Keith looks up from his hands and knees, face a mottled mess, and his eyes find me. Not Rex.
Me.
And despite everything, including the gun in my hand and the alpha who just crushed his windpipe standing three feet away, an ugly sneer curls his lips. That same look from the party. That same sick, appraising sweep he's just incapable of shutting off because it's coded into his rotten fucking DNA.
His eyes drop to my chest where the binder has shifted.
His mouth opens and he lunges for his gun.
I fire before I even realize what the fuck I'm doing. The recoil kicks up my arms. The shot cracks through the corridor. Keith screams and his hands fly to his crotch as he doubles over sideways, both legs clamping together, blood already blooming through his fingers and further darkening the front of his expensive suit pants.
He staggers upright through sheer adrenaline.
Lurches left.
Lurches right.
Then he runs.
Hobbles, really. A lopsided, bow-legged shamble down the corridor, one hand mashed between his thighs, trailing a thin line of blood behind him. The other guard runs, too.
I blow across the muzzle of my gun the way cowboys do in old westerns.
"Oops."
Rex stares at me. "You are," he says flatly, his mouth twitching, "themost unhinged fucking person I have ever met."
"Coming fromyou?" I flip the gun in my hand, catch the grip, and flick the safety on. "I'll take that as a compliment."
He snorts and keeps moving up the hall.
"You know," I say, trotting after him, "we really missed our calling as a spec ops squad."
Rex's head whips toward me. "No."
"Why not? We've got the body count."
"Because I am trying to get youout of this buildingand you are treating it like a fuckingvideo game?—"
“So you admit you're being protective of me?”
"Move."
I move, grinning.
When he reaches the service exit the guards were blocking, he pushes down on the bar handle, but it's locked. He lets out a frustrated snarl and slams his shoulder against the door, hard enough to make him stagger.
"Shit," I mutter, leaning in. "It's welded shut."
"I kicked a door in," Rex says, stepping back and planting his foot. "I'll do it again."
"Aweldedone?" I ask him.
His eye flicks to me. The one I can see, anyway. He's still managing to keep himself at angles where I can't see the scarred side when I'm not actively making up for his blind spot.
"Look," I press, pointing to a thick rope of melted steel lining the entire border of the door. "We're not getting through this.However you got into the opera house, that asshole prepared this section."
"Let me try."