Page 89 of Taken

Talon curses, the sound sharp in the sterile corridor. He checks the bloody graze on his arm, then the ammunition in hisweapon. “If—and I meanif—we do this, we move fast. One shot at it. Then we’re gone.”

“I’ll go,” Hargen offers. “You two head for the extraction point.”

“Alone?” Talon’s laugh is knife-edged. “With that shoulder? You won’t make it halfway.”

Hargen’s jaw tightens, hand unconsciously moving to the hastily bandaged gunshot wound. Blood seeps through the white gauze, turning it crimson. A reminder of the price he paid for my cooperation.

“We go together,” I decide. “All of us.”

Talon studies my face for a heartbeat before nodding once. “Lead the way, Cole.”

We move through empty corridors silently, each accidental footstep setting my nerves jangling. My body protests with each step, muscles shrieking from confinement, but I push through. Pain is an old friend—the only constant companion I’ve had for all this time.

Hargen guides us through service passages, avoiding the main thoroughfares. His breathing is labored, face pale beneath a sheen of sweat, but he doesn’t slow. Determination is etched into his expression, and he moves with a purpose I haven’t seen from him before.

“Almost there,” he whispers, voice strained.

We reach a security door reinforced with metal and magic. I feel the wards humming against my skin, ancient safeguards designed to keep the unwanted at bay. Designed to keep me away from what is rightfully mine.

Talon moves to the keypad, fingers flying over the surface. “My clearance should—”

“Won’t work.” Hargen shakes his head. “Only Creed and Emerson have access.”

I step forward, placing my palm against the cold metal. The wards recognize me, recognizing the blood that connects me to the relic inside. “They designed it to keep me out,” I say, a smile stretching my cracked lips. “But they used my blood to create the lock.”

Magic burns through my veins, familiar yet somehow stronger since the extraction that nearly killed me. My blood sings to the wards, calls to them, demands entry.

The lock surrenders with a hydraulic hiss.

“How the hell—?” Talon begins.

“They should’ve killed me when they had the chance.” I push the door open with a satisfied smile.

The vault beyond is surprisingly small, sterile white like everything in this cursed place. Security panels line one wall, monitoring systems glow blue in the dimness. And there, suspended in a containment field at the center—the Shard.

After all the pain it’s caused me, I’d expected to hate the sight of it. Instead, I feel… recognition. A sense of belonging.

“We need to hurry,” Talon urges, checking the corridor behind us.

Hargen approaches the control panel, hands moving with the certainty of someone who’s observed this process many times. The containment field flickers, then dies. The Shard drops into his waiting palm.

I take it from him, fingers closing around the warm crystal. Power surges up my arm, fierce and familiar. The Shard recognizes me, desires me as much as I’ve learned to hate it. But there’s something different now; the connection feels less invasive, more balanced.

“Got it,” I breathe, tucking the Shard into the pocket of my prison-issue pants.

“Now we move,” Talon says, leading us back into the corridor.

We retrace our steps, moving faster now as we hear the alarms that begin to wail through the facility. Someone’s discovered the bodies. Or the missing prisoner. Or both.

“Two levels up,” Talon says as we reach a stairwell. “Then we’re out.”

My legs burn as we climb, each step taking more effort than the last. The Shard pulses against my thigh, lending me strength I shouldn’t have. Hargen falls behind, his injured shoulder making the ascent torturous.

I drop back to his side. “Stay with me,” I urge, slipping my arm around his waist.

“I’m fine,” he grits through clenched teeth but leans into me, anyway.

We emerge onto a maintenance level, pipes and conduits running along the ceiling and walls. The exit lies ahead, so close I can taste freedom on my tongue, sharp and sweet.

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