Page 13 of Psycho Pack

Honeysuckle and heaven.

Ivy.

"They were here," I say, following the trail. "Recently."

"Never thought I'd say this," Whiskey mutters, adjusting Valek's limp form, "but thank fuck he's got her."

More guards round the corner ahead. Six of them, weapons raised. I don't hesitate. I launch myself at them before they can fire. My fist connects with the first guard's face. Cartilage gives. Blood sprays. I use his body as a shield as his friends open fire.

Plague appears like a ghost behind them. Two drop, clutching their throats. Whiskey charges through, using Valek as a makeshift battering ram. The unconscious alpha's head cracks against one guard's skull. Both go down.

I grab a rifle off one of the corpses now that we're in a wide open area. "Thanks for the gun," I say flatly to its previous owner. He won't be needing this where he's headed.

"We need to move," Plague says, wiping his blade clean. "This place is coming down around us."

He's right. The ceiling groans ominously. Another tremor rocks the foundation. Pipes burst overhead, showering us with frigid water.

"Which way?" Whiskey asks, swiping blood off his mouth as he shifts Valek's weight on his shoulder. "Trail splits here."

I scan the carnage. Two paths of destruction lead away from the cage. One toward what looks like a lab. The other...

A roar shakes the walls. Not Wraith's. Deeper, more hollow. It echoes down the darker corridor, the sound amplified by the underground tunnels.

"The fuck was that?" Whiskey's grip tightens on Valek.

"Nothing good," Plague mutters.

I step toward the sound. The hallway ahead is barely lit, emergency lights casting everything in blood-red shadows. Water pools on the floor, reflecting the strobing lights like a mirror to hell.

Another roar.

Closer.

The very air vibrates with its force.

Then the heavy clank of iron.

Chains dragging over concrete and metal.

A shape emerges from the darkness. Eight, maybe ten feet of muscle and scar tissue. An iron mask with glowing blue eyes. A mechanical arm ending in foot-long talons. Metal rods jut from its back like spears. ID number 3686 painted on its broad chest.

It's the monster from the cell across from Ivy's.

And now that it's loose, it lookswaymore pissed off.

It stands at the end of the hall, staring at us. Steam rises from its massive frame in the cold air. Blood drips from its claws, each drop echoing in the sudden silence.

"Ideas?" Whiskey grits out.

The monster takes a thunderous step forward. Its mechanical arm whirs and clicks. Those glowing eyes never leave us.

Then it throws back its head and roars again. The sound hits like a physical force, driving us back a step. Water ripples across the floor. Dust falls from the ceiling.

I grip my new rifle tighter as I stare death in the face.

"We fight like hell."

Chapter

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