said, her voice low.
The rosy color drained from Trista’s face.
“Tell the others, and tell them to stay put. Do so quietly.”
“Okay,” Trista mouthed. She turned right at the T-section, rushing toward the living quarters.
Ellyssa stayed still, listening to Trista’s footfalls. They seemed to thunder down the rocky corridor, every step sounding louder than the last. She was glad the detective’s ears weren’t as sensitive as hers.
A few moments later, the cavern quieted, until the only sound was the soft dripping of water. Ellyssa turned her attention to what lay outside the Renegades’ asylum, listening for any movement or voice from above. So far, nothing. She didn’t know whether or not that was good.
Woody rounded the corner and came to her side; his weapon was locked and loaded. “Anything?” he whispered in her ear.
Ellyssa shook her head.
Woody flipped his chin in understanding and remained still as a statue as they waited. His stealthy ability impressed her. He was a natural, and she wondered what he could’ve accomplished if he had received the same rigorous schooling she had.
Silent milliseconds stretched into the past. The waiting grated on Ellyssa’s nerves. She was unused to standing around delaying the inevitable. She wanted to act, to attack, to render the danger harmless. Doing so put the her whole family in danger.
Antsy, Ellyssa closed her eyes and lowered her shield. Community voices immediately bombarded her, shouting in her brain. Voices filled with panic and fear. Too much. Her stomach rolled, and she raised her protection, blocking the onslaught.
She opened her eyes to Woody, who was frowning, his mouth drawn quizzically to the side. She leaned closer to him.
“I am trying to get a read on her.”
He nodded.
“I will try again.”
“Try concentrating just on her. Like you did with me,” he suggested in her ear.
“That was different. There is too many voices down here.”
“You can do it,” Woody whispered. His warm breath brushed against her hair, and his whiskers rubbed against her cheek, sending a pleasant shiver reminiscent of Rein.
At the thought of Rein, Ellyssa’s heart squeezed, painfully. She missed him, his eyes, his lips, his gentle touch. Since Woody had returned, she had barely given Rein a thought. Everything had whirled into action so fast. She felt guilty, as if she’d betrayed him, by putting him aside, even though he would’ve understood. Under the same set of circumstances, he’d have done the same.
Saddened by the image of Rein and worried beyond belief, Ellyssa pulled away from Woody, her eyes on the floor. She had to do this for Rein. She had to succeed.
Pulling in a deep breath and releasing it through her nose, Ellyssa prepared herself for the assault of thoughts. Lowering her shield, she was immediately bombarded, images and words and feelings slamming into her. Her head thumped, but she didn’t care.
Rein strengthened her.
Gritting her teeth, Ellyssa’s face scrunched in concentration. Voices echoed in her mind, panicky and scared. She pictured her stone shield, and the voices faded. Stone by stone, she reconstructed her defenses, reinforcing each section. In the middle of the barrier, she placed a metal door that swiveled on hinges. The voices were immediately silenced.
In her mind’s eye, she approached the gateway and rested her palm against the cool metal. She pushed it open an inch. Thoughts rushed through, like water over a broken dam. She stepped back, letting the door swing shut.
She’d have to try another way.
Ellyssa directed her focus on the female
With the image of Detective Petersen strongly in her mind, Ellyssa reached out and opened the door again. Much to her relief, the voices of the inhabitants were muffled, indistinct, and easily ignored. She slipped through the crack, directing her flow through the tunnels of the mine, down one corridor after another, searching and feeling for the distinct electrical pulse.
Her limits thinning, Ellyssa reached further, until suddenly she felt the detective. It was like hitting a wall, one second flowing, the next, an instant stop. Ellyssa clenched her jaw and fortified her connection with the detective as if joined by a wire, mind to mind. When she felt certain the link was sturdy, she opened the gate wider, and let the images flow.
Pictures poured into her quickly as if the detective’s mind was working in overdrive. One image shifted to another, as Detective Petersen’s eyes soaked in the surroundings with a high-powered flashlight. She was skittish, and every noise tweaked her senses.
Stronger emotions swirled within The Center’s employee. Deadly ones. Criminals harbored such feelings. As a new and improved citizen, the detective shouldn’t be experiencing such useless sensations; the genes responsible should have been detected.
Jealousy, shame, and resentment rolled through the detective, as if the blood in her body carried them like a disease, and the effect increased when her thoughts shifted to any of The Center’s children, especially Ellyssa. Her hatred for Ellyssa ran deep and wide, cutting a canyon through her mind.
Angela also kept thinking about the gun strapped to her ankle. Time and time again, her thoughts drifted to standing over Ellyssa, watching a pool of blood spread beneath her, turning her hair crimson.
“What was that?” a male asked, his voice clear in the detective’s head, along with his image as she turned to look at him.
The captain from Woody’s memory stood before Detective Petersen, only she now beheld a clearer picture of the man’s physique, the curvature of his lean body and the chiseled features of his face.
The detective wondered if the captain—Dyllon was apparently his name—would still have her back if the operation finished in bloodshed. She questioned his loyalty, especially after they had captured the ranger. The image of the male Ellyssa didn’t know wavered in the detective’s thoughts, beaten, bloody and dead. Dyllon had fought against the male’s torture. He just didn’t understand, his stomach too weak. Resentment for the captain bloomed within the detective.
“Shh,” she hissed.
A groan resonated in the darkness, that of a suffering animal…or a human. Something was hurt. Sweeping her flashlight in broad arcs, the detective followed the sound down one passageway into another.
Ellyssa watched as they approached the entrance to Jason’s room. She’d hoped Jason would’ve passed out from the pain and been overlooked. His groans echoed in the small enclosure.
Realizing she was powerless to stop them or help Jason, regret pulled on Ellyssa’s attention, and the barricade weakened. The voices of her newfound family banged against the imaginary wall, growing in volume as Detective Petersen’s mind began to fade.
Ellyssa couldn’t fail. Regardless of what she’d become since she’d fled, she was a soldier. Only instead of destroying lives, she was going to protect them. Steadying herself, Ellyssa reinforced the barrier. The connection with the detective strengthened.
Detective Petersen maneuvered to one side of the entrance as the captain swung to the other. Without a word, she barged in, her light arcing along the blackened walls.
Nothing.
She was about to back out when the moan, clear and loud and definitely human, sounded. Slowly, she lowered the beam onto the floor, and the wide cone of light revealed a rumpled blanket.
“Cover me,” she ordered.
Dyllon stayed in the background while she advanced, stopping whenever the lump moved. Her electroshock weapon leveled, the detective reached down and yanked the cover away.
