56
Savannah
“Shit!” I snarled as the blast door crashed into the ground. I checked over my shoulder, then pounded on the steel hatch. “Jaxson!”
The only response was a dull beat from the other side.
I mashed the buttons on the control panel once again. No response. The red timer just kept counting down the seconds: 4:36 remaining.
Great.
I spun and searched the hallway. Should I wait for backup or pursue?
Dragan was long gone, but if I could catch him and stall him, Jaxson might be able to find another way through.
Go time.
The hallway curved off in either direction. I wasn’t familiar with the scent of Dragan’s new host, but I could tell that a werewolf who reeked of malice and sweat and toxic amounts of testosterone had gone to the right.
The Crusher, for sure.
Although I wanted to charge after him, I moved cautiously down the hall and pulled the shadows around me. What do you think the chances are that this is a trap, Wolfie?
Oh, a hundred percent, my wolf responded. Let’s go get him.
Dragan knew I was isolated. There wasn’t any reason for him to run from me except to lure me into an ambush.
I cautiously peered through a side door into an enormous weight room. I didn’t see any sign of Dragan, and his scent continued down the hall.
Hmm,my wolf said.
What? I asked as I pressed myself against the wall and started moving again.
On second thought, Dragan is inhabiting the body of a four-hundred-pound monster. Why would he need to ambush us? He could crush us with his left hand.
I paused as I reached the entrance to a stairwell. I cautiously cracked the door and peeked in. Empty, but I could smell that he’d gone that way.
It was like the stairwell we’d used to get to level eight. Flights of concrete steps zigzagged back and forth, leaving a small gap in the center rising to the top.
Fading footsteps echoed from above. He was moving up, fast.
If it’s not an ambush, why is he running? I asked.
Well, maybe he just doesn’t want to stick around for whatever is going to happen next,Wolfie said.
“Aw, shit.”
For one beautiful moment, I’d hoped that just maybe he’d been running from me. It had been a nice, empowering thought. But the asshole was running away before his damn ritual or the Wolf God or something else blew us all to kingdom come.
That probably meant we didn’t have much time to catch him and stop whatever was going to happen.
Throwing caution to the wind, I ran.
My boots propelled me upward with blinding speed. I took the stairs three at a time and used the railing to slingshot myself around corners.
Each level had a door, but I flew past them. The echo of footsteps and the scent of big bad wolf told me my quarry was still ahead.
But I was faster.
The levels raced by. For one brief second, I saw his shadow on the stairs ahead, and then a thunderous explosion shook the building. I tumbled and skidded to my knees.
My heart froze as a cascade of rubble poured down from above. I rolled out of the way, taking shelter against the wall as chunks of concrete rebounded off the stairs and a rain of debris filled the air.
There was a wild, metallic groan, and then an iron railing tumbled down into the dark.
When the noise abated, I pulled myself unsteadily to my feet in the cloud of dust. That was one hell of a blast.
I paused and listened to my thundering heart and the reverberating groans of the building. Once I was sure that the rain of destruction had ceased, I cautiously continued up the winding stairs until the consequences of the explosion came into view.
The blast had completely destroyed the top of the stairwell. All that was left of the last few flights of stairs were bent iron girders and broken concrete steps.
The sky shone through the gaping hole in the roof. Dark clouds spiraled overhead, but I could also discern a faintly shimmering dome—the magical forcefield above the prison. If it was still intact, Dragan wouldn’t be able to escape, but I had a sinking feeling he wasn’t actually running away.
Cautiously, I made my way up to the point where the stairs had crumbled into nothing. I craned my head to look up at the tangled mess of beams and rebar, and then down to the distant pile of rubble ten flights below at the bottom of the stairwell.
This is going to be just like climbing a tree. Except if I fall, I’m going to be a shish kebab on rusted rebar.
I leapt, grabbing hold of a protruding bit of metal, and then began hauling myself upward. Hand over hand, I climbed up the shattered stairwell until I came to the edge, where the roof had collapsed at an angle, but not all the way.
Huh. Monkey hands are actually more useful than paws from time to time, my wolf teased as I caught my breath.