Page 13 of Avenger of Sins

Just following orders—the cowardly refuge for someone who’d been happy to do his job, right up until facing the consequences. If Foster’d had the nerve to at least own up to his own culpability, Ryan might have had some sliver of respect for him.

But what had he expected? People with any sort of courage wouldn’t torment helpless captives who couldn’t fight back.

Jo let out a moan of pain, and he winced. “Sorry, sorry. I’m trying not to hurt you.”

“Do you think…am I going to lose it?” she asked.

“No, of course not,” he reassured her, though in truth he wasn’t sure. Her right hand was a mangled mess of broken bones and shredded flesh where the creature had sunk its fangs in deep. She might as well have been bitten by a mountain lion or a grizzly bear.

She needed stitches and antibiotics. Hell, she needed surgery to put muscles back together and try to prevent permanent nerve damage, if that was even an option at this point.

But as usual, none of them were getting what they needed.

If only things could have played out differently. If they could have reunited under better circumstances.

That was a pipe dream, though. There was no other way things could have happened. Not once John began to remember; not after Ryan committed to giving his old friends back their true selves. From then on it was inevitable that SPECTR would find out. Ryan would be recaptured and put into some black ops site. As for what would happen to the others, he didn’t know, but SPECTR wouldn’t let them loose to tell the world about its sins.

So the only choices had been to sit and wait for SPECTR to come for him—for them all—or try to enact some justice.

There was no happy ending ahead for any of them. Hadn’t been since the day they’d walked through the Center’s doors.

“They’re going to be waiting for us,” Jo said. She leaned her head tiredly against the passenger door, skin gray from pain. “We aren’t going to get Lydell, are we?”

“We are. We’ll have to be more creative, that’s all.” He secured the gauze and stepped back. “None of this was in vain, Jo.”

“I hope not.” She licked her lips. “Can I have some more blood? It will make me feel better.”

It probably would. That sensation of power, the headiness of it, would push through the pain for a while. But if they weren’t going to get any more, they needed to ration what they had left.

“Try to sleep,” he said. “That’s what you need to heal. Lie down in the back seat, and I’ll drive.”

She acquiesced. They’d stolen another car to replace Foster’s; curse the drakul for ripping open the roof and making it so noticeable. As she settled in the back, she said, “John wasn’t there.”

Ryan slid into the driver’s seat. “He was nearby. Waiting.”

“I wish he was with us,” Jo murmured, sounding on the very edge of sleep. “What do you think Kaniyar did to him?”

Ryan started the car, swallowing back the grief that slashed him like a knife. “I don’t know. But I doubt it’s anything good.”

FIVE

John steppedinto the little motel room, swaying on his feet. The sheets on the twin beds looked rough and scratchy even from a distance, but at the moment they could have been made from rocks for all he cared.

He’d left a message for Kaniyar about what Night and Gray had found. There would be an investigation into the fire; it was up to her as to whether she wanted to alert local law enforcement, or send in more SPECTR agents, or make the problem disappear altogether.

He’d left his conversation with Ryan out of the report. It felt…private. Personal. If he could just talk Ryan into turning himself in…

“Are you okay?” Caleb asked, shutting the door behind them. They were in one room, with Night and Zahira in the next one over.

“Ryan’s still out there.” John sat on the edge of the nearest bed and kicked off his shoes.

Caleb hovered uncertainly. “And how do you feel about that?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed. “A part of me…Goddess, this sounds terrible, but a part of me is glad he’s still free. I mightfeel differently if I’d seen Foster’s body, though. I just…he’s been through so much, and yes I know what he did to me, to you, but…”

“But you don’t want to see him disappeared into some SPECTR lab again,” Caleb guessed.

John pressed his fingers against his eyes, colors exploding behind the lids when he did so. Because Caleb was right—Ryan was a telepath, and thus valuable. He’d never have a trial of his peers, not when he might manipulate their minds. Kaniyar would tuck him away somewhere as yet another of her “assets,” and take every possible precaution to keep him from escaping again.

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