“So what should I do?” Crowe asked, his foul, stale-sweat smell washing over her before he backed off. “Give you a few more scars?” He tilted his head, looking her over. “Shoot out your kneecaps? Send them back a cripple? You want to be a cripple, bitch?”
She winced, leaning back against the door, and keeping her mouth shut. He took another step away, planting the barrel of his gun against her cheek. “Or I could shoot a hole through your face? See how much better than me you think you are when you’re just as ugly.”
He lowered the gun, brushing it across her chest, and pressing it low against her stomach. “Or maybe I’ll have a little taste of what you’re handing out to all the Alphas first? Maybe if you’re a good enough fuck, I’ll let you keep one of your legs. What do you say?”
She averted her eyes from his face as his meaty tongue poked out to lick his lips, her attention zeroing in on the painting hanging above the dais. She had no idea which of the Gifted gods it was, but she was willing to try anything.
So she closed her eyes and begged.
Please. Help me. I’ll do anything you want. If you’re real, help me.
“Are you praying?” Crowe suddenly laughed, backhanding her across the face and forcing her head to whip to the side. Her eyes flew open. “Those gods aren’t real, you dumb slut!”
Her chest began to tingle as tears tracked down her face, blood filling her mouth. He must have split her lip.
“Please let me go,” she rasped, rubbing at the pain in her chest before realising what it was.
She froze, pulling at the neckline of her dress to stare down at the chain. A new gemstone had appeared. Stormy grey and glowing lightly.
She choked on the sudden taste of ash spilling into the back of her throat.
“What’s wrong with you?” Crowe lowered his gun, his eyes fixed to the subtle glow shining through her dress. “What is that?” He jerked the gun back up. “Take it off and show me. Now!” He fired a warning shot through the door over her shoulder, and her vision wavered, flashing dark and then suddenly vividly bright.
Her breath was a rasp, pain sluicing through the tips of her fingers.
She ducked as Crowe levelled the gun at her head, his eyes widening in panic, and the second shot punched through the door where her head had been as she dove forward, knocking him off balance, the gun scattering against the ground.
“G-Get off me!” he shouted, but she paid no attention.
Her throat was full of scorching sulphur, her eyes seeing only objects for her to tear her claws into. There was some sort of wiggling prey beneath her, and his whining noises needed to be silenced.
She tore through the gun, breaking off the barrel and using it to hit away at the whining thing until the annoying noises turned into garbles, and then silence. She stood and kicked the lifeless thing aside, enjoying the way the items around her splintered into cracks when she wedged her claws into them.
“Illy.” Another prey, though this one didn’t smell as foul. She bounded toward it, but a strong grip caught her wrists, trapping her against something hard.
She snarled, but the prey were closing in on her, bodies surrounding her, the hard thing behind her rumbling with a deep voice.
“Time to come back to us, Carter. I need you to listen to my voice very carefully, and try to say these words with me, okay?”
She thrashed, trying to get her claws into the voice box behind her, to silence it.
“Ten,” he said. “Try to breathe. Nine. Eight. Seven …”
She almost managed to dislodge them, but then more hands were holding her, restricting her movement, leaving her to twitch and snarl, biding her time until one of them slipped up.
“Six,” the infuriating voice continued. “Five. Four. Three. Two … One.”
And then he started again. And again. And again.
Eventually, the vivid colours started to fade, and she began to blearily recognise the faces. She gave one last desperate tug, but there were so many of them restraining her, and she fell limp against the body behind her as Theodore’s face registered in her brain.
His face was bleeding, a short cut along his chin dripping onto his shirt. Moses was beside him, his arms covered in cuts, his stormy eyes focussed. Mikel was behind her, Kalen and Oscar both helping to hold her arms.
She drew in a shuddering breath, her chest keening in pain. “W-What happened?”
“Don’t worry about that right now.” Elijah appeared in her line of sight. “Just keep breathing. Try to slow it down.”
She felt like she was hyperventilating, panic crashing through her in wave after wave. Slowly, they began to release her, but as soon as Moses backed off, she caught sight of Crowe by the entrance.
He wasn’t moving.
She stumbled toward him, but Mikel stepped into her path, shaking his head.
She collapsed to her knees, a wail catching in the back of her throat. “I didn’t …” She stared down at her hands, at the blood coating her all the way to her armpits. “I didn’t …”
“Hey.” Mikel crouched before her, catching her face, and forcing her eyes to his. “Just focus on me, okay? Everything’s fine. You’re safe. You couldn’t control it.”
“Is h-he d-dead?” she hiccupped through her sobs, feeling her chest crack open.
Their fear, fury, and shock poured into her, flooding her as she wavered, Mikel switching his grip to her arms to keep her upright.
“He’s gone,” he said lowly. “It was the ferality, Isobel, not you. Don’t take this on. He was going to kill you. He killed dozens of people out there.”
“Isobel,” Elijah said sharply. “Stop. I can feel that. Stop.” Alpha voice.
She dragged her walls back up. “W-Wasn’t deliberate.”
“It’s okay.” Mikel dragged her against his chest, cupping the back of her head. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re going to be okay.”
She thought she could hear sirens in the distance.
“We need to do something about the body,” Gabriel said. “And we need to hide her.”
Mikel picked her up, drawing her away from Crowe and keeping her face stuck against his chest. He set her down again on the other side of the room, shrugging out of his jacket and pulling it over her dress, zipping it up so that all the blood was hidden.
“Well … it worked once.” Niko picked up a lighter and one of the decorative lanterns set into one of the little alcoves cut into the wall. He smashed the lantern against the ground, liquid splashing out of it, and the others immediately moved to copy him, smashing the rest of the lanterns before Niko set the lighter against the ground, igniting little fires where the lanterns were soaking the ground.
For a moment, they all just stood there, watching the flames lick at the ground. She couldn’t stop crying or shaking, but Niko met her eyes, his expression calm and capable.
“Don’t worry,” he said gently. “We’ll protect you.”