I don’t want to waste bullets, but it’ll work in my favor if the guardians think there’s a whole army of hostiles out here. Darting in a semi-circle around the area where I lit the fires, I shoot five more times in quick succession, from spots farther apart than any one normal person could have traveled in that time.
Then the chamber clicks with a hollow sound. Empty.
I shove the pistol back in the purse in case we need it later once we can get more ammo, push the strap so the purse is pressed against my back again, and dash all the way around the compound to the pine I picked out earlier.
The gate stands open, but guardians are barging out through it—and I know without seeing it that at least a couple of them will hang back to stand guard. Trying to enter that way would send me straight into their midst.
But while they’re all busy with the chaos I’ve created by the east end of the compound, no one’s keeping watch over the southwest corner.
The tree comes into view up ahead. I sprint straight to it, flicking my claws from my fingertips, and leap at the trunk.
My arms wrap around it several feet above the ground, my fingers curling and claws digging in for a better hold. I brace my knees against the bark and scramble upward until I reach the branches. Then I start pushing off them to propel myself up faster.
As I near the top, the narrowing trunk sways with my weight. I swivel around it, take a split-second to confirm my distance from the fence, and then fling myself out into the air.
My braid whips out behind me. My back arches and legs splay to position myself in the perfect landing position.
I soar right over the barbed wire and electric cables and land with a soft thump in the grass far behind the aboveground structure.
A swift roll diffuses most of the impact of the landing. An instant later, I’m on my feet again and racing toward the building.
When I near the concrete wall, I slow to a prowl. Sticking close to the building, I slink along it and peer around the corner toward the lone entrance and the gate beyond it.
As I expected, two guardians have stationed themselves on either side of the gate, which is now closed while various other armored figures rush around beyond the fence near the growing blaze. As I hoped, even the two by the gate have their attention fixed on the forest rather than on the building behind them.
They think the threat is still out there. Suckers.
The door to the building stands half open, another guardian in the typical helmet and vest poised there as if waiting to see if her help will be needed too. I’m going to have to go through her—and fast enough to cut her off before she can sound a warning.
Her and anyone else who might be in the hall behind her.
My muscles coil. My jaw clenches. I don’t have time to simply knock her out and truss her up for safekeeping like I did during our first escape.
She isn’t a person. She’s an obstacle between me and the men I need to set free.
She’s one of the people who’ve treateduslike objects to be tested and tormented for as long as any of us can remember. Why should I see her as more than an object herself?
I wait until her head turns away from me, tracking the continuing shouts from that end of the compound. Then I lunge.
I slam into her at an angle to send both of us tumbling into the hall, the door thudding shut in our wake. One clawed hand clamps over the start of a scream shooting from her mouth; the other slashes through her throat, hard enough to sever the artery.
Blood spurts up. Her body goes limp.
No one races to her rescue. I grasp at the first door within reach and shove the corpse into what looks like an equipment closet, swiveling her as I go so that her pants wipe away the worst of the blood on the floor.
Nothing to signal an intrusion to any other guardians who run by.
Now I’m alone in the hall. An alarm is shrieking, warning lights flashing red down the edge of the ceiling.
I can’t let the clamor shake my focus. The control room has to be around here somewhere, most likely on this floor. They’d still keep it as far from the holding cells and the training rooms as possible, wouldn’t they?
I lope down the short hallway, setting my feet as quietly as I can. One door opens to a meeting room with a boardroom-style table and chairs.
The next one gives me my jackpot.
Rows of monitors loom over consoles set up all around the square space. Warning messages blink on several of the screens.
To my surprise, the room is empty. Did I really freak out the guardians so much that they didn’t leave anyone behind to monitor the facility from inside?