Page 111 of Bonds of Hate

The shadow doesn’t even hesitate, continuing its measured pace away from me. The emergency lights flicker, casting everything in hellish red before switching to stark white. In that flash, I catch a glimpse of familiar hair spillingover the figure’s arm. Maya’s head lolls limply against the stranger’s shoulder, the distinctive strands colored magenta under the lights.

My hand instinctively reaches for my sidearm before I remember that we’d all been forced to disarm for dinner. My gaze darts around the debris-strewn hallway. A chunk of concrete about the size of my fist lies at my feet. Not ideal, but it’ll have to do.

I snatch up the makeshift weapon, testing its weight for a split second before hurling it with all my strength at the kidnapper’s back. The concrete strikes true between their shoulder blades.

The figure stumbles forward with a grunt, their grip on Maya loosening. She slides from their arms and crumples to the floor as the stranger catches themselves against the wall. Before I can close the distance, they push off and sprint around the corner, footsteps fading rapidly into the darkness.

Maya moans from the floor, barely conscious, with her head lolled to the side. I don’t miss the gash on the back of her head that must have been caused by hitting the ground.

And I can tend to her or catch the man who just attempted to kidnap her.

Not really a choice at all.

Chapter Twenty-Six

ARES

Isprint through the smoke-filled corridors, checking every room and alcove for Maya. My heart pounds against my ribs, not from exertion but from the growing dread that we won’t find her in time.

Footsteps echo off the marble floors. Through the haze, Poe emerges, carrying Maya’s limp form. Her navy dress is torn, embroidery a mess of shredded thread at her back, and her skin is covered in soot.

The realization that she is still breathing leaves me a little lightheaded.

“Take her.” Poe thrusts Maya into my arms before I can process what’s happening. Her head lolls against my chest, dark hair matted with blood near her temple.

“What happened to her?” I cradle Maya closer, checking her pulse. It flutters beneath my fingers, weak but steady.

“Someone tried to take her.” Poe’s face hardens into granite. “Get her back to the apartment. Now.”

“Where are you going?”

“To hunt down the bastard responsible for this.” Poepulls a blade from his boot, the steel catching what little light filters through the smoke. “I saw where the one who had her went. I’m going to track the bastard down.”

I want to argue, to tell him it’s too dangerous to go alone. But Maya stirs in my arms with a soft whimper of pain. Her safety comes first.

“Don’t get yourself killed,” I call after Poe’s retreating form.

He shoots me a salute using his middle finger before disappearing around a corner.

Maya feels too light in my arms as I carry her through the chaos. Her usual sweet scent is tainted with fear and blood. I press my nose to her hair, breathing in what remains of her true fragrance beneath the acrid smoke. The urge to protect her, to keep her safe, crashes over me with devastating force.

“I’ve got you, little one,” I murmur against her temple. “No one’s going to hurt you now.”

Carrying Maya back to the apartment takes twice as long as it should because of the wreckage. Her body trembles against my chest even in unconsciousness. Each tiny shiver feeds the rage building inside me.

The apartment door is locked when I reach it. I shift Maya carefully in my arms to punch in my security code, keeping her head stable against my shoulder. The panel flashes red.

“Override Epsilon-Seven-Delta,” I growl.

The door clicks open and automatically locks again behind us.

Inside, I don’t hesitate to take her straight back to my room and deposit her on the bed. I let her out of my sightjust long enough to fetch a first aid kit from the bathroom before returning to her side.

Maya blinks herself awake for a few seconds, initially tensing before she recognizes me hovering over her. She releases a relieved sound that makes me want to chain her to the bed so it’s impossible for to leave it again.

The fact that I would happily fuck her while she’s unconscious and injured should probably bother me, but it absolutely doesn’t. It isn’t a conscience that compels me to act like a gentleman.

When I finally have her, I want to make sure she can feel it.

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