The guardians thought they could prevent us from staging another rebellion. But they haven’t blanked us out completely. No doubt they’d have to send us into a total stupor for that, and they want us alert enough to jump through their hoops and carry out their orders.
It’s taken longer to pull a scheme together than it would have otherwise, but we’ve made the most of the diminished skills we still have.
Nothing else reaches my ears except the continuing screech of the alarm. The emptiness expands inside me again, tugging at me to give up, to lie down on the bed, to return to the void.
But I owe my brother. I owe it to him to make every last person who hurt him pay.
What else have I held on this long for?
So I stay there, the metal a firm pressure against my forehead and fingertips, energy twining through my veins.
And then I hear it: a muffled holler and the thudding of more footsteps.
The slightest smile curves my lips. I push my hands harder against the door, let the sounds form a picture of the man running down the hall, and hurl all my concentrated will at the figure outside.
My nerves lurch as my talent slams home. I canfeelhim now, caught in my power like a fly stuck in a spider’s web.
He flails against it, one foot skidding on the tiled floor, his head thrashing from side to side. But all I need is one finger.
At my full strength, this would be easy. As it is, sweat beads on my forehead and trickles down the back of my neck with the effort of yanking him over to my door.
My jaw clamps so tight my teeth ache. Deeper twinges run through my shoulders and down my spine.
The guardian bangs against the other side of the door. My forehead furrows as I focus on keeping his body there while I drag his hand toward the keypad of the lock.
The mechanisms inside it have some kind of safeguard I haven’t been able to override with my telekinetic ability, at least at my current dulled state. No more keycards—they were too easily stolen. So we had to steal the codes instead.
I’ve seen the outside of my door a thousand times. I fix the image of the keypad in my mind and jab the guardian’s index finger at the sequence of six numbers Zian was able to watch them tap in through the wall of his own cell down the hall.
They kept us farther apart this time, but not quite far enough.
4-8-9-1-3-4. The lock beeps, and the sequence of multiple deadbolts rasps over.
My muscles tremble with the effort it’s taking to maintain my hold. I yank the man to the side, heave open my door to the full blare of the alarm and flashing red lights, and lunge at him.
It takes all of a single heartbeat to slap my hands against the guardian’s chin and the back of his skull beneath his stupid metal helmet. One more beat to wrench his head to the side hard enough to snap his neck.
For all the training we’ve done, all the tests of our strength and speed, all the practice with weapons and targets, I’ve never actually killed someone before. Animals, yes, when the guardians forced me, but never a human being.
For a second, staring down at him in the pulsing crimson light, I brace myself for a surge of emotion—any emotion.
The man crumples on the floor with a clank of his helmet, and I feel nothing but a muted sense of satisfaction. The job is done. He got what he deserved.
I don’t think Griffin would approve of that reaction either, but I’m the one here, so we’re doing things my way.
I’m not really done, though. I step away from the guardian and race down the hall to the room with Zian’s number.
Seeing his own code was easy, but he didn’t have any way of entering it. I poke the buttons with the other sequence of numerals he gave me.
He’s waiting, no doubt as revved up by the alarm as I was. The second the lock disengages, I jerk myself to the side, which is a good thing, because the next instant Zee’s brawny frame is barreling past it.
He skids to a halt on the tiles outside, looming over me as his chest heaves with panted breaths. Normally he’s only a few inches taller than my six foot even, but his partial shift has given him more on top of that, his muscles bulging wider.
Tufts of fur ripple across his neck and shoulders, the same black as the short-cropped hair on his head but scruffier. Tips of fangs protrude over his lower lip.
He whirls around with a growl, scanning the hall. Tension flexes through his limbs. But when he whips his gaze back to me, a tremor runs through his body.
He contracts just slightly into the still intimidating but more human guy I grew up with, the fur and fangs vanishing.