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“I’ll help you.”
“No.”
She didn’t want to end up like her mother — buried six feet deep in an unmarked grave. A distinct possibility if she entered Azlandia. The second she set foot inside Westvane’s world, the queen would know. Lyonesse wouldn’t hesitate to end her life. She’d put the most ruthless killers on her trail. The name of the game would beSeek and Destroy. Or maybe,Find and Torture.
Neither scenario sounded fun.
She’d be a sitting duck. Like fresh chum thrown into the shark-infested waters. Out of her depth. Unable to navigate. Without a lifeline, no way to pull herself to safety. But as Westvane walked across the office toward her, and she back-pedaled, stepping around overturned desks and over wrecked ceiling tiles to avoid him, Truly knew it was too late. She was already in deep water. The way Westvane moved, the look in his eyes, the direct path he took to reach her screamed,“Time’s up”.
He intended to force the issue. Pit his will against her own. Whether she liked it or not.
17
TRY, TRIPLE
Truly retreated as Westvane advanced. Avoidance was key, and escape the best course of action. Problem was, she didn’t hold out much hope of accomplishing either.
Confined space. Limited options. An army outside the front door. Everything seemed stacked against her.
Not surprising. Her plan wasn’t rooted in rocket science — more in the inane hope Westvane would change his mind. A long shot, given his nature. With Slayer-driven intensity, Westvane boxed her in, mirroring her movement, moving her backward, herding her toward a corner of the room.
Stumbling over debris strewn across the floor, she continued to retreat. A sharp pivot turned her toward the storeroom. Gaze steady on her, Westvane shook his head. She didn’t need his non-verbal form of communication. Truly already knew her strategy sucked. Retreating instead of standing her ground was a bad idea. Westvane enjoyed chasing. He liked to hunt, and she was running out of places to run.
M&B had never been huge. Now, it seemed more than just small. The outer office felt tiny, full of dwindling space, too little air and few options.
Panic nibbled around the edges, hovering like a Spector on the horizon. One that threatened to engulf her as her chest compressed, making it difficult to breathe.
“I can’t, Westvane,” she said, as he moved closer. “Believe me… I can’t.”
“Triple,” Montrose growled.
The intensity in his low tone ripped her attention from Westvane.
Her gaze snapped in her boss’s direction.
The first thing she noticed was his scowl. Ever a fixture on his face. Nothing special about it now. More of the usual, but also, different. The contrast of bright blue eyes against gray fur held a quality, a softness, she’d never seen before from him. Knowing she must look terrified, unable to catch her breath, she threw him a wild look.
“Try, Triple.” Gun still leveled at the door, he jerked it toward the metal barricade. “The men outside are well-armed, and we’re outnumbered. The assholes will breach the building eventually. You’ve nothing to lose by trying, and everything to gain.”
Sound reasoning. Perfectly logical.
Truly hated the suggestion the second it left Montrose’s mouth. In light of the mob outside, he’d chosen to make sense. A startling about-face for him, but Truly couldn’t denytryingwas the right thing to do. Opening a door, attempting to connect and own her power, was the safest way out of a dangerous situation. The singular avenue by which she could ensure Westvane and Montrose didn’t get hurt — or worse, killed — by the madmen outside. The solution made sense, but for one rather large problem. If she opened a door and escaped into theEcotone, Westvane’s original mission went unattended and ignored.
Walking backwards, she raised her hands to ward him off. “You’re forgetting something.”
He raised a brow. “And that would be?”
“The Wendigo.”
“I haven’t forgotten about the Wendigo, princess.”
“It can’t be left to run wild.” Her shoulder blades bumped against the wall. “It’ll —”
“I know what it’ll do,” Westvane said, stopping a foot away.
Not far enough.
Not nearly far enough.
