Page 94 of The Hive Queen

A dart flies past my cheek, landing in the chest of a drone coming toward us, followed by a second dart from Johannsson, but the small room makes it difficult to maneuver.

I pop another pair of darts into a drone, then kick the large man into the ones who swarm in behind him, clearing a space for me, Sharpe, and Flint to step into the room and clear the stairwell for the next in line.

As I reload, Sharpe fires, and I take in the room to assess the situation, but the tall figure at the back, behind the swarm of drones, draws my attention.

The Hive Queen stands at the back of the room, over six feet tall with a wasp-thin waist and rounded hips. Large, multifaceted eyes fix on me beseechingly, silently begging for help, and my rifle lowers.

This can’t be the monster we’re looking for. She’s too fragile. Too beautiful. Such a being needs to be protected.

A hand slaps over my mouth and nose, and my senses fill with the scent of sweat and gunmetal, blocking the monster’s pheromones from luring me closer.

Nodding my thanks to Sharpe, I pull my mask down, the soft material hugging my face and helping to filter my breaths. Without the pheromones messing with my head, I see the Hive Queen for the monster she is, the pincers that form her mouth deadly weapons against any mate who approaches.

Her faceted eyes move past me to Flint, and her pincers curl in and out with excitement as a dual-toned voice cuts through the battle, “The immortal witch. My drones told me of you. My eternal mate.”

Oh, fuck no. She’s not getting Flint.

I drop my air rifle to pull my shotgun from my back, aim, and fire.

Her head jerks, her neck bending at a ninety-degree angle before it snaps back in place, and she gestures to the drones nearest her. “Bring me my mate.”

The drones turn from her and rush forward.

Sharpe drops his rifle, grabs the gun from his shoulder holster, and shoots the nearest drone through the throat. “Take them down, now.”

Fucking finally.

The detectives in front of us drop to their knees, pulling their handguns and firing.

I swing my rifle to the right and shoot the drone coming at us from the side.

Pen’s blood-thirsty growl mingles with Mayn’s as the two women press forward, felling drones left and right and clearing a path.

O’Hara and Troy dart forward, twin hunters moving in unison, and their chained hooks fly toward the Hive Queen, sinking deep into her body.

Golden blood seeps from the wounds, and she screeches in pain, her thin arms swinging at the chains.

Her strength pulls Troy and O’Hara forward a few paces before they run left and right, yanking the chains downward.

“Now, Amalia!” Pen shouts.

Amalia races forward, the spear in her hand, and buries the Shard into the Hive Queen’s chest. Everyone freezes, waiting to see what will happen.

But nothing changes.

The drones continue forward as the Hive Queen shrieks and bucks, snapping the chains from the hooks. She rises, and Amalia, still holding onto the spear, rises too.

Then a black stinger curves over the top of the Hive Queen’s head to stab into Amalia’s chest, impaling her.

Blood spits from Amalia’s lips, and she grasps the stinger with one hand, the other still on the shaft of her makeshift spear, shoving it deeper into the Hive Queen with no effect.

Wings burst from the monster’s back, and she lifts into the air, taking Amalia with her.

“No!” Flint pushes past me before I can grab him, rushing toward them.

The Hive Queen’s attention shifts to him. “I will be back for you, mate.”

“Fuck. You.” Amalia coughs through the blood in her lung, still holding onto the stinger. Her arm lifts toward the ceiling. “Just die already, you evil bitch.”

---