Page 88 of Walking in Darkness
Like dipping into Faydor.
Drenched in the sickness that curled and wept.
“Aria!” Pax shouted.
I gasped and flew up to sitting, peering through the hazy light.
Fear slicked through my consciousness when I found Pax.
I was barely able to make out his silhouette.
But he was there.
On his knees on the floor, next to the bed. Pale, pale eyes wide in the night, nearly glowing white with fury.
Only, his arms were pinned behind him by a man wearing a ball cap.
“Aria!” Pax roared against the restraint as he thrashed, trying to break free and get back to me.
Horror ripped through me when I saw the man restraining him lift a metal rod, and my heart seized when he brought it down hard against the side of Pax’s head.
The crack ricocheted against the walls.
Another scream ripped out of me when Pax slumped face-first to the ground.
“No, no, no, no,” I begged into the mayhem, rasps of terror cleaving from my lungs.
I scrambled to move.
To do something.
My mind whirring as I tried to figure out how I could get to him.
How I could help him.
How I could fight off the man, who towered over Pax where he’d fallen to the floor.
All while I prayed and prayed that Pax was okay. That he would get up.
Fight for himself.
“Pax.” It clogged in a stagnant cry at the base of my throat when he didn’t move.
A riot of pounding feet resounded on the opposite side of the door, crashing down the hall.
Timothy and Dani.
I tried to shout to warn them. To warn that there was a man right there who was turning toward the door to stop them.
But I was snatched by the ankle, caught unaware.
My attention flew to my left.
Panic pierced through me.
There was a second man in the room.
Alarm dumped into my system, hot adrenaline that flooded my veins and stirred me into venom. I tried to kick him off. Flailing and twisting, warring to free my ankle from his brutal hold.
