Page 36 of Alien Devil's Wrath
“I don’t understand?—”
“Don’t play stupid.” He dragged me from the cell, and I let myself stumble, playing the frightened prisoner. “Your partner is here. These flying things are yours too, aren’t they?”
I whimpered, the sound pathetic and false, but he was too angry to notice the performance.
We moved through the chaos of the detention level. Guards ran in every direction, some heading up to fight the Gravewings, others rushing toward the sounds of combat from the main corridor. Nobody knew which threat to prioritize.
“Interrogation room,” Slade barked at his guards. “It’s reinforced. We hold there until?—”
A Gravewing burst through a ventilation grate ahead of us, all wings and talons and screaming fury. It took one look at the bright emergency lights and attacked the nearest moving thing—one of Slade’s guards.
The man screamed as talons raked across his face. His rifle discharged into the ceiling, the sound deafening in the enclosed space. The other guard tried to help, but the Gravewing’s wing caught him across the chest, sending him into the wall.
Slade shot the Gravewing twice, the creature dropping in a spray of dark blood. He turned back to me, face twisted in rage.
“You did this.”
“I’m just a guide,” I whispered, cowering back. “Please, I don’t know what’s happening.”
He grabbed my throat, slamming me against the wall. For a moment, his mask slipped, and I saw what Zarek had seen—a man who enjoyed causing pain.
“When I’m done with him,” Slade said softly, “I’m going to take my time with you.”
Heavy footsteps echoed from the main corridor. Not running. Walking. Deliberate. Measured. Patient.
Slade’s hand tightened on my throat, then released. He dragged me toward a side corridor, away from those measured footsteps.
“Move,” he snarled at his remaining guard.
But I’d heard those footsteps. I knew that gait.
My Vinduthi was coming, and he was done being subtle.
We rounded a corner into a wider corridor. Dead end except for a reinforced door marked “Authorized Personnel Only.” Slade swiped his keycard, dragging me through into what looked like a command center—monitors, control panels, rack of weapons on the wall.
“Seal it,” he ordered the guard.
The door locked, heavy mechanical sounds indicating multiple fail-safes engaging. Reinforced steel, probably blast-resistant. A good panic room if you were the type to panic.
Slade moved to the monitors, pulling up security feeds. Half showed static—the Gravewings had destroyed those cameras. Others showed guards fighting desperately against the aerial assault. And one showed the main detention corridor.
Zarek stood in the center of the frame, surrounded by bodies. His grey skin was splattered with blood, none of it his. He held a guard by the throat, feet dangling, then tossed him aside like discarded trash.
He looked directly at the camera, and even through the monitor, that predator gaze burned with purpose.
Then he started walking toward this room.
“He knows I’m here,” I said softly, dropping the frightened act. No point anymore. “He can probably smell me through the ventilation.”
Slade spun to stare at me.
The corners of my mouth twitched up.
“Did you really think leaving him alive was clever?” I kept my tone light, almost curious. “You basically lit a fuse and walked away. Now you get to see what happens when it reaches the explosive.”
The lights went out again. This time, emergency power didn’t come back immediately.
In the darkness, I heard Slade’s breathing quicken. The guard cursed, fumbling for a flashlight.
