Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 138274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
For a split second, he closed his eyes. Lessers. He knew them by the white hair—except how in the hell had they found him? Not that it mattered.
“Get dressed,” he barked. “Right now.”
“What’s wrong? What’s happening?”
Even as she was asking the questions, Nalla was on her feet and going for her jeans—which was a testament to the fact that she’d been raised by a Brother. But there was no time to answer her. Jumping up as well, he yanked his leathers on, and went under the bed. As he pulled out a tray of the weapons he’d checked before, he was grateful that his paranoia about infiltration had taken him where it had.
And rank pissed off he’d been right.
“Take this.” He held the mattress gun out to her. “It’s fully loaded and the safety’s off. You need to go out my tunnel and dematerialize from my barn.”
At least there was only one flank of the enemy that his cameras picked up on—although fuck knew how long that was going to last.
“What kind of visitors?” she said, even though going by her hard tone, she knew.
But again, Nalla just accepted the weapon he gave her, grabbed her parka, and came with him, into the bathroom. Triggering a panel release, he flipped a light switch that illuminated a narrow crawl space that opened up to a passageway lined with steel mesh.
“This goes out to my barn,” he repeated as he kissed her quick. “Follow it, and dematerialize from there. Go.”
“Nate, I can help fight—”
“Not a chance. I can’t die, remember? I’ll be okay, but I need to know you’re safe. That’s the most important thing in the world to me. That’s all that matters.”
* * *
Nalla’s heart was pounding and she wanted to drag Nate with her into the escape tunnel. He was right, though. Between the two of them, he was vastly more likely to come out of some kind of conflict alive.
And yet if he fell into enemy hands? They could literally torture him… for centuries, his nightmare turning into reality with no chance of him waking up and being saved.
“Nate, you need to come with me. I have a bad feeling about this.”
How many other times had those words been spoken, she thought with a panic. Between two people right before the plan went wrong.
And death came knocking.
“The longer you wait here,” he said, “the closer they come. Go.”
As their eyes met, stark terror choked her, but there was no negotiating with him so she stepped into the tunnel.
“I love you,” she shouted as he shut the steel door on her.
She could barely hear his deep voice echo those three words before they were cut off.
For a split second, she was frozen by fear. Then she was like, fuck this, fuck them, fuck the war. She didn’t run. She was the daughter of a fucking Brother, her mate was going into danger, and she was going to stay and fight.
With quick efficiency, she ran a check of the gun, assessing its weight and sight, confirming its full magazine. Which of course was just as Nate told her it was.
Riding a wave of aggression, she reached for the latch.
It was locked. And there was no keypad. Not that she could have guessed a password for him.
“Shit.”
Pounding on the steel mesh didn’t get her anywhere, but like Nate was wasting time in his bathroom, staring at the hatch? Hell no. He was arming himself and about to go out and face the enemy. Alone.
Fine, she’d help him from the other end.
Shuffling along the cramped tunnel, bent over, breathing hard, fear sharpening her instincts and making the sounds of her boots and the rustle of her clothes seem super sharp and very loud, she just told herself she needed to get to the other side, and then she could engage the slayers.
Assuming Nate hadn’t lied to her and completely locked her in here for safety.
When she got to the far end—after what seemed like a week of pushing forward—there was a latching mechanism, and she swore she was going to punch him in the dick if the thing didn’t budge. Taking a deep breath, she—
—sprang the lever, and there was a vapor lock release.
“Thank fuck,” she muttered as she led with the weapon.
Emerging at a short stack set of stairs, she went up the narrow steps and waited at a wooden door at the top.
No sounds. No scents.
Taking two quick, deep breaths, she—
Threw open the panel, and had to blink as motion-activated lights came on. Then she focused and cleared what was in front of her, swinging the gun muzzle left and right.
The barn interior was not a barn space at all, but a neat-and-tidy suburban garage, with tools and equipment tacked up on the concrete walls, and some kind of hulking vehicle draped in a tarp in the center of everything.