Page 93 of The Hive Queen

“I hate it when our daddies fight,” O’Hara jokes, reminding everyone we’re not alone.

Sharpe’s jaw clenches, and he gazes around at the officers who hover around us. “Our objective is to take down the Hive Queen and tranquilize any drones inside. Stay on alert. We don’t know what we’re walking into.”

Sobering, everyone nods and checks their weapons.

Mayn, O’Hara, and Troy take the lead, with Pen and Amalia only a few paces behind. I hold Flint back, waiting until a few more people follow before nudging us into motion.

While I don’t like not being at Pen’s side, I trust Amalia’s savagery to take down anything that comes at them, and Flint needs me more.

Sharpe must feel the same, because he stays close to Flint’s side, his air rifle at the ready.

The temperature rises as we step into the house, and a sickly-sweet scent of honey fills my nose. Flashlights flick on to illuminate interior walls coated in a waxy substance, and every step I take sticks to the floor.

Mayn’s voice sings through the speakers. “Halt.”

Everyone freezes.

A moment later, she says, “My Voice is of no use here.”

“Proceed forward,” Sharpe commands, frustration making the words sound abrupt.

It can’t be easy to be thrown so far out of everything he’s come to understand about Others and have to start over from square one with this new monster.

The first casualty comes into view when we enter the hall as we step over the sprawled legs of a man with two feathered darts in his chest. He must be who Mayn tried to compel.

A vibration fills the air that thrums through my body, and my ears itch, but the earbuds hold up to the suppressive weapon of the drones in the house.

We pass the archway into another room off the hall, and movement rushes toward us.

I fire off two darts into the drone’s chest before kicking out with my foot to send the man toppling backward into the room.

The deeper we go, the thicker the wax becomes, reshaping the rectangular lines of the house into hexagonal shapes, the ceiling pressing down and forcing those of us who are taller to walk in a crouch.

The itching in my ears worsens, traveling down my throat, and my hand trembles on my rifle before I force it to steady once more.

I take a calming breath, and the sickly sweetness crawls down my throat, the air thick as honey and making it hard to breathe. Fire rises within me in response, burning away the effects, and the pendant beneath my shirt heats.

The burn of metal against my skin helps to ground me, and I use the discomfort to maintain my focus.

Mayn’s voice slithers into my ears. “We’ve reached the tower.”

“The drone is on the third floor,” Flint says.

“Be careful,” Sharpe cautions.

Dread fills my stomach as we reach the stairs a moment later and head up after the rest of the group. It’s possible the Hive Queen hasn’t had enough time to convert an army of drones, but I thought we’d face a lot more opposition in the heart of her domain.

“We found her,” Pen announces. “She has company.”

We quicken our steps and spill out onto the top floor of the tower.

Two dozen drones fill the room, the density of their buzz rattling my concentration, even through the white noise that fills my ears. The cloying sweetness thickens up here, making my teeth hurt and my gut tighten.

Mayn and Pen try to clear a path for Troy and O’Hara to get closer with their hooks, but the restriction of two rounds at a time from the air rifles makes it slow, and they’re forced back toward the stairs.

Amalia hovers behind them with the Shard, waiting for an opening.

I pop off a couple of darts before I have to reload.

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