Winter's Warrior: Mark of the Monarch (Winter's Saga 4)

“Damn it,” he breathed and pointed his weapon directly at the moving shadow, tracking its progress through his scope.

“They’re coming for us,” Farrow said. “Probably just waiting for backup before they attack,” she added rationally. And though she seemed completely confident on the outside, inside she was terrified everything was about to go to hell.

“We need to go on the offensive. Meg and the others could be pouring out that door any minute. We can’t let them walk into an ambush.”

“Agreed.”

“I’ll take those on the right, you go left. We run to the doors and defend the others from there.”

“Right. On the count of three, we run.”

Alik looked directly at Maze. “Get ready to run with us, okay?”

Maze licked his muzzle and pranced in place, as though excited to bolt away from the danger he sensed.

Together Alik and Farrow counted: one, two, three.

Both metas yanked open their doors and sprinted, guns blazing in their predetermined directions. Maze bolted past the two soldiers and ran like a silver blur into the building, the front doors still hanging wide open.

Return fire was swift. A barrage of bullets showered from both the north and south.

They ran further back into the lobby to find protection from what was bound to be a convergence of soldiers coming for them. That’s when they saw what was left of the elevator.

“What happened here?” Farrow breathed, trying to make sense of the destruction.

“Damn!” Alik breathed, putting the pieces together quickly with his perfect memory. “The power’s out. The only way to the basement is by elevator. They crawled down the elevator shaft to get to the kids.” The vein in Alik’s forehead pulsed angrily, worry etched deeply in his youthful face.

They ran to the jagged hole in the floor of the elevator and peered down. Maze was already barking into it as though he’d chased quarry there.

Alik put his hand on Maze’s flank to calm him before yelling, “Meg? Creed? Evan? Are you there?” his deep voice echoing through the darkness.

Silence screamed back at them.

Alik and Farrow exchanged worried looks. “Well, this explains why it was taking them so long,” Alik rationalized.

“I wonder if the metas out there are coming in after us.” Farrow crouched at a corner and risked a peek around it to see if she could determine how badly they may be trapped.

She saw nothing.

Seconds passed.

“Maybe we should go in after them?” Farrow whispered, torn between watching the front doors for soldiers and looking back at the elevator.

A metallic squeaking sound pierced the silence. Someone was coming up the elevator shaft. With their attention drawn to the hallway behind them, they didn’t notice the furtive soldiers until it was too late.

Ratt-a-tat! Ratt-a-tat!

Farrow and Alik both dove for better coverage even as they rolled to return fire. Chunks of mint green cement and plumes of white powdered dust flew around the room as the soldiers’ bullets hit the lobby walls. Farrow was sprawled flat on her stomach. In her outstretched hands she held her weapon, calmly aiming and pulling the trigger returning fire with precision. Across the hallway Alik was in a very similar position, though he had crawled toward a sturdy metal waste bin and was crouched behind it, reaching around the corner and returning fire with just as much success as Farrow. His perfect memory seemed to slow the action in his mind so he could watch the patterns of the soldiers’ techniques and predict where they would fire next. Both metas knew someone else was firing against the metasoldiers, but neither could to turn around to see who had emerged from the elevator shaft.

The last soldier was struck down by that unknown meta. Both Farrow and Alik turned to see who it was and felt no surprise to see Creed’s white-dust covered face step out from around the wall he had been using as cover. The foyer was riddled with bullet holes, still steaming white dust.

“Where are the others?”

“I’m right here,” Evan’s voice came from behind Creed. His gun was drawn and still smoking.

“Meg, Sloan…it’s safe. Come on up.” Evan called down the shaft.

Seconds later Meg emerged with a small bundle in her arms. She was hugging it to her protectively, her eyes bright and darting around looking for danger. Meg’s empath senses were bursting with energy. The world around her was crackling with newfound definition. Even in their moment of peril, she felt a connection to the world around her she’d never known—especially now that she held the precious bundle in her arms.

She would kill anyone who tried to harm a hair on this baby’s head. She’d never felt so overwhelmed by her need to protect as she did holding the little boy who seemed content to snuggle his little face deep into her neck. She kept sending him waves of soothing empath emotions. So much so, that the little fellow had fallen fast asleep. Even through all the sounds of gunfire, the baby slept, a fist full of Meg’s dark locks in his tiny hand.