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He wanted to know exactly what he was up against in getting Keiko out of those front doors and into the hands of his team.
…
Keiko heard Mace, but her focus was on the screens. On the Freedom soldiers as they casually stepped over the dead bodies scattered across the terrace as though they were nothing more than debris in their paths. She was irrationally glad that the camera didn’t show Abigail’s body; she wasn’t sure she could have coped with that. But there were still so many lost lives that it was overwhelming to witness. She stilled, and her breathing became shallow as realization hit her.
She was standing in a room full of the bodies of people who, just minutes ago, were walking and talking and planning for their futures.
Just. Like. Abigail.
Before she could stop herself, her eyes searched for the dead. A man was slumped over a chair at the desk. Another lay at his feet. A third hung over the mezzanine rail, his arms dangling like some forgotten doll someone had discarded there. Two uniformed security team members lay sprawled on the floor, where Freedom had gunned them down. It was a death chamber. She was standing in a death chamber.
Her eyes flew to Mace. He stood, legs apart and arms folded, studying the screens—completely oblivious to the carnage around him. Her heartbeat accelerated. Her breathing became shallow and choppy. She wasn’t like Mace. This wasn’t her world. She wasn’t equipped to deal with this. Her eyes drifted back to the screens, where she could just make out the body of one of the dead scientists.
Abigail was still up there. She was lying lifeless, just one more piece of debris in a war that she would never have understood. Keiko’s eyes went back to the bodies in the room. No. Not bodies. Men who had families, friends, loved ones. People like her. People who’d been left behind because they’d been killed in such a pointless way. People who would have to deal with their deaths for years to come.
Just like she would with Abigail.
She pressed a hand to her stomach as it became hard to breathe. Her fingers tingled, and a strange, tight sensation constricted her throat. Death. Violence. Danger. It was all around her. Swallowing her. Taking her down with it. Into hell.
She took a step back. Ready to run. To flee—and never look back. The only thing that kept her there was Mace. Her eyes were glued to him, as though he were the only life raft in the storm that was swamping her.
Slowly she became aware of a new sensation. A warmth pooling around her bare feet. A stickiness under her toes. As though a part of her brain already knew what she would find, she didn’t want to look down. But she had to. Slowly, oh so slowly, her eyes made their way to her feet. And the closer they got to their target, the more her focus narrowed. Until all she could see was the blood oozing between her toes.
She was standing in a pool of someone else’s blood.
A strange rushing sound filled her ears. The world became unstable. As though the ground itself was roiling beneath her.
Blood.
Red. Sticky. Thick.
Congealed. The word sprang into her mind as though coming from far, far away.
The red blood oozed up between her toes to meet the red polish she’d used for her birthday. The polish she hadn’t been able to remove because she’d been held against her will in the hotel. The polish that now mocked her. Telling her she was frivolous. That she cared about shallow things when all around her people were dying. When Abigail had been dying. The world was being painted red with blood. By Freedom. By CommTECH.
Red. Red. Red. Red…
The word echoed through her body, growing, spreading until it had taken her over completely. There was nothing else. Only the red, red blood. In her mind, she saw it seep over her toes, her feet, her ankles. It was coming to get her, to swallow her whole. To take her down into the same hell as the body that should have contained it.
It was impossible to move. To run. To call for help. All she could do was stand there and watch as the blood consumed her alive.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Are you listening to me?” Mace said. “We don
’t have time to screw around. I need you to stick your magic fingernail into the panel and disable the system.”
His jaw clenched as he watched Enforcement surround the building. There may have been fewer of them now, but that didn’t mean they were any less trapped. No matter how much he stared at the surveillance footage, he couldn’t see an escape route. He needed to change the camera angles. And for that, he needed Keiko.
“Keiko, get your ass over here.”
With a frown, he turned to see what was holding her up. She’d better not be getting into stuff she shouldn’t. The woman needed a keeper. She caused problems wherever she went, poking her nose in all over the place, taking on people who were twice her size. She had no sense of self-preservation, she…
Fuck.
She was standing in a pool of blood. The body of a dead Freedom fighter lay beside her. Her eyes were glued to her feet, her bare feet, covered in someone else’s blood. She was frozen. Staring. Barely breathing. Trapped in the moment.
He covered the distance between them in the blink of an eye. He’d seen this before, on the battlefield. She was in shock. Her system overwhelmed by the horror she’d encountered.
