Page 7 of Psycho Pack

The room goes still.

"Fuck this." The blade slides from my sleeve into my palm. One fluid motion and it's buried in his throat before he can shout. Blood sprays across the papers, across my borrowed white coat.

"Seriously?" Thane growls. "I'm usually the one who snaps."

I yank the blade free. "Being around two barbarians must be rubbing off on me," I say, smearing the bloodied blade off on the now deceased doctor's lab coat before slipping it back into its home against my wrist.

"The hell you calling barbarian?" Whiskey snarls, gesturing angrily at me. He's been pissy ever since I rightfully scolded him for knocking everything over like a bull in a china shop. "You're the one who just?—"

"Enough." I round on him. "We don't have time for your wounded pride. He made us. We need to move."

"You didn't even try to get more intel first! Just went straight for?—"

A tremor cuts him off.

Books rattle on the shelves.

A pen rolls off the desk.

"We need to go." Thane's voice carries the edge of command. "Now."

The second tremor hits harder. Cracks spider through the ceiling tiles. I strip off the blood-spattered coat as we run for the door.

The hallway beyond tilts and buckles. Emergency lights flash red, casting strange shadows as we sprint past rows of closed doors. The walls groan. Somewhere distant, metal screams.

"This way!" I shout over the growing chaos. The floor plan I memorized guides us toward the secure wing. Toward Ivy.

"She wasn't fucking there!" Whiskey bellows at me.

"She might be now!" I snap back, panic taking hold, adrenaline flooding my veins. He's right, she wasn't there when we last checked. But that's the only place I know where to start looking.

From there, maybe we can catch her scent.

From there, maybe?—

A section of ceiling crashes down in front of us. Whiskey's huge arm wraps around my waist as he flings me out of the way, slamming me into the wall with his palm splayed across my chest.

Live wires snap through the air where my head was a second ago, spitting blue-white sparks as they dance and writhe. The sour stench of ozone burns my nose.

"Get off me." I shove against Whiskey's massive palm, still crushing me to the wall. His bulk towers over me, blocking myview of the corridor. More ceiling panels crash down, raining dust and debris.

"You're welcome," he growls, finally stepping back.

"I didn't need your fucking help!" I snap.

"Both of you shut the fuck up." Thane's voice cuts through our bickering. He gestures down the corridor where red emergency lights paint everything in crimson hellfire. "We need to move. Now."

The floor bucks beneath us again. I brace against the wall, my fingers finding purchase in a crack that wasn't there seconds ago. The whole building groans like a dying beast.

An earth-shattering roar rips through the building, followed by the rapid staccato of gunfire. The sound echoes up from somewhere below us, vibrating through the ruined floor and into my bones.

Thane's head snaps up. "Wraith."

"Great. The last fucking thing we need is your psycho brother on a rampage." Whiskey shoves a chunk of fallen ceiling tile out of our path and storms after Thane.

I follow, gritting my teeth.

This is bad.