Page 110 of Shielded Heart 1
“Quickest way is through the big door,” Thargen said. Delighted fire burned in his eyes; this was his element, this was what he lived for.
Samantha was glad he was on their side.
They raced along the corridors, working their way ever deeper into the compound. Sam had never seen most of the hallways they ran through and didn’t have time to orient herself; Drakkal kept her slightly ahead of him, ensuring his body shielded her back. She tried not to acknowledge the fact that none of them were wearing armor of any sort.
We’ll be okay. We’re going to make it, and we’ll be safe, and then Razi and Koroq can get back to arguing about who won how many credits from who in that last game.
Someone yelled behind them. More blaster fire darted back and forth, and Drakkal growled out what must’ve been a curse. Samantha pressed her lips together and forced her legs to keep moving. Her nostrils flared with her heavy, burning breaths.
“Doing good, Sam. Keep going,” Drakkal said.
The steadiness of his voice granted Samantha strength; she’d learned how terrifying these situations were when Arcanthus had rescued her from the apartment complex, but she’d also learned how grounding it was to be around someone who held his cool even when his life was in danger.
Someone like Arcanthus.
God, Arc, please be okay. Please.
She had no idea where he was, no idea what he was facing right now—no idea if she’d ever see him again.
No, Iwillsee him again. This isn’t the end, damn it. We’re both getting through this.
Though she was grateful to have Drakkal there, she longed to have Arc beside her so she could cling to his warm, solid body, so she’d know he was safe.
Hell, she would’ve felt more comfortable—or at least less powerless—with a blaster in her hand. She wasn’t a great shot, but it would’ve beensomething; even the illusion of being able to fight back might’ve been enough. Having no practical means of defending herself was frightening. It reminded her too much of how helpless and weak she’d always felt around James.
“Shit,” someone yelled; it might’ve been one of the cren, but Sam wasn’t sure.
Samantha ducked as plasma bolts struck the nearby wall, punching orange-ringed holes in concrete and metal. Drakkal shoved her into the shallow recess of a doorway and blocked the opening with his body. She pressed her face against the door and clenched her jaw, caged in the tight space as a cacophony sounded around her—shouts, gunfire, growls—all underscored by her rapidly beating heart.
We’re going to be fine.
Drakkal hissed as a bolt zipped past his head; an instant later, the acrid odor of singed fur stung Sam’s nose. Smoke curled from the spot on his bristling mane that had been burned away.
We’re going to befine.
Unfortunately, she found her own thoughts unconvincing.
TWENTY-FIVE
Arcanthus clenched his jaw as he retrieved the blaster from its hidden compartment beside his bed. Fear had coiled through his insides, touching everything with its cold, slimy fingers, but it could not extinguish the firestorm of his rage.
Once again, Vaund had violated Arc’s sanctuary. He’d attacked Arc’shome.
My home, my friends…now my mate. You don’t get to take everything again.
He checked the surveillance feeds as he hurried to the door. Fighting had already spilled into the compound, but he couldn’t tell how many Syndicate attackers had entered, couldn’t tell how many of his people were up and fighting, couldn’t guess which corridors would be safe to travel. Samantha, Drakkal, and a few others had escaped the lounge and were involved in a fighting retreat toward the workshop, and more of Arc’s people were battling elsewhere in the compound, all outnumbered. Two of them—Sekk’thi and Urgand—were a relatively short distance from Arcanthus, caught in a firefightwith several of the invaders. There was minimal cover available to them.
Arc’s deepest instincts demanded he ignore everything, everyone, and charge across the compound to reach Samantha as quickly as possible, but he couldn’t obey them this time. He had to help his people, his friends, as best he could along the way. He would not allow a repeat of the slaughter on Caldorius. He would not fail the people who followed him—not again. Arcanthus had no doubt that Drakkal would do everything in his power to protect Sam.
That had to be enough for now.
He dismissed the holocom screen, formed his hardlight shield, and entered the corridor, hurrying to Sekk’thi and Urgand. Each step forward intensified the furious heat in his chest.
My home. My friends.
My mate.
Arcanthus raised the shield as he turned into the hall where Sekk’thi and Urgand were fighting. Two of the gunmen at the far end were dead, but the rest—four or five, at least—shifted their focus to Arc and fired. Plasma burst and dissipated in flashes across his shield. He spread his fingers wide, pushing the shield to its maximum size, and advanced toward his friends.
