Page 9 of Beastly Armory

He's likely been sitting in his castle at the top of the city, watching me every time I visited. Echoes told me she had taken care of his eyes... at least for tonight. But it seems as if my safety window is closing faster than I’d like. All his cameras are operational, which means that his spies are as well.

“Oh! Look at what a treat we have here. You came prepared, like my own personal piñata.” Strauss’s hot breath pulses over my neck as he speaks. “If I beat it, do you think candy will fall out?” Clenching my teeth, I shudder as Strauss pulls the butt plug from my ass swiftly, my exposed hole feeling quite vulnerable. “Don’t worry, I’ll be happy to stuff it with my cum.”

Years of jiu jitsu training kick in. I’m not useless. I just need to get him in the right position to gain my advantage. If he gives me a finger, I’ll take an arm.

Bending over, I wiggle my hips to entice him. Vlad’s large hand slides around my pelvic bone until he starts to dry hump me, loosens his zipper, then peels the crotch open to take out his cock. While he’s distracted, I subtly slide my fingers down to my calf boot.

Before he can react, I whip around with my fixed blade at the ready, nicking his throat with a quick stab. I miss the carotid but am fast enough that he stumbles back, clutching his throat without a sound. As he backs away, my hands yank up my pants, and I make a dash for the door. His heavy footfalls alert me to his presence just behind my left shoulder.

Pumping my legs, I don’t stop sprinting, leaping up the large stone stairs two at a time. When I reach theheavy wooden church doors, I shove with my full strength until they burst open, the cold night air hitting my skin like I’ve been doused by a bucket of ice water. It’s silent behind me. Strauss has either relented… or has set a trap.

Avoiding the obvious route, I dart to my left, toward town. Groups of people stumble out of bars or restaurants as I run down the sidewalk, pushing through the shoulders of annoyed patrons on the edge of South Side. Pulling out my phone, I practically scream into it. “Nine-one-one!”

“I saw, babe. It’s dark out there.” Echoes gives me the code that she has been shut out. I’m fucked. The call goes dead. Flicking my arm, I toss the phone into the thicket near the road in case it’s traced.

I keep my legs churning, pumping as fast as I can go. If I can make it past the Strauss buildings on the south end of North Side, I should be in the clear. It’s getting by his men that will be my biggest problem.

As headlights of cars drive by, I’m illuminated with revealing light. I monitor each passing window, seeing if it’s lowering enough to stick a barrel out of. Roadways are too dangerous, especially with the streetlamps and business signs showcasing my every move. North Side is filled with clean, tall skyscrapers, everything too new and bright to give me much cover. Once I hit the South, it will be easier, the neon lights of the casinos and strip joints casting shadows over the drunken patrons who loiter the streets. More people to mix in with for disguise.

The alleys of the short brick buildings of Ace’s territory edge closer and closer, the landscape changing from overbearing glass brutalist to modest mid-century. If I get between two, I can hide or climb onto a roof to make it to the southwest end of Main Street. Once I’m immersed in Donovan’s area, I’ll slip into the woods. And then home.

A sharpzingwhizzes past my ear.Fuck.

The screech of tires over my right shoulder tells me the car is only a few feet behind and revving the engine. I’m a sitting duck. Especially if they try to run me over on the pavement.

Racing in a zigzag, a few morepingsof bullets ring out around me. A coffee shop’s large glass front window explodes when I sprint past it, the people inside screaming in terror. I rush inside the shop as patrons try to escape chaotically, likely used to the violent threats that erupt every so often. Someone not falling in line with the consort’s demands, so everyone has to pay.

Shoving bodies out of my way, I make it to the back of the sleek, white-tiled store and push open the swinging black kitchen door. A barista dodges behind a counter, her eyes wide with fear. I stop and lean over, putting a hand on the cold stainless-steel surface, trying to hold my tired body up, heaving breaths of nourishing air.

I have to keep moving. I can’t stop. They won’t.

“Back… back exit,” I huff out.

The barista lifts a shaky finger and points to a doorway near the rear of the store.

Oh! I know where I am! If I can just get to the roof…

Once I enter the darkened alley, the condensation puddles from old air conditioning units echo my steps between the red brick walls. It’s cleared of men here, but screams filter in from the street. Car horns are honking erratically, but none travel past my alley. A fire escape ladder looks like my hope for rescue, its bottom steps almost down to the ground. Grabbing on, I use the full weight of my body to yank at it until it gives way, landing on the pavement with a loud crash. Like in my days of youth mounting a tree, I shimmy up quickly, heaving it back into position behind me so whoever was sent after me doesn’t see.

After seven stories, my body almost collapses onto the gravel roof. A rusted ventilation fan sits in the middle, its side still spray painted with a blue “V.” I drop to my knees and slide over to it, pebbles bruising my hip as I do. Reaching between the metal grate, I tug on the small door, revealing an alcove big enough for… my crossbow. It’s loaded and ready, the bolt a little worn, but it will do.

Before revealing my location, I stick my hand in my pocket, rub the hard metal object and whisper, “One, two, three.”

Shimmying on my stomach, I peer over the ledge to the street below. The black Mercedes is still parked at an angle near the front of the café, blocking any traffic from moving along the street. Two men look around with their guns pointed at the ground, speaking to each other words I can’t hear. One shrugs, and the other, with a tattoo on his hand, appears to point around the area. They haven’tspotted me. The tattooed hand guy pulls out his phone and yells something unintelligible into it, then shoves it back in his pocket. As the men get back into their car and drive away, a deep exhale eases the tension in my chest.

Rolling to my back, I let my skull rest against the sharp edge of the bricks. The chill of the night air restores some strength, and the night sky opens like a blank theater screen before me. My body rests as if I’d planned to be in this place at this very moment. But Strauss’s people could still find me, so I need to get out of this area and head farther south.

Fortunately, I know just how to jump across buildings from this height and the pattern to get to where I want to go. Alpha, our top spy, taught me when I was sixteen. Everyone knows she’s one of the best escape artists in the city, even besting Strauss’s men a few times, though they caught her once. She knows every crevice and hole as if she forged the city plan herself.

Eventually, I make my way over to Ace’s side of town and drop to the ground. Gnarled Pine Park is just a few hundred yards behind the wall of dirty buildings, gentleman’s clubs, small-time gambling centers, and even a mock gambler’s anonymous storefront, probably instilled when the government still pretended it wasn’t owned by our consort. The rolling hills behind it condense into the deeper woodlands. And my safety.

Once I reach the trees, I let my shoulders hang for a moment. I know these woods better than anyone, except for Ace. And he’s likely holed up in a poker gamesomewhere, too distracted, or drunk, to see his enemy waltzing through his backyard. Maybe he just doesn’t give a shit anymore.

Though I’m jogging slower, I don’t stop moving until I’m almost to the hidden lake. Slumping down in a coppice of ash, I catch my breath and listen for any followers. My skin inherits the iciness of the wind, but it’s not cold enough to fog my exhales.

I’m alone.

For a fleeting second, I consider staying overnight, but Cal will put out a search party for me and just cause more problems I don’t want. Shoving off the bark, I meander out of the woods, down the worn paths out of the trees, marking a “V” into some with my blade. The ground is cold and solid, at least, so I won’t leave many prints to trace.

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