"Shoot her, shoot her," Yohan screamed. "She's here somewhere. Just bloody shoot."
Other men were coming into the room now, preventing the first man from simply firing at random. I pivoted on my wounded leg, hissing in pain as I hit the nearest guard in the chest, pushing him backward into another. They both went sprawling.
I shifted position, this time moving as silently as I could, and came up behind the door. With the benefit of infrared, I could see two more men entering. They were the last of the reinforcements - at least for the moment.
I gripped the door handle, waiting until they were closer, then slammed the door closed hard, sending them reeling backward. Then I was diving away as the sound of several gunshots roared, echoing in my ears.
I hit the ground and rolled to my feet, only to go down on one knee as my leg gave way yet again. I gritted my teeth against the scream rolling up my throat, my fists clenched, my nails digging into the heel of my hand in an effort to deflect the pain. It was tempting to shift shape and begin the healing process, but shifting wasn't instantaneous, nor was it discreet. And I wasn't entirely sure the shadows would cover the change.
I scrambled away and heard the footsteps behind me. I'd taken two men out, but there were still two guards left in the room and two men out of it. Time to get serious.
I pushed to my feet, spun, and lashed out with a still-clenched fist at the nearest man. He went down like a ton of bricks. I dove forward, grabbed his gun, and twisted, firing at the other man. He, too, went down.
"If you want to live," I shouted to the two remaining men in the hall, "I suggest you get the fuck away from this place."
There was a moment's silence, then the sound of footsteps retreating. Wise men.
I rose, hobbled over to the nearest window, and hit the nearby button. The curtains swept open, tearing the shadows from my side and revealing the contents of the room in all its grisly glory. Not just the bloody remains of the men I'd downed or killed, but the remains on the walls.
Jorn and Yohan's trophies.
I'd been expecting to see the three missing Australians, as well as the seventeen from the UK, but there were more here than that. Dozens more. All mounted on wood like animal trophies of old. All posed smiling and happy. All so lifelike, as if at any moment they would tear themselves free and step from the wall, whole in body and soul.
And all with a hint of terror and fear lingering in their glassy eyes, as if their souls still abided nearby, waiting for help that never came.
My stomach roiled, and it was all I could do not to throw up. I'd seen some pretty damn gruesome things in my time, but somehow, this seemed far worse than anything else. These two had been taking their revenge for their father's death for years and years. And in the process, had killed well over fifty women.
I turned and looked at Yohan, I don't know what he saw in my eyes, but his face twisted in fear and he pushed backward with his legs, as if trying to get away from me. He slid on the flooring, but not very far.
"I'm human. I demand my time in court," he screamed, spittle spraying from his lips. "You can't shoot me."
"That would work if I actually cared. But I don't."
I raised the gun and shot him, splattering his brains out the back of his head and across the floor.
It was easy. So easy.
Seemed I was more of a guardian - more like my brother - than I'd ever wanted to believe.
And right now, looking at their trophies on the wall, I didn't damn well care.
I shifted shape to start healing my wounds, then threw the gun on Yohan's remains and walked out of the room to find Rhoan before Jorn could. 9;d only been a pup when Blake had thrown me off the cliff. But even now, I could recall those moments clearly, simply because the world around me had suddenly seemed to slow. Oh, the wind had battered me full force and the ground had rushed toward me, filling my vision, filling my world, forever embedding itself into the worst of my nightmares. It was just time itself that crawled. The falling seemed to go on and on and on. The ground rushed toward me and yet never seemed to get closer. I'd screamed, I'd quaked, I'd fought to grab something, anything, to stop my fall or to at least break it. To no avail.
But never once in any of those long minutes had my life flashed before my eyes.
Maybe it was because I'd been so young, had done so little.
I was older now.
And as I fell toward the sparkling blue of the ocean and the jagged rocks that lined the cliffs base, images of my past reeled drunkenly before my eyes - the flashes almost too fast for me to even see them. Mostly they were memories of good times. With Rhoan, with other people I'd cared about, and boyfriends of old. And there was Quinn, who could have been something more had he only played it fair.
But with all those memories came something else. Something deeper. Stronger.
Regret.
For all the things I hadn't done, for all the steps I hadn't taken.
And the biggest of those regrets was Kellen.