The Gender War (The Gender Game #4)(71)

I pulled my pistol out and started moving faster. I was nearing the end of the hall when I heard the sound of running feet—two sets, to be precise. One of them was light, barely registering on the carpeted floor. The other one was clearly larger, thudding hard and echoing. I pressed my back against the wall and looked toward the next hall to see Violet slip around the corner, ducking in time to avoid getting hit by a table that flew over her head, smashing into pieces as it made impact with the wall.

She continued moving, catching her feet under her, nearly twenty feet away from me. I stepped out, pulling my gun.

Violet saw my intent as she raced toward me and shook her head, her eyes widening. “Viggo! Don’t shoot! It’s Solomon!” she shouted as she raced toward me.

The large man stepped into this hall from the adjoining one. Violet was almost to me now, and he paused, watching her run. I tightened my finger on the trigger, knowing full well I could stop his misery here and now. It might even be merciful.

But I couldn’t do it—this was not his natural state, and that wasn’t his fault. From what Violet had told me about him, Solomon was an exceptionally kind, brave and gentle man, and I owed him for saving not only Violet’s life, but mine. If he hadn’t selflessly volunteered to help retrieve the laser that cured me, he wouldn’t be in this mess. I would kill him if I thought I couldn’t stop him from killing Violet or myself, but that time hadn’t come. Yet.

I whirled and grabbed Violet’s hand, pulling her behind me, back down the hall toward my stairs. She followed, her shorter legs moving faster than mine so she could keep pace.

Behind us, we heard his horrible, bellowing roar—predatory and furious—followed by the deep thuds of his feet pounding on the floor, chasing after us.

I pushed Violet ahead of me, determined to keep her safe, as we rounded the corner that led to my stairwell. She was steps ahead of me, one hand on the railing, using it to keep her feet under her as she rounded the sharp corner and flew down the steps.

I was right behind her when Solomon emerged from the hall. He took one look at me and roared, spittle flying everywhere. He launched himself at me, and I ducked. My eyes widened as he flew completely over me and hit the wall, headfirst, hard enough to make it shudder.

He slid down, and I moved, barely able to get out of his way as he rolled down the steps, his legs and arms flying wildly as he tried to catch himself.

Without thinking, I leapt onto his back, wrapping an arm around his neck. It was a move I’d used often in the fighting ring, one that allowed me to cut off my opponent’s oxygen with a minimal amount of effort. My legs went around his waist like an anaconda as he stirred beneath me. I used my other arm to reinforce the one across his neck, my wrist pressing against my other wrist, leveraging it tighter around his throat.

His neck felt like steel under my arms, and I flashed back to when I had tried this move on a massive silver python that had almost finished me in The Green. That had ended poorly—I couldn’t let it happen again. I summoned up all the knowledge of my martial arts days and held on as Solomon staggered, then backed up into the nearest wall, slamming my back into it.

Then Violet was there, racing back up the stairs to where we struggled on the middle landing. I heard her grunt as she planted a foot in Solomon’s knee, and I managed to keep my grip firm as he tumbled to his knees, giving a wheezing roar. I jacked my arm in tighter, cutting the circulation off, straining with the effort.

I had to keep squeezing, unable to relent, knowing that if I didn’t we would either have to take him out, or this man would kill us all. It became my sole focus—the only thing that mattered. I have to protect us all.

After years in the ring, I could feel the exact moment when the man beneath me began faltering, and then the exact moment when he lost consciousness. I was barely able to unclamp my aching arm before he dropped to the ground, taking me down with him.

I rolled away from his twitching body, staring at the ceiling. The victory didn’t feel good.

Footsteps sounded, coming from the region of the house only our allies should be in. The next thing I knew, Owen was standing at the top of the staircase, his face flushed and his eyes wide. I gazed up at him, my rational mind returning, and became aware of a second thing—the house was silent. All the gunfire had stopped.

“Is it over?” I asked dazedly. If there was a new threat, I needed to be ready for it. Violet looked at me from where she was bent over Solomon, making sure he was all right… or at least not dead. She looked alarmed, and I realized it was because of the look on Owen’s face.

He came down a few steps, and I struggled to turn toward him from where I lay on the floor. “You need to come up here,” he whispered harshly. “Henrik… he…” The younger man’s face fell, and I felt something then, something like concern, cut through the strange head-stuffed and sluggish state I seemed to be in. I pulled myself to my feet, surprised at how tired I felt, but managing to place one foot in front of the other.

Violet was behind me, wordlessly urging me forward, and I moved. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, until I was running, pressed urgently onward by some unknown sense that I was needed now.

I rounded the corner near the back of the house and saw that Ms. Dale had abandoned her post and was crouching over a still form, her hands bloody. The door to her left was standing open, and I noted the standard-issue Matrian boots sticking out of the opening, just a few feet away from where Henrik was bleeding out.