Blood drips down my fists, leaving a crimson trail in my wake.
Michael follows silently, a raised gun clutched in his palms. Even though I can't see him directly, I know he's staring at me. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing on end, but not from the danger.
Curiosity twinkled in his eyes before, especially when I punched through the intruder's stomach so hard I touched his spinal cord. When I ripped it out and tossed it to the side, the other intruders descended on us in a flood.
Dozens of people dressed from head to toe in black rushed us. Wearing the same gear as the man from before, they're darkness moving. Ski masks, gloves, kevlar, cargo pants and steel toe boots—all black—with night vision goggles.
In this bubble of comfort, I've forgotten how the wolves will always descend. I've gotten too lax, and now, we're suffering the consequences. I hope Charlie and Chris come back soon.
While I know Michael and I can handle this, having backup would be great. Then maybe I won't feel so horrible about not feeling horrible about being covered in someone's bodily fluid. Glancing down at my crimson hands, I ready myself for the onslaught of attackers.
They came from the stairs, down the hall, and dropped in from the second floor. Smoke grenades erupt in a flurry of flashes. Michael dove away, quickly closing his hands around his ears and doing his best to moderate his breathing. Briefly, I throw a look his way, but he can't see me through the fog.
Sadly for them, the smoke grenades don't work on me.
Iris' calm, meditative voice announces the number of attackers while my system catalogs them rapidly. They are taller than me, but shorter than Michael, with burly arms and mountains of well-trained muscle. Their swagger exposes them as overly confident.
After all, who would be worried about one woman and one man against a dozen of well-trained fighters?
They'll learn their lesson—one at a time. I'll be the consummate teacher. Offering to help them learn about the dangers of soft tissue and how quickly their lives can end, but I won't be too rough.
Something in the recess of my mind disagrees. It wants out. To rage and destroy and make them rue the day they came after me.
Silently, I agree to show leniency.
Well, I considered mercy until Michael coughed.
It was a ragged sound, drowned out by shouting and stomping footsteps. Yet, I'd heard it as if he were next to me instead of across the room. My control and neatly organized thoughts went to shit.
Something inside of me snapped—tore into a million pieces and kept tearing without yield. Darkness wasn't something I saw in the night air. It was within me, too, unfurling like spilled ink on paper. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do to stop it.
The natural blue of my system slowly went lost color to a crisp black and white, then bled to yellow and orange before becoming as vermilion as the blood on the floor. Then, my body moved on its own. I attacked with a ferocity I didn't know I possessed.
Two intruders stand near the open doorway, guns raised and pointed in my direction. Sadly, it doesn't help. I hit them hard.
The first takes my fist to his face. A sickening crunch echoes as his skull caves in. His friend shouts, but I don't care to analyze his language. Instead, I round on him and sweep his feet out from under him.
Gunfire rattles as he falls backward. His gun swings upward and bullets cut through the second floor. He's heaving an angry breath and struggles to remove his finger from the trigger. Was he an amateur?
Always keep your finger off the trigger until you're ready to pull it.
With a dull thud, he hits the ground—head first. The gun heaves again, spattering the wall above me. Quickly, I snatch the AK out of his hands and shatter it in my hands.
Pieces of black metal and unspent ammunition fall to the floor like rain. Mouth agape, he stares but says nothing. The last sound he makes is a dark gurgle before I put my boot through his chest cavity.
It caves in as two more materialize from the shadows.
They've watched me move, and don't hesitate to pull the trigger. Each time I'm struck, a pinch of pain translates to my brain, but it doesn't slow me down. With the netting underneath my skin, I'm completely protected and the nanites are moving three times faster than normal, riding the adrenaline pumping through me.
I'm more machine than human.
A grin works its way across my mouth as I close the distance between us. Like a predatory, I hunt them. There is no fear in me and no worry.
Vehemently, I yank the intruder on the right toward me by his gun. Its firing stutters as he screams, but I snuff out of his life with a hand to his throat. Tossing his head over my shoulder, I slam a hand against the other intruder's head and split it open.
Blood explodes across me, bathing me from head to toe. I must be a frightening thing to behold. Three others move into the corridor, but stop when they catch sight of me.
Cursing, they retreat.
It's a trap. They want to draw me into the main space and catch me with some kind of netting. It's their last play and it won't work.
Patiently, I wait until they disappear around the corner before turning to find Michael. He's killed one and holds his gun in his hands. Worry crinkles the skin around his eyes, but hasn't spoken yet.
Like the wings of a hummingbird, his heart thrums in his chest. Sweat drips down his temples, slicking his auburn hair to his head, and lower, to the neck of his t-shirt. The thin material molds to his well made chest.
He's a delicious specimen of a man. I shouldn't want to fuck him, too, but I do. I want to see what would make this man lose his mind.
"You know we're going to have to talk about what you just did, right?" He pants, raising an eyebrow. Rapidly, his chest expands as he sucks in deep gulps of air. "You took down four men in less than two minutes and don't have a scratch on you."
"Don't ask a question you don't want to hear the answer to." I caution, backing out of the room.
He follows, keeping pace with me as I round the corner and head for the back set of stairs to the second floor. The trap they've planned will only work if the four men upstairs are ready. On the first floor, the men who I saw will serve as bait.
I'm primed and ready.
There's an acrid taste on my tongue—like acid mixed with ashes. Every time I take a breath, it flares to life. No warning lights or alarms sound in my head, and I know I am not injured.
Though I know something is dreadfully wrong.
As we move further down the corridor, the moon's light haunts the windows. We step lightly, moving within the pockets of shadows in a low crouch. An oppressive silence blankets us, and I long for the connection with Michael that I share with Chris and Charlie.
If he were augmented, we'd move with the same pattern easily. There would be no thoughts and no confusion, only confidence. Nearing the end of the hall, I angle myself in front of Michael to protect him, but his voice hisses out in anger.
"What the hell are you doing?" He moves to my side, gun trained up and eyes climbing our surroundings. "I'm to protect you, remember?"
"I can protect myself," I say drily. "It's you who needs looking after."
He scowls at me. "I don't have whatever it is you have. Unless you're some kind of supernatural creature?"
Slowly, I turn to catch his gaze. Hadn't we discussed my augmentation? I can't remember what we have or haven't discussed. There's so much static in my mind.
I'm consumed with ending the threat and getting out of here as soon as possible. I send a request to Iris to get us extraction by any means necessary. Her soft voice warbles back.
She's let Chris and Charlie both know what's going on and they're heading in our direction and there's a jet heading our way, too. We need to neutralize the threat and get out of here. Though, with Michael being so exposed, I'm keen to simply leave the house and let the idiots downstairs come face-to-face with a pair of livid augmented men.
"Why, yes, Michael, I'm sorry I didn't tell you I turn into a werewolf."
He rolls his eyes. "You could start with the truth."
Shuffling pulls my attention away from him and I slip forward, using a reflection in the windows to look on the other side. Two of the four men on the second floor are peering over the banister downstairs. They're whispering into their comms, and are arguing about who's going to come find me.
They've been ordered not to hurt me, but the same isn't said for Michael. He's to be restrained, if possible, and killed, if not. As if I'd let them hurt a single hair on his head.
"Alright," I mutter, turning to find Michael's green eyes glaring out of a window behind us. "We'll need to split u—"
"That's unnecessary." He cuts me off. "We've got back-up."
Lifting my head, I follow Michael's line of sight outside. Eyes burning so bright they glow like the stars, Chris stares into the house. A second later, our link expands in my head.
It's a burst of emotion so intense I close my hands around my head and grunt a curse. It's not just Chris here. Charlie has come. And they are brimming with barely concealed fury.
"Get down." He mouths at me.
I shake my head. "I can handle this."
His eyes narrow dangerously as his head tilts. When he's fucking me later, I'll pay for not listening to him, but the consequences don't make me falter. I want him to fuck me into next week.
If he wanted to take care of this, he should have been here earlier. As it is, Michael and I were forced to defend ourselves. I won't apologize for saving our lives.
He steps closer to the window, gaze scorching mine. Again, his lips part and he mouths a command. "Put your hands on your eyes with your head down. You're done."
"And if I don't?" I dare ask.
The smile he gives reminds me of Charlie. Sarcastic, twisted and salacious, wrapped into one. My head skips a beat as my panties get wet.
Whatever he's thinking, I want to be into it, especially as lust tugs our link. It's still bathed in ferocity, but he wants to bend me over something and fuck me good. Normally, I'd bow down and let him. Yet, I can't shake this adrenaline pounding through my veins.
Stubbornly, I ignore his command and dart around the corner.
The two waiting are easily dispatched. They go down in silence, losing their throats as I tear them out. In unison, they fall to the floor like stones and don't move again.
I attack the first of the last two. Michael grabs the other, lining up his hands around the man's neck before turning roughly. With a pair of soft cracks, we're down nine with three to go.
Charlie gets to them before we do. He carves his way through the bottom floor with a gleaming machete. The moon's light reflects off of it as he swings it in the air.
Gunshots power toward him, but like me, he doesn't flinch nor dodge. They strike him in the head, neck, shoulders and chest, but the netting doesn't fail. With begging and pleading, the intruders fall before him.
I'm halfway down the stairs, Michael trailing me, when Chris' massive frame blocks us. His hand cuffs my throat and he pushes me against the wall. I'm in trouble.
Trouble, I hope ends with his dick inside me.
"Why the fuck are you covered in blood, Blue?"
"Because people are filled with it." I say, smiling annoyingly wide. "I can't help it if they're messy when they die."
His expression twists, and he looks away from me briefly, studying Michael. "What happened?"
"She killed them," Michael answers for me.
"How many?"
"More than I did."
Chris turns back to me, his hand still holding my neck. "Tell me what happened, Blue."
"He just did. They broke in and we got rid of them."
"Iris?" He calls. "Is there any footage of what transpired here tonight?"
"It is limited, but there is footage obtained from the first floor in the main corridor."
He's staring at me when he says, "Send it to the main living room. I need to see it."
"What?" Joking, I shoulder past his the second his hand frees me. "You're acting like you've seen a ghost."
"Not a ghost," he mutters, and I know he doesn't expect me to hear, "but the look on your face isn't the Blue I know and love."