Page 128 of Hunted to Be Mine
“Down!” I shouted. Selina crawled behind a low control panel—meager cover, but better than nothing.
He advanced, legs faltering between steps, trigger finger twitching without committing. Fighting himself.
I waited out his cadence, counting the beats of his approach, listening for the telltale pause. There. I leaned out and sent two rounds, forcing him back. Sparks jumped behind him.
The current thundered beneath us, nearly drowning thought. The grating shook, every step a risk on frozen steel.
“Wolfe!” Selina called, barely carrying over the noise. “He’s fighting it! Something’s wrong with his conditioning!”
She huddled behind the panel, cast tucked in, face pale, eyes bright and working. My chest tightened with the need to keep her breathing.
“The control room,” I called, pointing to a door at the far end. “Move.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
He appeared through the haze, gait halting. His left arm jerked as he lifted the weapon, as if something inside had tried to knock his aim aside.
Three quick shots from me. He ducked behind a junction box. “Now, Selina.”
She rose and ran low for the side door. I kept him pinned, watching her progress from the edge of my sightline.
He came out firing with lethal accuracy. A round tore my sleeve, heat grazing skin. Another hit the pipe above Selina, flooding the span with a new cloud that hid her for a beat.
“The Director requires termination of… of assets,” he called, the words warped.
Back to the column. I listened. The steam blinded us both.
“He reset you,” I said, drawing his focus. “Like he tried to reset me. It’s failing, isn’t it?”
A shot went wide. “I’m… operational.”
“Then why the glitches? Why can’t you take a clean shot?”
Through a break in the haze, Selina came into view. She’d reached the door and fought the wheel with one hand. Her cast thumped metal as she tried to crank it.
Rounds struck the railing. Selina flinched behind me. Her breath hitched, either fear or pain.
“We have to move,” I called.
He pressed through the fog. I answered with more fire, driving him behind a concrete pillar. Through the gray, I saw Selina still at the door.
“It’s locked!” she shouted, wrestling the wheel. Her cast knocked the metal again.
Two more rounds to cover her. My magazine felt light. Four left. Maybe five. I tracked his shots—he’d need to reload soon too.
“The valve,” I called, pointing to a red wheel by the door. “Clockwise.”
She left the wheel and grabbed the valve, straining. Metal groaned. Then a heavy clunk. The lock released.
My final shot pinged off the pipe above his cover as she slipped into the room. He fired twice; both went wide.
Click.
Faint under the roar, but recognizable. His magazine was empty. I squeezed the trigger.
Click.
Both of us were dry. For a beat, we held each other’s gaze across the chamber.
