Ashur was out. Which meant I hadn't lost. Which meant the game wasn't over.
A slow smile tugged at my mouth as I stared at the doctor—panic written all over his face.
Patrick rasped, "Do we alert the Triangle Apex? We have to stop him before—"
The doctor spun, fisted Patrick's collar, and snarled, "Idiot. If the Apex finds out Ashur broke his cell and we made this mess, he'll kill us first."
He shoved Patrick away, wiped the sweat off his brow with a bloody handkerchief, and growled, "And he can't do a damn thing anyway. I'll flood this wing with Red Ward units."
Patrick swallowed hard and dipped his head. "Y-yes, sir."
The doctor barked at the remaining guards, "Dump your mags—but don't kill him. I want him alive."
My smile widened. My laugh rang out—clear as a death knell. Both men snapped their wild, frightened eyes to me.
When the sound died, I fixed the doctor with a cold, hateful look. "Huh. Sounds like someone woke the piranha."
I tipped my head. "The fish is out of its tank, Doc…" My eyes went wide; I rasped, "And he's starving—very."
Rage flashed in the doctor's gaze; his fists knotted, jaw clamped. "He's in my domain. He won't get far."
I laughed like a lunatic, ran my tongue over my bloody lip, tilted my head, and whispered, "You still don't get it. You're in his domain now—smack in the middle of his ocean." I smiled. "Piranha can smell your blood. He's coming."
Patrick sneered, gun trained on the door. "You really think he's here to save y—"
The metal door creaked open—slow, scraping.
We all froze.
A guard stepped through—then flew, hurled to the floor at the doctor's and Patrick's feet. A giant shadow pooled across the white parquet. My gaze climbed, stunned.
Ashur stood there, hands soaked up to the wrists. The muscles across his shoulders twisted and bunched; veins corded under his skin like tree roots breaking the earth. His broad chest—mapped with scars and old stitches—rose and fell, slow.
Then I met his eyes.
Two dark gates to hell—hot, searing, inhuman.
I couldn't breathe. No one could.
The guards holding me let go. I dropped to my knees. The doctor stumbled back, shoulders caving, hands shaking.
Ashur bowed his head, staring at the body on the floor. With his head lowered you could see the tattoo across his scalp: two eerie serpent eyes staring straight at us. It was like he wore two faces—man and viper—some ancient god half human, half snake. Blood on his hands, no expression at all, he looked monstrous enough to stop hearts.
He wore a pair of combat boots and nothing but black trousers.
No one moved. We were nailed in place.
Ashur lifted his head—slowly—and fixed those empty eyes on the doctor like a madman.
The doctor's eyes went huge. He was waiting for his men—I knew it.
Ashur's voice came rough and terrifying: "Run."