Page 3 of Light the Fire

More murmuring was happening on the other side of the door. Some of the soldiers on the other side would be enhanced—possibly with my blood—so they could probably hear my heartbeat.

More people had joined the seven men.

“She was upstairs in the training room, so she’ll be armed.”

Ah, my “father,” Commander Moord. The head trainer at the compound and the man in charge of my entire life.

I actually heard at least three men gulp.

I had to stifle a snicker.

The blaring alarm stopped, and I could have sworn I heard my eardrums sigh in relief.

“You’re trapped, Haina,” Moord said, using his bestI’m not mad, I’m just disappointedvoice. Well, I sure knew what that voice meant. It meant that for disobeying him, I’d be tortured to within an inch of my life and then given some kind of sedative until I healed. Not that it took me long to heal from anything. But I’d disappointed Moord enough in my life that I was well aware of how things went. And any insubordination, any insurrection did not go unpunished.

“Haina …” His voice was sharper, deeper. Scarier.

I swallowed.

They would never kill me. I was too valuable. But they could make my life a living hell.

It’s already hell.

And it was that thought that made me shake my head and plaster my back to the wall, deserting even the slightest inclination to reconsider escaping.

I just had to make it through the door, kill everyone on the other side of it, then kill anybody else I came across, make it to the side exit door, scale the thirty-foot-high wall surrounding the compound, and not die when I jumped and landed on the other side.

Then it was just a five-mile sprint through the forest in the middle of the night to the survival pack my one and only ally in this entire place had stashed for me, and then another twenty-mile hike to a bay where Neffers would be waiting for me with a boat.

A flawless plan?

Not so much.

But it was all we had.

“Haina …” Moord said, his voice eerily calm and quiet.

I said nothing.

The man had a very distinct way of grinding his teeth, and he was doing it now.

“Blow the door,” Moord said calmly.

There was shuffling on the other side, followed by a series of beeps. Then explosives.

I stepped back away from the door, adopting my fight stance, because as soon as those doors opened, I was going to have to attack. I couldn’t tell how many men stood on the other side now. There were too many heartbeats to keep track of, too many scents all muddling together. Definitely more than seven. Moord’s was the only one I could still smell distinctly. His smell always made my stomach turn. It was sharp, acrid, and when he’d get up in my face and breathe on me, it damn near made my eyes water.

“Clear!”

Kapow!

A flash of light, then smoke.

I stepped back farther, hiding behind the smoke. I couldn’t see anything anyway, but hopefully, the smoke made it more difficult for them to see me, too.

The door was kicked open, and men shuffled in.

I stood my ground. I had knives and daggers strapped to my thighs, a bow and quiver on my back, and an arsenal of other fun weapons on the utility belt around my waist.

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