Page 120 of The Firebrand
Hisfreronsshot looks at each other and at Rein as if he’d lost it.
“Saddle up, warriors.” Kole clapped a massive hand on Rein’s shoulder to thundering shouts and weapons pounded against shields.
Whoop! Whoop!
Rein linked with his D-chip’s GPS, pulling on the thread that was Braelyn. As she targeted him, he stormed outside to cast his own portal, the others on his six.
****
Reinplanted his boots in the middle of a giant circular room. Scion Firebrands crashed inside, their shitkickers pounding the concrete as they poured into the stockade. A lone demon jolted up from a desk just in time to feel the bite of Chay’s throwing star slice into his throat, rendering him silent and dead.
Guards streamed in from adjacent rooms. Hisfreronssquared off against them or divvied up to take one of three wings that branched off from the central space, each lined with cells holding captives.
Rein raced to the corridor on his left. Bolting along the hallway, he peeked into each cell. Screams. Whimpers. Cries for help. Humans, but no Braelyn.
A familiar voice and unforgettable scent called to him. “Rein.” Retracing his steps, he footed it into another arm of the building.
There she was, her hand clasping the front of a blood-soaked, ripped top. He swiped a palm across his jaw.
Fuck. Get a grip.
He sauntered up to her, white-knuckling the iron bars, steadying his thundering heart. “Brae.”
She nodded, silent, wet droplets streaming down her cheeks. She mopped them up, her defiant chin tilting up. “What took you so long?”
If she could sass, she was okay, but he inspected her anyway. His gaze crawled up her body, landing on her jaw. He swallowed a growl. “You’re hurt.”
Silas is a dead man walking.
She gulped back tears, smiling. “Not as bad as I could be. The face welt is thanks to Aisen.”
Rein added him to the list of limping dead.
“Go do what you do. A lot of people here need help.”
“Stay put while we sweep the place.”
She wrapped her hands around Rein’s fists on the bars. “Do I have a choice?”
“No.” Rein twisted toward her before he left. “Are crotchless panties what I think they are? Never mind.”
Braelyn slumped to the floor, cross-legged, her shoulders settling with a breathy sigh.
When Rein started down the corridor, two beefy sloth demons charged him. He pivoted toward them, his legs ajar, a combat blade in each hand. With no hesitation, he jabbed a blade into the redheaded male’s chest, kicking him to the side while he taunted the other guard. “Come meet your fate, asshole.” He waved his other knife to motion him forward.
The shorter demon whirled in the other direction, foot up, ready to run. Before he could, Rein jumped into the air, tackling him. Avoiding the claws that were the fast-track to a stupor, he dragged his blade through the demon’s neck, decapping the asshole.
The red-haired guard pulled Rein’s blade out. Struggling to push up from the floor, he pleaded for his life.
Rein gazed down at him, smiled, and flicked a wrist. The demon smashed into the wall. With barely a wave of his hand, Rein tore off the guard’s arm. Then the other one. Both legs were next.
Braelyn’s soft voice crept into his brain. “Stop.”
He ignored it and buried his stiletto in the limbless male’s gut, twisting it.
“Enough,” her gentle voice urged.
Long after the guard had stopped breathing, he dragged his weapon from sternum to groin. “Now it’s enough.”
