Ready.
The guards had made their first mistake by entering the cell together.Their second by assuming she and Conall were still too drugged to function fully.Their third by not accounting for what two desperate shifters could do in close quarters.
Nadine moved first.Her injured leg screamed in protest, but years of training overrode the pain.She drove her elbow into the lead guard’s solar plexus, stealing his breath, then pivoted to grab his weapon as he doubled over.
Conall flowed into motion beside her like they’d choreographed this dance a thousand times.Which they hadn’t, of course.Which made the seamless coordination between them…unsettling.
He took the second guard with brutal efficiency—a precise strike to the throat followed by a knee to the ribs that sent the man crashing into the nearest concrete wall.
The third guard reached for his radio.She put him down before he could make a sound, the stolen weapon’s weight familiar in her hands despite everything.
Three guards.Fifteen seconds.Over.
Efficient,Conall murmured, breathing only slightly elevated.
There was approval in his voice that made something warm unfurl in her chest before she ruthlessly shoved it down.
Don’t read into it.She checked the guards’ weapons and equipment.Standard tactical gear, but the uniforms were unmarked.Private contractors, like she’d thought.This doesn’t make us partners.
Of course not.But there was something in his tone—amusement?Understanding?—that made her want to look at him.
She didn’t.
The corridor beyond their cell stretched in both directions, lit by harsh fluorescent strips that flickered intermittently.
Which way?Conall asked quietly.
She closed her eyes, working on extending her senses.There was something off about this place.The scents were wrong—too much dust, not enough human activity.The air tasted stale, recycled.Like this place had been mothballed for years and only recently activated.Not actively used but maintained just enough to function when needed.
Almost abandoned.
Left,she decided, following the faint current of fresher air that might lead to an exit.And stay quiet.Sound carries in places like this.
They moved through the corridors like ghosts, Conall matching her pace despite her slight limp.The mate bond hovered between them, a constant awareness she kept trying to ignore.It whispered things she didn’t want to hear:Safe.Together.Right.
Wrong.Everything about this was wrong.
But his presence at her back felt steady.Protective.
Like he’d put himself between her and danger without thinking about it.
Stop, she ordered herself.He might be playing a long game.Earning your trust so you’ll let your guard down.
Except he’d already had chances to hurt her.In the ravine.In the cell.
Hell, he could have left her for those operatives instead of trying to warn her to run.
The contradiction gnawed at her as they navigated the maze of corridors.Empty rooms lined either side—offices, storage areas, what might have been laboratories once.All coated in a fine layer of dust that spoke of disuse.
This place hasn’t been active in years,Conall said, his voice barely a whisper.
She nodded, noting the same details.Outdated equipment.Faded safety notices.The kind of institutional decay that took time to accumulate.They’re using it as a temporary holding facility.The question is, for what?
Or for whom,he added grimly.
They found the first body in what used to be a break room.
Human.Male.He’d been dead for hours, not days, from a single gunshot to the back of the head, execution style.The blood hadn’t even dried completely.
