Page 51 of Taken By the Aurelian Warriors

Another gunshot rings out. It’s a single shot, not from an automatic. If my father hired mercenaries, they’d almost certainly be equipped with fully-automatic slug guns and repeating las-cannons – not single shot rifles or pistols.

That means the gunshots don’t signify a rescue.

But they might signify my best and only chance to get away.

I have to actnow– because I might never get another moment alone and unrestrained. I grab the duffel bag by the straps, dragging it behind me. I’m short of breath as I push it beneath the narrow windows on the opposite wall of the basement.

Then, I run back and grab a second duffel bag from where Otho threw it, down near the entrance. Otho slung it like it was virtually weightless – full of feathers. To me, though, it feels as heavy as if it’s full of rocks. I’m panting and sweating by the time I drag the second duffel bag to the windows. It takes all my effort to heave it on top of the first.

I take a second to catch my breath, glancing nervously at the stairway entrance. It’s not an option to run up – not unless I want to run into Brennan, or wade into the middle of a firefight.

Equally, I can’t stay here. They could be back at any second.

Breathlessly, I clamber onto the duffel bags, balancing as the contents shift beneath my feet.

I take a huge breath and leap up – catching the bottom of the windowsill with my fingertips.

It takes all my strength, but I scramble up the wall, tensing my arms and lifting my head to peek over the edge of the window and into the outside world.

For a moment, I catch a glimpse of moonlit dirt…

…and then my fingers give out.

My knee scrapes against the wall and I feel a sharp, sudden pain in my thigh as my dress rips against a jagged piece of iron. Pain flares up into me, and my adrenaline surges.

“Ow! Ow,ow!” I force back the pain.

On the bags again, I bend and tense my legs – squatting, and readying myself to jump.

A moment before I do, another gunshot rings out like thunder. That means I don’t have long. I jump with all my strength, my injured leg burning in pain. I feel hot blood dripping down my thigh as I catch the bottom of the smashed windowsill.

Shards of glass dig into my hand as I kick with my feet, finding a desperate foothold on the same jagged piece of iron that just opened up my thigh. I push myself up on it, squirming and struggling until I can hoist myself through the window.

Suddenly, I’m outside. I clamber to my feet, wincing as my thigh screams in agony.

The stars twinkle above, and the planet’s faint, bright moon glows overhead – as if watching me from the heavens above. Running on adrenaline, I sprint forward – towards the lights of the city center.

The moon rises high above the abandoned buildings and old factories, and lights my path as I run through the rubble and debris.

Within minutes, my leg gives out, and I tumble. As I land on the floor, I look down at my ripped-open dress. Beneath the fabric, the cut in my thigh appears much worse than I’d thought it was. Blood is streaming out of me. I clasp my hand to the wound and hobble to my feet, pressing my palm against the bloody gouge as I limp and stagger into the night, as fast as I can.

I have a long walk ahead of me – two hours on foot, and that’s if I had both feet.

But I don’t – and the moment I acknowledge that, my leg gives out beneath me.

I slump to the rocks and debris. My heart is pounding through my ears.

“Stop!”

Brennan’s voice rings out across the emptiness. I turn my head, and I wish I hadn’t.

The light of the moon illuminates the warrior.

Brennan is justcoveredin blood – and the most horrific part of it is that it’s not his.

The alien warrior used to look fierce – proud and magnificent. Now, though, he looksbestial– a demon, born from the depths of hell; and coming to grab me and drag me back down there with him.

I clamber to my feet and break into a sprint, ignoring the pain screaming in my thigh. Brennan told me once not to try to escape – and he warned me what would happen if I tried.

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