Evolution

by Hope Anika

  “Goddamn it,” she hissed and wiggled desperately. “A bomb! Let me go, Ruslan. Please!”

  He lifted her from her feet. “Promise me you will not run to your death.”

  She heard the steel in him and forced herself to still. Tried to keep her heart from leaping out of her chest. “I’ll be careful.”

  “Promise me,” he said.

  “I promise,” she agreed, but he didn’t move.

  “Ruslan,” she growled.

  “We will do this together,” he said into her ear. “Just as you asked.”

  “Fine,” she grated.

  He still didn’t move. “When you are calm.”

  “I am fucking calm,” she snarled and wiggled like a hooked fish. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

  “Ashling.” The arms that held her tightened, curling around her until there was no escape. He enveloped her into the hard, warm plane of his body, and she trembled at the contact.

  His mouth pressed against her ear. “I need you to be calm.”

  A violent tremor moved through her. For one brief, fleeting moment, she tried to absorb some of his heat and strength. It simply wasn’t fair that he had so much.

  “I am calm,” she said.

  “These are dangerous people,” Ruslan said. “We must take care.”

  Goddamn it. She knew he was right. She couldn’t afford to lose her shit but—a bomb!—and terror was clawing at her chest. She was trying to breathe through it, to keep moving forward. “Only two more switchbacks. When we get to the top, you can go left, I’ll go right. There’s a small shed on the left, a clearing on the right.”

  “We will go up together,” Ruslan said, unmoving.

  Ash gripped his arms. “Ruslan—”

  “Together,” he said again.

  And he was right. Damn him.

  “Okay,” she said. “Together.”

  He said into her ear, “I trust you.”

  She growled at him as he lowered her slowly to the muddy ground. The flex of his body around hers made her heart surge into overdrive.

  “Come,” he said.

  He took her hand again, his hold unyielding as he tugged her behind him; the rain pummeled them, and the wind blew in unpredictable gusts filled with smoke and dust and fiery debris. Lightning flashed, followed by a violent clap of thunder so loud Ash felt it beneath her feet.

  The final two switchbacks were the steepest. Her thighs were burning by the time they crested the top of the mesa and hit the flat plateau where Charlie had built the cabin.

  The cabin that had become a smoldering pile of rubble.

  Ash gave a sharp cry and moved toward it, but Ruslan pulled her back, his hold unbending.

  “No,” he said and studied the scene through the relentless downpour. “We go left.”

  “But they could be in there,” Ash protested.

  He turned toward the small shed that was also on fire; the door had burned away, and an SUV sat inside, smoldering. “We do this methodically, Ashling. We assess and evaluate before we act.”

  “Oh, fuck off,” she snarled. “Let me go!”

  “Do you recognize that vehicle?” he asked.

  “No.” She tugged at his hold. “Let go, Ruslan. I’ll go around the other way; we’ll cover more ground.”

  His pale eyes turned to flint, and the hand around hers tightened. “Together, or I lock you in the trunk of the Impala. Your choice.”

  He was big and hard and impossibly strong, and he was not kidding.

  “You’re not the boss of me,” she muttered. Fear for Wylie and Wanda and Eva churned in her chest; the smell of smoke made her stomach heave. She wanted to tear through the smoking remains of the cabin; she did not want to argue with Ruslan yet again about his place in the power structure.

  A place he totally ignored.

  “Ashling,” he said softly. “You must trust me.”

  She only snorted. Trust. Because he’d been so very forthcoming up to this point—

  Lightening forked across the sky, and thunder suddenly sounded like a giant boom, shaking the world around them. Ash’s ears rang.

  “We have to find them,” she said, staring out into the dense rain, her heart pounding furiously. Dread washed through her in a heavy wave. She’d told herself the cabin would be safe—

  But it wasn’t.

  And now...are they dead? Will we find only bodies, charred and blackened and burned beyond recognition?

  “Shit,” she whispered, and Ruslan stared down at her.

  “One step at a time,” he said sternly.

  Tears massed in her chest, sudden and overwhelming. What would she do if they were dead? What—

  “Ashling,” Ruslan said.

  Get a grip, woman.

  She took a deep breath and shoved the tears back down. Stupid tears. Useless and weak.

  When she was neither.

  Lights suddenly flickered above them; the ground shuddered underfoot. Thump-thump, thump-thump.

  “A helicopter,” Ruslan said grimly. “We need cover.”

  A helicopter. Her heart lunged in her chest. Ruslan yanked her toward the smoldering shed, staying low; he crept through the downpour like a big, soundless cat while she trailed him like a plow horse.

  “We follow it,” Ruslan said, looking back at her. “Until it lands.”

  “Lead the way,” she said.

  CHAPTER

  -20-

  Eva stared at the bodies surrounding them, her cheeks pale, her gaze stricken, and tears slid down her cheeks in a silent, ceaseless glide that made Wanda hurt inside. She wrapped her arms around the girl and hugged her tight.

  The rain battered them, cold and thick and relentless.

  “I didn’t want to hurt them,” Eva said and hiccupped. She swayed on her feet. “I really didn’t.”

  “I know, sweetheart.” Wanda stroked Eva’s wet hair. Part of her was shaken and horrified by what she’d seen the girl do. But another part knew that sometimes there were no good choices. She understood that better than most. “Come, we must go.”

  “It’s too late,” Eva cried and began to weep in earnest.

  Alarm streaked through Wanda. Wylie suddenly stood beside them, a gleaming silver gun in his hand. His hair was slicked back against his skull and water slid down the hard line of his jaw.

  “Too late?” Wanda asked.

  “The ones in my head.” Eva trembled in her hold. “The ones like me. They’re here, too.”

  Wylie was utterly still; his dark blue gaze was almost black when it met Wanda’s. “What do they want?”

  “Me. They think I belong to them, because we’re the same.”

  “You do belong to us.” A black hooded figure suddenly stepped from the rain and materialized beside them. “Because we are the same.”

  Wylie immediately trained his weapon on the mysterious figure. “Not another step.”

  “Just leave me alone!” Eva turned away and buried her face in Wanda’s shoulder.

  The hooded figure tilted his head. He was clothed entirely in black; it was impossible to see his face, hidden deep within the hood, but he was nearly as tall as Wylie. Leather gloves covered his hands.

  “Little sister,” he said, almost gently. “You know I can’t do that.”

  Wanda tightened her arms around the girl.

  “‘For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.’” The hooded man turned to survey the ring of bodies; he seemed unconcerned with the Magnum Wylie had locked and loaded on him. “You can’t kill them all, you know. Not by yourself.”

  Eva jerked in Wanda’s arms. “Shut up.”

  “They’ll catch you and they’ll kill you, and they’ll kill these people who helped you.”

  She pulled from Wanda’s hold and rounded on him. “Shut up.”

  “Eva,” Wylie said.

  “He’s trying to control you.” The man halted in front of Eva. “Just like Joe.”

  “He’s trying to save you,” Eva hissed.
“You moron.”

  Wanda blinked. “Eva.”

  The figure stared at Eva, motionless. “Come home, little sister. You can be who you are, and we will celebrate you.”

  Eva stared at him, and Wanda could see the yearning in her. The desperate need to be wanted and loved.

  Safe.

  “Celebrate me. Use me.” The girl’s voice was bitter. “What’s the difference?”

  “You belong with your family.”

  “My family is dead.”

  “We are your family,” the hooded man insisted. “You’re one of us. No one could love you more.”

  “You don’t love me!” A wild, angry laugh tore from her. “You just want to add me to your collection. One more little soldier! One more pawn for the sacrifice!”

  She was screaming, her voice shearing through the pounding rain, and Wylie stepped closer to the hooded man, his hold on the Magnum unwavering.

  “You should go,” he said.

  “You aren’t a soldier or a pawn,” the hooded figure grated, ignoring him. “You’re our blood. You belong to us.”

  “I don’t belong to anyone,” Eva denied, and more tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’m just a freak who shouldn’t exist.”

  “Eva!” Wylie growled.

  “It’s true.” Another sob escaped the girl, and the hooded man stepped toward her. Wylie moved between them.

  “No,” he said. “Not unless you plan to go through me.”

  “Don’t tempt me,” the man snarled. His gloved hands clenched. “Step aside.”

  Wylie only stared at him.

  A gust of wind slammed into them; the rain was cold, stinging as it fell from the sky. It was growing darker, the faint light of dusk dimming. The hooded man had begun to blend into the dark, storming night.

  “If you don’t move,” he said flatly. “I’ll move you.”

  The warning made Wanda’s blood turn cold. Because whoever this person was, he had no fear of the gun Wylie held. Or of ending up like the dead men who surrounded them. She didn’t understand everything that was happening, but she understood Eva’s fear and her pain, and no matter who this mysterious figure was, or what he threatened, they would protect her from him.

  No matter the consequence.

  “She stays with us,” Wanda said.

  “You’re nothing.” The man’s voice was derisive. He took another step, and lightening pulsed across the sky above him. “Weak and soft, arrogant and stupid. She would do better with a dog.”

  “Stop it,” Eva said, and her tone made a sudden, sharp arrow of awareness shoot through Wanda.

  The hair on her arms shivered. “Eva.”

  But the girl ignored her, focused entirely on the unknown, hooded man. And then, just as the men in black had stepped out of the smoke and rain earlier, a group of hooded men suddenly appeared, a collection of cloaked figures that made terror wash through Wanda in a dark wave.

  Wylie swore softly, and Eva stared at them, devastated.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. She looked at the hooded figure before her, and something in her expression told Wanda that the girl knew him. “Don’t hurt them.”

  “No one wants to hurt them,” he replied. “They helped you, and we have no quarrel with them.”

  “Wylie,” Eva said. “Put your gun down.”

  “The hell I will,” Wylie argued, unmoving.

  “Please,” she said and fear glinted in her amber gaze, which glowed almost feverishly bright. “He’ll hurt you. I can’t stop him. I’m not strong enough. I’m sorry. Please, Wylie. Put it down.”

  He stared at her, unmoving, and Wanda felt her breath tighten in her chest. These men obviously terrified Eva—who’d just killed a small army herself—so what, then, were they capable of? The Magnum would only get them so far. And they were surrounded by...what, exactly? Who? And there was no escape—

  But they couldn’t let Eva be taken.

  They could not.

  Wanda put her hand in her pocket and found Mr. Sparky.

  “No,” Eva said and turned that glowing gaze on Wanda. “Don’t, please. They won’t hurt me...not like the others. Please, Wanda. You’re my friend. I don’t want you to die.”

  She was terrified, her pupils huge, nearly weaving from exhaustion, and Wanda looked around at the men who surrounded them. Dark, indistinct figures wavering in the dense downpour. At least ten.

  More.

  “With you, she will be captured,” the hooded man said. “Taken, tortured, murdered. And you will die. With us, she will be free, and you will live.”

  “Please,” Eva said again. Tears streaked down her cheeks. “This is how it has to be. I have to go with them. You have to let me. It’s the only way.”

  Wanda took a step toward her, but the girl backed away, lifting a hand as if to ward her off. “Eva—”

  “I won’t fight,” the girl said, turning to look at the hooded figure. “Just don’t hurt them.”

  “Eva,” Wylie said quietly.

  “You can’t win this,” she cried. “Please.”

  “No more negotiating,” the man said. “Eva, come.”

  He held out a gloved hand, and Eva—who clearly did not want to take it—did.

  “Goddamn it,” Wylie snarled and stepped toward them.

  A bolt of lightning shot from the sky and slammed into him.

  The sound was deafening, a crack so violent it made Wanda’s bones vibrate. The shockwave threw her backward, and she hit the ground hard and bounced. Her ears rang; her skin rippled. Smoke filled her nostrils and burned its way down her throat. Rain streamed into her eyes, blinding her.

  Wylie.

  For a long, motionless moment, she couldn’t move. Her heart battered her chest; her blood roared. And then adrenaline surged through her veins, and she struggled to push herself up onto her hands and knees. The ground had turned to mud, thick and slippery, and she slid when she tried to push to her feet. Her ears rang; her vision blurred.

  Wylie.

  She made it to her feet and peered into the thick, dark sheet of rain.

  Eva was gone. So was the hooded man. The rest of the cloaked figures were stepping back into the dense rain, disappearing into the storm like ghosts, and Wylie...

  Wylie lay among the fallen men who littered the abandoned field, unmoving.

  *****

  Ash’s fingers curled tightly around Ruslan’s as they skirted the smoking mass of Charlie’s cabin. They’d found no charred remains, but visibility was minimal; around them, darkness closed in and the rain fell in sheets. The wind howled, gusts that nearly swept them from their feet and pummeled them with sand and grit and dusty ash.

  There was no sign of Wylie, Wanda or Eva Pierce, and the helicopter had abruptly disappeared from sight.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” Ash muttered, looking around. “Where are they?”

  She took a step away, her hand tugging against his, but Ruslan only held tighter. Her hand in his, connecting them. It was not an unpleasant sensation; in point of fact, Ruslan felt the link acutely. Sexual—the rasp of their palms was like a rough tongue across his skin—but also reflective, a bond that coupled them together physically for all to see. He had never understood the urge behind such casual yet intimate contact, had certainly never experienced it. Not until now. And while he would not have thought he would ever hold a woman’s hand, taking Ash’s had been an innate act, one he hadn’t hesitated over, and when her slender fingers gripped him tightly in return, he had felt...claimed.

  It was the second time she’d made him feel that sense of belonging, and his response was instant and primitive.

  Ours, the darkness insisted. And Ruslan was growing less inclined to argue.

  “No,” he said. “The helicopter is still above us.”

  Thump-thump, thump-thump.

  “You can hear that?” She scowled at him. “What are you—bionic?”

  Ruslan ignored that and pulled her closer as they emerged from the wreckage of the
cabin. A thick cluster of tall junipers greeted them, their boughs whipping wildly with the force of the wind.

  “There are rappel bolts anchored into the northern wall of the mesa,” Ash told him. “Maybe they made a run for it. Just past the junipers there’s a clearing, then a line of pine trees. Behind the pines, a trail leads down to the first anchor point.” She tugged once more against his hold. “Come on.”

  Ruslan’s skin suddenly prickled, and he stilled. Commotion was gaining ground toward them. Even through the darkness and the wail of the wind and the torrential rainfall, he could perceive movement, his senses abnormally acute and highly trained.

  Men. At least three of them, all undoubtedly well armed.

  His hand tightened around hers.

  “Now what?” she growled impatiently.

  “Men.” Ruslan reached for his SIG Sauer. “Running toward us.”

  “Awesome,” was her response. She promptly unearthed her Ruger and removed the safety. Ruslan wanted to push her behind him, protect her, but to handicap her would only lessen their odds and infuriate her.

  Still, the impulse was strong.

  “At least three,” he added, his jaw hard, his heartbeat a hollow thud in his chest. He had no experience with fear, not for himself, and never for another. The lack of control he felt was jarring and unwelcome; tension lined his spine, and the sinister, hungry darkness rose within him, intent on her safety.

  “Goddamn it, we don’t have time for this.” Ash pulled at his grip, and for a moment, Ruslan refused to release her. But then she snarled at him, and he let her go. She removed the second gun she carried from the pocket of her sweatshirt and disengaged the safety. She gripped both weapons easily, clearly accustomed to handling two at once. “I’m just going to shoot them.”

  “You are not amusing,” Ruslan told her.

  “I’m not kidding,” she retorted.

  Two men burst through the junipers and slammed into them like panicked cattle, sending all four of them crashing to the muddy ground.