Page 197 of Cerulean Truth
Being inside a Collective, her translation would be the only traceable one. And I was pretty sure the Radicals didn’t know that. Attempting to locate her energy signature, the drops came up with nothing. I frowned. Even if she hadn't translated yet (which was surprising given the apparent danger), I should have been able to find her energy. Where the hell was her signature?
Fuck Emma, you better be alive.
Pushing down the rising panic, all improbable alternatives raced through my mind. If her energy was somehow subdued, that made her as elusive as the others. It left me with only one other option– interrogate one of the Radicals. And given the pressing lack of time to extract answers, it wasn't going to be pretty.
Moving to the next floor, my eyes studied the surroundings for any signs of them. Soon enough, I identified a security booth tucked away in a corner. Behind the reinforced glass, sat a Radical, and whoever he was, he was at least partly responsible for Emma's disappearance. My blood started to boil.
I approached the booth silently, careful to keep my movements undetected. As I unlocked the door, I noticed with a sinking feeling that my haze was visible. Damn it, this meant that any form of stealth or invisibility was out.
Once inside the room, I quickly and quietly closed the distance to the unsuspecting Radical. With one precise and calculated strike, I incapacitated him. As he slumped to the floor, unconscious, I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out into the corridor, maintaining a firm grip to ensure he didn’t slip away.
Locating an empty closet nearby, I forcefully shoved the door open and pushed the magus inside. With a single kick to the nuts, I jolted him awake. His eyes widened in fear as I grabbed his collar and pulled him close.
"Where's Emma Thompson?" I demanded, my voice a low growl.
He stayed silent, his eyes darting around the small, dark space.
I didn't have time for this. I slammed him against the wall. "I said, where is she?"
He groaned but remained tight-lipped. Anger surged through me, and I unleashed a barrage of punches, each one harder than the last. "Tell me!" I hissed.
His silence only fueled my rage. I gripped his hair, yanking his head back. "Tell me where Emma is, or I'll make sure you regret it."
Despite his attempts at silence as I fistfucked his face, my determination to find her inspired a supernatural motivation and unleashed an aggressive streak I hadn't experienced in years. Still, it took seven grueling minutes to break him, which was longer than I would've liked.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally gasped, "Alright, alright! She's... on the third floor."
"Where on the third floor?" I demanded, shaking him, ignoring the blood spraying all over the place.
"There’s a sterile area," he choked out. "They’re luring out her translation."
Godsfuckingdamn. Worst case scenario.
Releasing him, I stepped back, the urgency of finding Emma and stopping the Radicals burning hotter than ever.
After I verified his intel with a corresponding heat signature, I slit his throat. Not entirely, but enough to ensure a slow agonizing death in the cramped closet.
It was still a quicker end than he deserved.
Pulling up the Nexus, I translated in the coordinates for Emma’s holding cell and rushed off, my eyes darting between the blueprints and the current reality of the hallways, adjusting my course accordingly.
My heart didn’t race and my mind wasn’t clouded with fear, this was what I was trained for. As I continued farther down the building, I reached a door marked with a nondescript label. This should be where the Radicals were holding Emma. Carefully turning the handle, I quickly translated a soundproof movement.
The door to the clean room slid open silently as I entered, my senses still on high alert. The stark whiteness of the room contrasted sharply with the darkness of the corridors I’d just navigated, and a chill ran down my spine as I took in the sterile surroundings. My eyes quickly scanned the space, searching for any sign of Emma.
My gaze landed first on the empty chair, surrounded by slashed pieces of rope, where she had clearly been held against her will and my jaw tightened.
It was only then I noticed two Radicals bleeding out on the floor and pride surged through me like never before. My Emma. She was a fucking force to be reckoned with—there was no holding her back and I was so fucking proud I had helped unleash her.
My eyes zoomed in on a medical tray and a humongous quantity of medical instruments scattered over the floor;syringes, scalpels and shit I didn’t even recognize. The room clearly carried the memories of her struggle and an invisible thread seemed to connect me to the terror she must have felt. She had obviously fought back with all she could find but why the hell hadn’t she portaled her way out?
The realization she had been confined here, subjected to whatever experiments they had in mind, fueled the growing rage within me. The sight of the tools that had been used on her, instruments meant to pry into the very core of her being, unhinged me and I nearly lost it.
I swore then and there every single one of her attackers, every man or woman who had dared to touch her, who was responsible for even a scratch on that beautiful body of hers, would die an agonizing death at my hands. They had sealed their fate when they laid a hand on what was mine.
I would kill them slowly, exercising a form of torture and revenge, even mythical monsters would deem “too bloody” for their taste. And I would fucking revel in it.
My hands clenched into fists as I fought tooth and nail to maintain composure. I had to keep my focus on finding her first and rescuing her from this nightmarish scenario—one I had promised I would always keep her safe from.
