Page 108 of Tracked and Taken

Kesh gave it to her instead. In his voice. In his order. Through a speaker, with a manifold counting up over her head and a scalpel in her fist.

The telling was mine.

It was the last thing I had that was only mine to give her.

He spent it in front of me, through a door I could not get through fast enough.

* * *

The compound is still at saturation.

I take a breath I should not take, and the compound goes through my lungs and into my bloodstream and my biology commits.

My canines drop. My rosettes go to peak. My tail uncoils and cracks tile. The need to put my mouth on her throat is immediate and total. Kesh’s scent is still on her. I want it off. I want it replaced. I want my mark where his hand was until there is nothing left of him in this room.

The compound is in me too.

I have minutes.

Maybe less.

I do not know.

If I touch her throat, I will bite. If I bite, I am him.

JINX, on the private channel, tight: “Tael. The console housing is ferromagnetic. I can route a kill to the manifold from your position. Three steps to the console. Strike the housing at the welded seam.”

I cross.

My shoulder breaks the housing at the angle JINX has flagged. The amber light dies. The hum cuts. The timer freezes.

The air does not stop.

The compound is already delivered. The cabin is full of it.

JINX: “Saturation is logged at peak. I cannot tell you how long it stays in the air. I do not have data on this compound’s dissipation rate. I am sorry, Tael.”

“Copy.”

SENTRY, on the shared channel, gentler than I have ever heard her: “Tael. Officer Torres’s vitals are at the edge of my calibration. Her pulse is climbing. Her cortisol is at three times baseline. Her pupillary response is not hers. I am routing the feed to your overlay. I am here.”

“Copy, SENTRY. I have her.”

My arms under her. I lift her off the floor. Her head against my collarbone — too close to my mouth. I turn my face into her hair instead. Her hand with the MP blade comes up to my chest. The blade points away. I take it from her hand and set it at my belt. I do not trust what she might do with it in the next few minutes through no fault of her own. I do not trust what I might do if she offers me her throat.

“Nat. Nat. I am getting you out.”

She does not speak.

I move.

The lab is across the corridor. I clocked the door on the way in.

I kick it open hard enough that the panel leaves the frame.

It is a medium-sized research space. A row of biometric monitors along the back wall, quietly displaying data from chambers I have been clearing. Cabinets along the near wall, all locked.

I set Natalie against the bulkhead. Gently. Where I can see her. Where I can put my body between her and the door. Where I can keep my teeth in my own mouth.