Adrenaline levels too high.
Consider this later. A red light shot from the door down the hall. Mishka stiffened. Alien? “Someone’s coming,” she said.
“Sure. I believe you.”
That light closed in, arms stretched forward for attack. Mishka pushed to her feet, but Mia kicked them out a second time. As she fell, the runner reached the agent. There was a grunt, a shuffle. The pair tangled together and fell, a blur of color.
Mishka crawled along the hallway, patting for her gun. All the while she kept her gaze glued to the door. Once, the combating pair tripped over her, but Mia managed to hold her own.
“Mishka?”
“Jaxon!” Relief poured through her. She saw his red light, crouched, still, not as bright. Concern blended with her relief. “Are you—” Another light crept behind him. “Look out!”
Even as she shouted, he was slammed into the ground.
CHAPTER 27
Jaxon had hoped for the attack, had prepared for it. When the Schön slammed into him, knocking him to his stomach, he simply shifted the gun in his grip so that the barrel faced backward and fired.
The weight on his shoulders didn’t ease, but the struggling and grasping at his clothes stopped. Satisfied, Jaxon pulled up his knees, dislodging the other-worlder and sending its frozen, now visible body to the floor.
Devyn was locked in place a few feet in front of him, and Kyrin was frozen a few feet back, both otherworlders having been pegged by stun during the battle. Mishka was on her hands and knees, blood dripping from her face and arms. Her eyes were glazed over, the irises completely black. Like a starless, midnight sky. Her skin was pale, several blue veins visible.
The sight of her like that nearly stopped his heart.
“Jaxon?” she said.
“I’m fine, sweetheart. Don’t move, okay?” He lifted his arm, aimed the pyre-gun.
Mia was clearly battling one of the invisible bastards. Her body was contorting as she twisted and rolled to keep a firm grip on the alien who was trying to fight his way into the elevator.
“Mia, fall back,” he commanded, and she obeyed instantly.
He squeezed the trigger. A blue beam erupted. The Schön suddenly materialized, rooted in place. He was on his stomach, legs obviously pushing forward, hands reaching for the elevator doors. His beautiful face was contorted with fury.
Briefly closing his eyes, Jaxon sagged against the floor. Done. It was done. He’d been thrown all over that apartment, slapped at, punched, kicked, and bitten, but he was alive.
“It’s over,” he said. “All nine are stunned.”
“Sure?” Mishka asked.
“Sure.”
The black faded from her eyes, returning the hazel he so adored. She blinked rapidly before focusing on him, looking him over, searching for injuries. When she found none, she slowly grinned. He returned the grin with one of his own. Desperate to hold his woman, he rose and marched forward. He’d doctor her up, gather her in his arms, and never let go.
“Not another step.”
Jaxon halted, stomach tightening, grin falling away. “Mia. What are you doing?”
“What you obviously can’t.” A scowling Mia stood in front of the elevators, pyre-gun aimed at Miskha’s head.
“Don’t move,” he told Mishka. He held up his free hand, palms out. In his other, he still clutched his gun. His insides clenched, twisted with sickness. He was shaking. “Put the gun down, Mia. The Schön are taken care of. For now, we’ve won. It’s time to clean up and go.”
“She has to die.”
As his fingers tightened on his weapon, his gaze flicked to Mishka. She’d remained in place as he’d told her to. A ray of emotions played across her lovely face: concern, hope, dread, agony, confusion.
There was a knife a few inches from her knee. He gave it a pointed glance in a silent bid for her to pick it up. Whether she understood his command or not, she did not obey.
“Mia, please,” he said. “Don’t do this.”
“I have to. You can’t see past her pretty face to the monster inside.” Her arm was steady, her expression cold.
Every drop of moisture in his mouth dried up. He licked his lips, dropped to his knees. “Put the gun down. I’m begging you. Put it down.”
“Maybe this is for the best. Don’t beg for me,” Mishka told him brokenly.
“Get up,” Mia screamed. Now her arm trembled. “Don’t you dare beg! Not for her. Get up!”
“Don’t do this,” he continued. “Please don’t do it. God, no. I love her.”
“She’s going to kill you. If I let her live, she’ll kill you. I can’t let that happen. You’re my friend, the brother of my heart.”
“She won’t hurt me. As you can see, she didn’t work with the Schön. She helped us.”
“This time. This time she helped. What about next time?”
Stubborn as she was, Mia wouldn’t listen to him. The realization hit him, and he aimed, arm lashing up. For him, there was no other choice. But Eden and Lucius were on him seconds later, pinning him down before he could get off a single shot.
“Don’t make me hurt you,” Lucius said. “They said this might happen, but buddy, you don’t aim at agents.”
Bucking, shouting curses, Jaxon managed to maintain a firm grip on the gun. “Don’t hurt her, Mia. She’s mine. I love her.”
Never had Jaxon experienced such panic. His own friends were conspiring against him. They refused to trust him, saw only what they wanted to see. “She’s not going to hurt me. Let her go. We’ll talk. I’ll explain. Please!”
“I saw it,” Dallas said from the corner. “I saw her shoot you. Her hair was brown then, but this is it. Has to be.”
“Wrong!” His muscles strained as he fought. Eden and Lucius proved stronger, though, as he’d already lost a lot of blood. He’d been in such a hurry to defeat the Schön and get to Mishka, he hadn’t stayed in place and simply fired his gun. He’d barreled his way through the room, been thrown into glass and walls. Several of his ribs were broken, he knew that, and two of his fingers. “She’s innocent.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Dallas clutch his bleeding side. “Hold him down, damn it,” the agent gritted out.
“I’ll kill every one of you if you don’t let him go,” Mishka’s cold voice proclaimed.
“Why don’t you help,” Lucius growled to Dallas, ignoring both Jaxon and Mishka.