Made By Design (Blood Bound Series Book 2) (44 page)

Shit.
We hadn’t expected an instant security check.

Down the gravel path, Troy struggled to keep the second guard under control. He had one hand over the guy’s mouth to keep him quiet. Still with one free hand the guard lashed out with everything he had.

“Once we’re inside,” Dorian rushed on. “You will resume your post, and voice your security check.”

He released the guard and we ran at Troy. But it was too late. The guard managed to tug free his gun and unloaded a shot into Troy’s side. Troy knocked the gun to the ground and went to swing. Before he hit, I leapt onto his back, pulling at his punch-ready arm with all my might.

Dorian shot in front of Troy just in time, covering the guard’s mouth with his hand. “Stop fighting and don’t scream for help.” The guard’s flailing arms dropped to his sides and Dorian removed the cover over his mouth. “Tell me the code to access the back door.”

“Three, two, nine, six, eight, one,” he mumbled, eyes rolling like marbles.

More checks rang out over the radio.
‘Station ten secure, over…’

“We’re running out of time.” Troy continued to struggle against me, and damn was he strong. In less than a second he’d have his arm back and would be bludgeoning the guard to a bloody pulp. “You can’t leave a mark,” I hissed. “It will only jeopardize Ty.” Feeling his fight subside I released his arms, shoved him to the door, and punched in the code.

“You heard and saw nothing,” Dorian said as the door clicked open. “Resume your post in three seconds.”

With that Dorian shot like a flash, swooping up Troy’s gun and entering the building after us. The door closed behind him with a distinct click of the lock. Then one of the guards completed the security check. A short burst of static followed, then the control guard’s voice.
‘Exiting post to reboot cameras. Repeat security check in three minutes.’

“Get it out!” Troy slammed back against the stone wall while something sizzled. He tore open his suit, exposing his chest and stomach.

I stood frozen before Troy, my stare locked on the bullet hole seeping sweet, delicious blood. With my fangs long and throbbing, I bit my tongue, hard. The taste of my own blood filled my mouth, but did nothing to cull my desire. The one thing that distracted my hunger was that sizzling. It was coming from the blood-gurgling hole in his side.

I tore my gaze away. The corridor was dark, scarcely lit by dim red bulbs. One marked the doorway and another sat above the bend ahead, which Dorian was striding toward.

Troy grunted, stealing my focus. Excruciation scrunched his hard face. But I couldn’t remove the bullet. If I did, the outcome was set. Already the images were toying with my mind. Me, nails puncturing his sides while I lapped up that shiny red torrent. “I—I can’t. You have to…”

With a glare, Troy shoved two fingers inside the hole and dug around. Then he cursed, ripping his prodding fingers free. Through the blood coating his digits the smell of singed flesh lifted in the air. “I can’t touch it. It’s charmed. Probably engraved with some anti-wolf and damned symbol. You have to get it out.”

I wanted to help. Really I did. And I wanted to stop that flow of tempting crimson. I pulled my gloves back on, but I still couldn’t do it. The temptation to turn Troy into an evening meal while forgetting our plans to save Ty was something I couldn’t risk. “Troy, I…”

Dorian appeared right beside me and dropped his backpack with a clatter. “Stand still,” he hissed at Troy. His silvery gaze fell to the gurgling blood leaking from Troy’s ribs. Then his hand rose, shaking with strain. The torrent slowed, the leaking turning off like a tap. Then it receded, climbing back up Troy’s side and disappearing into the bullet hole. “Now,” he said, glancing at me. “Take out the bullet.” As I went to argue he pinned me with a firm stare. “No, I can’t do both. And it’s silver since they’re armed for the damned.”

Struck by his harsh tone, my gloved hand shot out, fingers plunging in deep. Inside the squishy wetness, I found the solid cylindrical bullet. Pinched the sides, and pulled. A muted grunt escaped Troy as I fell back on my butt.

The retracting hold Dorian had on Troy’s blood released and a fresh stream spilled out. “About time,” Troy snapped.

I scrambled back, hitting the opposing wall, fixated as the leaking blood slowed and the wound began to heal.

“We don’t have time for this.” Dorian grabbed the backpack and my hand and dragged me down the corridor.

Looking back I saw Troy taking after us while covering the wound by re-buttoning his suit. A twist to the left then another to the right had us as close to the security control room as we could get without being seen. It was a square room bordered by four walls of clear glass. It was also at the epicenter of the corridor we stood in as well as three other corridors that met in the middle.

The next phase of our plan was to restrain the guard, long enough for Dorian to compel him to believe we were here to collect the prisoner for execution. Troy appearing as Caius would make the task easier.

Footsteps echoed from one of the forking corridors. Then a guard appeared, about to enter the glass room when he stalled. His chin lifted and he drew in a testing breath through his nose.

Something nudged me in the ribs. I turned to see Dorian pointing to the bloodstains still wet across Troy’s suit. I could smell it too, had been able to smell the provoking scent since the wound was inflicted. Troy may have been marked to have his scent blocked. But that clearly didn’t cover spilled blood. Now this small overlook was about to cost us our cover.

The guard peered up the dark corridor in our direction. One hand found the gun at his belt, and the other located his radio. He stepped forward, lifting the radio to his mouth…

Troy whipped past so fast I couldn’t track him. A split second later he’d collided with the guy to drive him back against the glass wall. A crack shattered one whole glass panel, the shards falling like red diamonds.

Dorian and I ran forward, but it was too late. Troy battered his fists into the guard’s face, turning it black and blue. The guy slumped into unconsciousness, falling slack over the glittering shards of shattered glass across the control boards.

When my hand found Troy’s shoulder he staggered back, releasing his fist from the guy’s shirt. “What the hell did you do?”

Still red with the flush of attack and the lighting of red bulbs, Troy glared at me with gold-rippling eyes. “What I had to.”

On his other side Dorian fished into his black backpack, creating a clatter of musical noise. Then he reared and handed an armful of iron circlets to Troy. “Hurry up and get these on him.”

I had noticed the backpack outside, but had assumed it was filled with weapons and things we could use. Not these… “What are you doing?”

Troy began unclipping the circlets and fastening them around the unconscious guard’s wrists and ankles. “Restraining him.”

“I suppose there are chains in that bag too, then?” I directed my accusing glare from the bag and up to Dorian.

His face cracked. It almost looked like he was about to laugh, but then though better of it. Clearing his throat he said, “The bands will do enough. They’re inscribed. See…” He pointed to the last circlet as Troy clipped it around the guard’s neck. Each band was engraved with symbols, some repeating and others individual.

“What will they do?”

Troy stepped back and dusted off his hands. “The ones on his wrists and ankles will keep him immobile. The one around his neck will stop him from breathing a single word.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Had they both conspired to have this happen? Had this been the plan all along? I huffed and ran a hand over my face then glanced down at the lifeless guard. “Now how is he going to initiate the next security check that was…” My accusing glare lifted to Troy. “Oh I don’t know, supposed to be happening right now?”

Troy ignored my look and smiled with self-satisfaction. “Like this…”

A succession of cracks erupted with his resetting bones. His entire form melted, shrinking in size and stature. When the transformation was complete, what stood before me was not at all what I expected. Still covered in the suit, which had complimented his tall and broad stature, was a much smaller and more wiry figure. His face now perfectly matched the unconscious guard draped across the control board.

In his new skin, Troy reached out and unclipped the radio transmitter from the guard and pressed the intercom button. Then in a voice that matched the person we’d heard over the intercom earlier, he said, “Control room. Cameras up. Check one.”

After a torturous second that seemed to stretch on forever, static crackled over the line. Then the first of the checks rang through the speaker. With a dizzying sigh, I allowed myself to breathe. “That was too close.”

Troy smiled with cocky confidence. “But it worked.” He dragged the unconscious guard from the control board and propped him against the far wall.

In the meantime, Dorian had moved into the glass room. With a sweeping hand he brushed the glass shards from the many screens that surrounded the horseshoe-shaped desk. To my right were screens covering the council property’s perimeter. Right in front of me six screens overlooked various angles of the main hall. The space was packed. Every seat in the house was taken and not an inch of floor space was left visible. Font rows were occupied by the pristine dressed. They sported lavish gowns, expensive suits, and jewelry that sparkled under the chandelier’s candlelight. These attendees had to be extended family to the royals in power.

An elevated dais had been erected before the crowd. Each reigning royal occupied one of the seven wooden and velvet-swathed thrones. Caius took up the center position being the eldest. Uriel and Serafina flanked him, and Marcus being the youngest but not yet sworn in, was positioned at the last throne to the left. Before them was my double. The resemblance was flawless, a perfect mirror image.

“Damn,” Dorian said. “I can see how Ty was tricked.”

I flinched, a flash of her wearing my appearance beneath Ty invading my thoughts. “Don’t remind me.”

Kendrick stood to the side of the dais, having been commissioned by his mother to lead any rituals that were to take place. His relief at where we were was stained by urgency.

How long do we have?
I sent out the silent words to my best friend.

His gaze shifted sideways to Caius.
You’ve got fifteen, maybe twenty minutes before the ceremony concludes and the guards are sent to retrieve Ty.

Fifteen minutes…
Thanks to Marcus we’d seen the blueprints. Though we still had to get down another level, and through one guarded and locked door to gain access to the lower prison cells. If that wasn’t already enough, once we found him, we still had to steal a key to unlock Ty’s cell. Then we had to break through his shackles and get the hell out. All this without raising any alarm to notify The Council straight above our heads of our actions. It was almost impossible. But it was our only hope.

“We’ve got fifteen minutes,” I said, determination edging my words. With the limited time we would have to act fast and be ruthless. Compelling our way through the blocks was no longer an option. “When we reach the block I need you both to incapacitate the guard. Fast.”

Dorian, who had been kneeling before me, rose. In his hand was a pile of folded black material. “There’s another way.”

In seconds, Dorian and I stripped off our own clothes and yanked on the spare guard uniforms. The uniforms matched the guards’ outfits outside and had belts with loops for holding stakes, a loop to sheath a sword or thick knife, plus holsters at each hip to carry a gun. A few strapped holsters to hold daggers from Dorian’s backpack were concealed at our shins. My whip clipped onto a loop at the small of my back.

With Dorian and I armed and dressed the part, and Troy the spitting image of Caius, we set off. A flight of stairs down and a turn to the left led us to our block. One guard was seated by a solid iron door. Above him was a blinking surveillance camera that we’d managed to turn off at the switchboard.

As we approached, the guard stood to attention then frowned and glanced at his watch. “Is it time already?”

Troy with Caius’s set expression tipped his head. “It is.”

The guard stepped aside, resuming his seat and burying his nose back into the pages of a magazine. Behind where he’d been standing was a touchpad attached to the wall. It was black with a blue-lit screen, and two solid red lights set into the black metal covering.

Troy threw a quick sidelong look my way then stepped forward. His thumb planted over the screen. A chime sounded and the first red light flashed green. A buzzing followed as a slender needle emerged from a tiny hole in the bottom of the device. The words
Blood Check
flashed up on the screen.

Troy’s head whipped around to me, his scowl venomous and accusing. But I didn’t know about this anymore than he did. We’d only known about the thumbprint. Nothing else. Especially not blood. And whose blood did the device need? Did it have to be Caius’s? A royal’s? A guard’s?

The guard looked up from his magazine when the screen beeped, like it was reminding us that the final step had not yet been completed. His hand hovered over the radio at his waist and his mouth opened.

Before he could speak, Dorian leapt between the guard and Troy, sending a loaded elbow at the guard’s face. The impact cracked bone and the guard cried out. But he didn’t go down.

Instead he kicked out, connecting with my hip. The booted kick hit with a sting, feeling like my flesh had been torn. I ignored the raw tearing as his hand closed over his gun, removing it from the holster.

Before the guard could cock or aim, Dorian swiped the loaded metal and pumped a single shot into the guard’s abdomen. Another shot like a spear into his forearm.

“Dorian, no!” I went to stop him. “Don’t kill him!”

Troy, wearing Caius’s meat suit, locked my arms behind my back. “He’s not.”

Another two shots rang out, one each into the guard’s thighs. The guard slumped over with an agonized scream, falling back onto the seat, unconscious.