Right Through Me (The Obsidian Files #1)(119)

Whatever had been inside it was nothing but ash and cinders now.

“You lying bitch,” he said hoarsely. “I will rip your heart out for that!” He reached for her, hauling her to her feet.

“No, you won’t.” A voice from the door. Something flashed through the air—

Mark shouted hoarsely. He twisted, and pulled a long shard of bloodied glass out of his shoulder. Noah barrelled at him, from across the room. Barefoot. Nearly naked.

Mark flung her away. The two men charged each other with a guttural roar.

Caro hit the floor. Something massive landed on top of her. The woman slave soldier shifted on Caro, pinning her. She could barely breathe. She heard thuds, grunts, chunks of falling plaster and primal howls, but all she could see were billowing clouds of plaster dust.

She heaved and bucked, finally shoving off the slave soldier, who suddenly relinquished her grip. The woman stared at the two men fighting, her irises white-rimmed dark brown circles. Her mouth hung open. She’d forgotten that Caro existed.

Caro shoved sweat-matted hair out of her eyes, and saw Noah flung through the air, crashing high up against the wall with bone-shattering force. Her scream of denial froze in her throat as he fell out of the jagged hole in the plaster and landed in a catlike crouch on his bare feet, spattering bright red blood against the snow-white plaster dust.

He ran at Mark again.

Mark met him, slashing low with a knife he’d hidden. Noah blocked the stabs, his moves too swift for her to see. He caught Mark’s knife hand. Mark flipped sideways and out of the hold, landing upright and spinning around. His back kick slammed Noah against the wall, punching him through the plaster and deep into the wall framing.

Mark seized the end of an old church pew from the furniture heap and hurled the heavy thing like a spear. It smashed through the wall above Noah, and the whole wall collapsed onto him, frame, bricks, plaster. Caro screamed when she saw Mark grab a heavy brass altar lamp for a lethal swing at Noah, still partly trapped under the rubble.

Noah caught the lamp mid-swing, and jerked Mark off his feet.

In seconds the men were a grunting, writhing knot. Noah kicked his legs free and flipped over, on top of his assailant. Mark’s legs scrabbled and drummed against the ground, making choking sounds. Caro finally saw why. Noah had the rotten lamp cord wrapped around Mark’s neck.

Mark clawed at his throat, legs flailing. The stained glass window tinted the clouds of pale, swirling dust a lurid red. The filthy floor was smeared with blood, both Noah’s and the blood and brain tissue of the dead slave soldier next to them.

Mark reared up, attempting eye contact with his slave soldiers. “Controller . . . commands!” he coughed out. “Commands . . . you! Shoot . . . my enemy!”

The man lying on top of Asa slowly raised his pistol, taking aim at Noah.

“Brenner!” Caro yelled. “Don’t do it! Callie needs you! Remember Callie!”

“Callie?” Brenner’s gaze jerked over to her, startled. “Callie?” Blood trickled from his nostrils. His gun hand sagged, as if he’d forgotten about the weapon.

Caro looked at the woman slave soldier. Tears streamed down the woman’s sweaty face. Her mouth hung open. She didn’t respond to Mark’s command.

Her breaths were harsh, gasping rasps of pain.

Noah would not yield. Mark’s legs slowed, trembled. And finally stopped.

The silence was absolute.

Still, Noah maintained his grip with resolute patience, his expression unreadable. Waiting for some signal that only he could perceive.

Silent moments passed. No one moved, or spoke, or even breathed.

Finally, Noah let go. He crouched on one knee before his fallen adversary, and slowly rose to his feet. The bloodied cord dangled from his hand like a whip.

He stood there, a terrifying vision, spotlit in the blazing column of light, like a creature from myth or legend, his massive chest whitened and blood-smeared as if painted for combat. His eyes burned with a hot predator glow as they fastened onto her.

It had been like watching gods do battle.





Chapter 34


Noah’s gaze swept around the room, assessing everyone. Despite her unconscious state, Hannah’s sig showed strong vital energy. Close to waking. Caro seemed fine, though her face was pale and her eyes shimmering with tears.

“You OK?” he asked. His voice was hoarse and cracked.

Tears streaked down her face. She wiped them away with grubby hands, nodding quickly.

Asa had pushed the slave soldier off himself. Strangely, the man offered no resistance at all anymore. He lurched clumsily to the side and sat on his ass, swaying. Blood streamed from his nose. His gun dangled in his hand, evidently forgotten.

Asa scrambled across the floor, and crouched by Hannah. “She’s blinking,” he said. “I think she’s coming to. Gotta get her pulse. Cut me loose, for Christ’s sake!”

“She’s all right.” Noah scooped up Mark’s bloodied knife, and snapped through Asa’s restraints. “Her sig looks fine.”

Asa pressed his fingers to her throat, exhaled slowly, and met his brother’s eyes. His expression was somber.

“Holy shit, Noah.” His voice was tight, vibrating. “I had no f*cking idea.”

Noah’s jaw clenched. “Yeah, I know. It’s a lot to take in.”