake mountains near the asylum are where Demechnef relocated. We escape from a tunnel that leads into the forest.
Albatross was right, it certainly is a fortress.
He hops onto his motorcycle and signals for me to mimic his action. I nervously tug at the white medical gown I’m still wearing, smudged with blood around my neckline. I look back up as Dessin removes his brown leather jacket and passes it to me.
“We’ll get you changed when we’re safe in the Dark Wood.” He nods again for me to get on the bike. Sliding my right hand into the sleeve, I smell him everywhere. His sweet natural scent that is both soothing and intoxicating.
Hiking my leg over the bike and latching on to Dessin’s waist, I see a group of twenty soldiers come tumbling out of the tunnel. Conveniently, also with motorbikes. We are equally matched with speed as Dessin starts the engine and fishtails us out of the perimeter of the mountain/Demechnef fortress. But I can’t imagine that Dessin would come this far without a plan, without an effective escape route. Whatever it is, he’s hyperfocused and making only intentional decisions, weaving through trees, staying ahead of the mob only by a few yards.
“We can’t lead them back to where we’re going…” I shout into his ear, fighting the force of the wind. “So, what’s the plan?”
He glances over his shoulder, lips curling upward, not enough to make a smile, but enough to answer my question. “Are you still doubting me?”
Dessin accelerates the speed by thirty miles per hour and we’re flying through the forest like a wildfire devouring dead leaves and plants in a drought. The branches are cracking under the wheels, the healthy trees whizzing past us, while my hair dances behind me in the rush of strong winds… I lift my face from Dessin’s back. The rays of the sun leak through the speckled peepholes of the canopy of trees. They shower me in their warmth, welcoming me back to my home, to the blessings of Mother Nature, to the humming sounds of honeybees, and to the early morning taste of earthy air.
Something clinks against the back of the bike. I look back to find a crossbow pointed at us, with a fluffy red feather attached to the back of the arrow.
“It’s a tranquilizer. They don’t want to kill us. Just knock us out!” Dessin lifts the handles of the bike upward to jump us over an overgrown tree root. We hiccup in the air and come slamming back down to the ground without skipping a beat. One or two bikes don’t make the same move and are ejected from their seats, breaking bones as they are flung into the trees.
The next red-feathered arrow is shot through the air with perfect aim, blundering toward Dessin’s head, he seizes it by the stem with two fingers as if it were unmoving, sitting on a shelf like a book waiting to be snatched. He uses the same hand to launch it back to its home, soaring into the neck of the man to our left.
We can’t take them all out like this.
Is he going to steer us off a cliff into a body of water? Are we leading them into a trap? Is he going to pull over and fight them off one at a time? I wish I could take a dive into his mind and comb through his plans.
The ride starts to get bumpy as we drive over a passage of rocks, some small like pebbles, others jagged and the size of my head. This slows us down and allows the fifteen or so other riders to catch up. We’re bouncing up and down, jerking over the uneven obstacles. The ending of the rocky terrain is in sight, a flat dirt path ahead. I strap myself against his back, hugging my face to the muscles flexing over his shoulder blades, desperate not to be taken away from him again.
The other bikes succeed at closing in on us. A half circle of roaring engines moments away from causing us to wreck. Arrows are being shot from different directions, but Dessin is crafty with his shift of weight from one side to the other, driving in zigzags. I release a breath as we tumble over the last of the rocks, but the riders are still so close, and Dessin isn’t speeding up.
“Dessin!” I shriek. Why is he slowing down? “Go!”
He turns to give me a side view of his face, a flash of dominance, a flash of the alpha in his dark-mahogany eyes. They say, fear not, we’ve already won.
And just like that, a black shadow dives through the air from behind a sheath of trees. A pouncing beast with an unhinged jaw, showing off its white, sharp teeth. And those cinnamon eyes are in hunting mode, locking in on his prey, blazing with certain victory.
Something between a laugh and a scream comes out of my mouth.
DaiSzek makes a clean leap over our bike, wiping out three soldiers, knocking them off their motorcycles. Gasps and grunts of impact come from behind us. I regret turning around, regret the gory image of DaiSzek sinking his teeth in a soldier’s head, popping it like a balloon.
He’s merciless, fast, and unreasonably feral.
Dismemberment. Skinning. Scalping. An overwhelming amount of flesh and blood. It seems DaiSzek shares Dessin’s vengeful temper.
