Page 73 of Sergi
And Sergi struck.
I pushed against the darkness,my wolf whining, forcing me back to consciousness. The danger still existed. I opened my eyes, focusing on a chair leg, then the chair, until my eyesight cleared. And the previous minutes returned in a rush. A guard had pulled Gheata off me.
A body flew by, and it took me another few seconds before the guard came into view. But it wasn’t a guard.
Sergi.
Mixed feelings roiled in my head and gut. The first was irritation that Sergi hadn’t left to get help. Then gratitude as a strange warmth filtered through me. If he had left, I’d be dead—or worse.
Not that this outcome was assured, but the red glow in Sergi’s gaze didn’t scare me. It gave me hope. I scrambled to my feet, not wanting to be a casualty in their battle, but I teetered when I stood, my equilibrium off balance, and grabbed the bookshelf I’d been slammed against for support.
Punches and kicks were flying at incredible speeds, and I forced my limbs to work as I edged around the room, moving toward the safety of the lab area. I kept my eye on the battle as I searched the drawers and cabinets for a weapon. Anything I could use for defense. The third drawer revealed a pair of scissors, and I grabbed them. I inched my way to a corner behind the island and watched the battle escalate.
I considered releasing my wolf, but I didn’t want to take off the lab coat with its pockets filled with the evidence Sergi had most likely come searching for. Worry gripped me when I realized the vials could be broken. I’d wrapped them well, but I hadn’t planned on being tossed around the room. I checked bothpockets, and nothing felt wet. My fingers scraped the USB drive, and relief grounded me.
Sergi kicked Gheata in the stomach, and as the interrogator doubled over, Sergi raced in and stabbed him in the kidney.
Gheata roared but didn’t go down, and when he turned to grab Sergi, he was waiting for it. He spun and delivered a roundhouse kick that clocked Gheata on the chin and, unfortunately, sent him flying in my direction.
When he slammed into me, I pushed him with one hand, then remembered the scissors in the other, and I jammed them into his gut. When he stepped away, glancing down at his wound, I ducked in and stabbed again. I’d aimed for the kidney, but the scissors hit bone.
He stepped back and was lifting his fist to me when he was yanked back. Sergi stabbed him again and again. Gheata bent over to block the blows, giving Sergi an opening. He kneed Gheata in the chin, and Gheata flew backward.
The big male wasn’t finished, but his fighting style changed from attack to survival mode. His beast was no match for the beast in Sergi. A slight physical change had enveloped Sergi’s brows and forehead. The red glow of his gaze was intense, and my wolf yipped with excitement at the sight of this predator.
Gheata stood, but when he took a step back, he slipped in a puddle of his own blood. The next move came so quickly I wasn’t sure Gheata saw it coming.
Sergi planted a dagger in Gheata’s right eye, and he convulsed, his body temporarily out of his control. Sergi didn’t waste a moment as he stabbed a second dagger into his neck.
Sergi stood over Gheata, whose head lolled back, his rage evident in his one good eye.
Blood spurted from Gheata’s mouth when he asked, “Who are you?”
Sergi stared down at him, his eyes still glowing, but his facial structure was back to normal. His grin was menacing as he considered the question. Or maybe he waited for Gheata to focus on him since his head continued to roll from side to side.
The blade in Gheata’s eye must have severed something in his brain that controlled motor function. His hands twitched, and one leg spasmed. With enough time, he would heal, but I doubted he’d get the time he needed. And Gheata knew it.
“I’m Sergi. Cadre to House Trelane. I’ll be sure to let your Master know you died well.”
Gheata’s single eye widened at the words, obviously surprised, but then he nodded and grinned, his teeth and the tips of his fangs smeared red with blood.
“I suspected Trelane had something to do with this. I should have known you were cadre.”
“Yes. You should have.”
Then Sergi pulled his dagger out of Gheata’s eye with a sickening wet sound and sliced it across Gheata’s neck. He swung his other hand down, the dagger cutting deep. One swipe from the right and then one from the left. He did it again and again until Gheata’s body went limp.
I wanted to turn away, but my wolf refused. The scent of blood invigorated her. Hell, she wanted to shove Sergi aside so she could get a mouthful of flesh. I could almost taste the blood pouring onto the ground.
This was Sergi’s kill. He’d endured the pain. The torture. And he didn’t stop until Gheata’s head rolled away.
Sergi stepped back,his breathing ragged as he stared down at Gheata’s body while he settled his beast. Satisfied with theoutcome, he wiped his daggers on Gheata’s clothing before sliding them into the shoulder harness.
He turned and searched for Alex. She was in the corner, the bloody scissors still raised in her fist. He couldn’t decipher her expression, but she didn’t appear frightened. Perhaps unbelieving or maybe in shock, and he wondered if she was aware that her gaze glowed red with her wolf.
Her breaths were erratic until she sucked in a long, deep one and met his eyes. Then she grinned. “I guess he had that coming.”
Sergi laughed. It was a deep guffaw as if he hadn’t expressed his humor that grandly in decades. In some regard, finding joy had been spotty at best. House Trelane had many dark moments during those years. The weight of House Leader had been heavy, and Sergi had remained a stoic friend—helping Devon through addiction, the censure of his Council seat, and taking the responsibility of caring for Lyra, who’d attached herself to him as a loyal companion. He would do anything to make his friend’s life easier. And during that time, he hadn’t once thought of his own comforts, happy enough to ensure the House remained secure.
