Page 130 of Princess of Vengeance

“Get back,” I whisper, pulling Quinn with me as we duck into an alcove. The others follow, pressing themselves against the wall just as a group of guards rounds the corner, heading toward the basement.

I count five of them, all armed with automatic weapons. Too many to take on head-to-head, especially in our condition.

But they pass without noticing us, too focused on responding to the alarm. Once they’re gone, we hurry in the direction theycame from, treading as lightly as we can through the empty, echoing corridors.

“We need weapons,” Nico says, his voice low. “I took this off one of the guards, but it’s not enough.” He holds up a handgun and checks the magazine. “Six rounds left.”

We keep moving, following Cassandra’s lead. At a junction, we encounter two more guards. They spot us immediately, raising their weapons, but Nico is faster. Two shots, two bodies hitting the floor.

“Four left,” he says, retrieving their weapons and passing them out. Now we’re better armed, but still completely outnumbered and outgunned.

We round another corner and freeze. A group of guards has set up a makeshift barricade at the end of the hallway, all of them with weapons trained on our position.

“Get back!” Atlas shouts, pulling me and Quinn behind the corner as bullets pepper the wall where we were just standing.

“Fuck!” I slam my fist against the wall. “We’re trapped.”

Nico peers carefully around the edge. “Too many to rush. And they’ve got the high ground.”

“Options?” Quinn asks, her voice steady despite everything.

“We could try another route,” Cassandra suggests, but her face says she knows it’s not likely to work. This place is crawling with Malcolm’s men by now.

“They’re going to flank us soon,” Atlas points out. “We can’t stay here.”

I look at Quinn, at Nico and Atlas. My family. The only people in this shitty world I’ve ever cared about. I refuse to let it end here, in some trafficker’s warehouse, gunned down like animals.

“I’ll create a distraction,” I say, checking the weapon I took from one of the guards. “The rest of you make a run for it.”

“No fucking way,” Nico growls.

“We’re not separating,” Quinn says firmly.

Before I can argue, a metallic object rolls into the corridor from behind the guards’ barricade. It clatters across the floor, coming to rest just feet from our position.

“Grenade!” Owen shouts, but instead of an explosion, the canister erupts in a cloud of thick, white smoke that rapidly fills the entire hallway.

The guards start coughing and shouting in confusion. Gunfire erupts, but it’s wild and unfocused, with bullets hitting the walls and ceiling as they shoot blindly into the smoke.

“What the fuck?” I raise my own weapon, ready to fire back even though I can’t see a damn thing.

Then a voice calls out from somewhere in the smoke—a woman’s voice, clear and commanding.

“Quinn! This way! Follow my voice!”

Quinn gasps beside me. “Willow?”

42

QUINN

“Quinn! This way! Follow my voice!”

I freeze at the sound, blinking through the thick white smoke that’s rapidly filling the corridor. That voice—I’d know it anywhere.

“Willow?” My own voice is raw and cracking from all the smoke and screaming I’ve done. I squint, trying to make out shapes through the swirling cloud.

A figure that’s too small and thin to be one of Malcolm’s guards starts to form in the haze, and it’s moving quickly toward us. Willow’s face appears, determined and focused as she tosses another smoke grenade down the corridor. Her eyes lock with mine, and relief washes over her features.

---