Page 56 of Ruin

Close now, he fired off another shot and unsheathed a knife with his free hand. He threw it with a flick of his wrist, burying it in a guard’s throat. The male gurgled, clutching at his neck as he went down.

Ruin ducked under a swing from another, driving his fist into the human’s solar plexus. As the man doubled over, gasping, Ruin grabbed his head and twisted sharply. The crack of a broken neck was lost in the chaos of battle.

A flash of movement caught his eye.

Spinning, he narrowly avoided a vibroblade aimed at his gut. The merc wielding it snarled and pressed forward with a flurry of strikes. Ruin weaved and dodged, searching for an opening.

And there it was.

The male overextended on a thrust. Ruin seized his wrist and yanked him off balance. In the same fluid motion, he drove his knee up into the merc's face. Cartilage crunched beneath the impact.

Nearby, Hush was a blur of red and black, tail flicking out to trip one challenger before he put a round through their skull while simultaneously kicking another hard enough to shatter the male’s face shield.

As they battled their way through enemy forces, the corridor became a chaotic uproar of motion and violence. Shots were fired, fists met flesh, and bodies dropped.

But with every one that fell, the weight of the stakes pressed harder against him.

The longer this fight went on, the greater the danger his female was in. All it would take was one stray shot. Unable to help himself, he glanced up at the ceiling to make sure there were no new holes in it.

That brief moment of distraction cost him.

Sharp, white-hot agony exploded in his upper arm as an energy bolt seared straight through armor and flesh. He tasted blood as he bit down against the pain, his vision briefly whiting out at the edges. The smell of burned flesh filled his nose a heartbeat later.

Fucking hells!

He'd been shot more times than he could count, but it never failed to piss him off.

Zeroing in on the fuck who’d shot him, he roared, the primal sound echoing off the walls. The merc stumbled back, eyes wide with fear.

Dark satisfaction spread through him, intensifying tenfold when he shot the male between the eyes.

Ruin could physically feel Lira’s concern like a phantom pressure on the back of his head.

“Good?” Hush called out.

“Fabulous,” Ruin snarled. “Just fuckin' fabulous.”

The throbbing heat from the gunshot wound was a constant annoyance, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. He’d fought through much, much worse.

He and Hush moved in tandem down the corridor, carving a path through the Onyx Corp mercenaries. The sensory overload was intoxicating—the percussion of gunfire, the hiss of energy bolts, the grunts and roars.

Just as they drove the remaining hostiles around a bend, a lucky shot hit Hush in the calf, burning through his armor and into his leg. His knee buckled and his face twisted in pain. A second shot grazed his left forearm. It, too, burned through his armor, but didn’t leave a new hole, just a bloody streak.

Hush let out a pained grunt, but didn't falter.

Ruin knew his friend was tough as steel and then some, but his gut still clenched at seeing him injured.

“How bad?” he demanded.

Hush bared his teeth in a facsimile of a smile and fired off another shot. “I’m good. Just didn’t want you feelin’ embarrassed about lettin’ yourself get shot, s’all.”

Even in the midst of battle, the urge to roll his eyes was almost irresistible. Trust Hush to pop off with jokes whilesimultaneously shooting people in the face and bleeding all over the fucking floor.

A sharp crack suddenly echoed through the corridor. Ruin recognized the sound of Lira’s mag-coil pistol instantly.

Up ahead, a Voragon, kneeling and aiming a godsdamn plasma burst rifle at them, toppled over sideways with a neat hole burned through his chest.

That rifle would’ve spelled the end of him and Hush if that male had managed to fire it. Lira had just saved their lives. Again.

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