Page 12 of Psycho Pack

A guard rushes me with a shock baton. I catch his wrist, breaking it with a sharp twist. As he screams, I drive my knee into his gut, doubling him over. My elbow comes down on the back of his neck with a satisfying crunch. I use the same baton to cave in another guard's head, the stench of seared flesh hitting me in the face.

"Behind you!" Whiskey shouts.

I duck as a burst of gunfire tears through the space where my head was. Rolling forward, I come up inside the shooter's reach. My hands lock around his head and I snap his neck in one fluid motion.

The hallway falls silent except for our heavy breathing and the dying gurgles of the last few guards. Blood drips from my knuckles, pooling on the floor. I flex my fingers, feeling the ache of split skin.

"Everyone good?" I ask, scanning my brothers for serious injuries.

Whiskey grunts, wiping blood from a cut above his eye. "Just scratches."

Plague nods, already moving to retrieve Valek's limp form. Fresh blood stains his stolen coat, none of it his own.

"We're done," a voice crackles over a fallen guard's radio. "Asset 0663 breached containment and destroyed... everything. Proceeding with evacuation protocol."

My heart pounds harder. Wraith's experiment number.

He's alive.

Another explosion rocks the facility, stronger than before. Cracks spider through the walls, and chunks of ceiling rain down around us. The whole building groans like it's being torn in half.

"Move," I bark, shoving them toward the stairwell. "Now!"

Whiskey tosses Valek back over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes as we sprint down the stairs, taking them three at a time. The air grows colder, damper as we descend. Emergency lights flash red, painting everything in a hellish glow. The sound of fighting echoes up from below, punctuated by inhuman roars that shake dust from the walls.

Wraith is down there somewhere.

And where my brother is, Ivy will be, too.

She has to be.

The stairwell opens into another corridor, this one partially collapsed. Water sprays from broken pipes, turning the floor into a treacherous mess of blood and debris. The walls are scarred with massive gouges, like something huge and powerful tore through here.

Something with fucking claws.

More guards block our path, forming a firing line. But these ones look terrified, their hands shaking on their weapons.

"Last chance," their leader calls out, voice cracking. "Turn back now!"

I answer with a roar, charging straight at them. Bullets zip past as I close the distance. One catches me in the shoulder, but I barely feel it. My blood sings with battle rage as I crash into their line.

Bodies fly as I tear through them. Bones snap under my fists. Blood sprays across my face, hot and copper-sweet. Behind me, Whiskey and Plague join the slaughter, our movements synchronized by years of fighting together.

A guard manages to get his rifle up. I grab the barrel, shoving it aside as his shot goes wide. Yanking him forward, I slam my forehead into his nose. As he staggers back, I wrench the rifle from his hands and cave in his skull with the stock.

More guards pour in from side passages, but they're disorganized, panicked. We cut through them like a scythe through wheat. Whiskey throws one guard into a group of others, bowling them over. Plague's blades flash in the strobing emergency lights, each stroke an artist's brush on canvas.

The last guard turns to run. I catch him by the back of his uniform and slam him face-first into the wall. He slides down, leaving a smear of red.

"Clear!" Whiskey calls out, his chest heaving.

We move into the basement level as a unit. Looks like a damn war zone down here. Walls torn open like paper. Support beams twisted into modern art. Chunks of concrete and rebar litter the floor. Water sprays from broken pipes, mixing with blood in pink rivers that flow toward the drains.

And there, against one wall, a mangled cage. Steel bars thick as my arm bent outward like flower petals. The floor around it is stained dark.

"Holy shit," Whiskey breathes. "Bro doesn't fuck around."

Then her familiar scent hits me, a balm to my frayed nerves.

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