Page 61 of Stalker

"No!" The vision breaks. My claws extend, scoring deep gouges in the wall. She's in the basement. That monster has her in the basement.

I sprint toward the elevator, bone spurs clicking against marble floor. The doors slide open at my approach. Empty. Perfect.

Inside, I slam my palm against the basement button. Again. Nothing. Every button I press remains dark and lifeless.

A chuckle crackles through hidden speakers. "In a hurry, Reaper?"

Daniels. His voice drips with smug satisfaction.

"I designed this building's security systems myself," he continues. "Did you really think I'd make it that easy?"

The elevator doors slide shut with a final-sounding thunk.

"Now then. Let's have a chat about what happens to aliens who touch my daughter."

My claws dig into the seam between the doors. Metal shrieks as I force them apart inch by precious inch. A sliver of light appears.

"Going up?" Daniels's voice carries a sing-song quality that makes my blood run cold.

Up? But we're already at the-

The floor drops from under me as the elevator rockets upward. Metal screams. Wind howls through the gap I created. The ceiling tears away like tissue paper.

My body slams into the floor, then the walls, then the ceiling as the elevator spins through open space. Stars wheel past the jagged hole above. The artificial gravity field ends a hundred feet up - and we've passed it.

For one weightless moment, I float. Then the station's gravity reclaims us.

The elevator plummets. I crash into every surface, bone spurs tearing through metal. Pain explodes through my left arm as it snaps. My skull cracks against a wall. The world goes dark in one eye.

Impact.

Metal shrieks. Sparks fly. The elevator crumples like a tin can around me.

Blood fills my mouth. Every breath sends daggers through my chest. My left arm hangs useless, bone jutting through skin.

But Maryse's fear still pulses through our bond. She needs me.

I drag myself toward the twisted doors with my good arm. Metal groans as I force my way through the wreckage.

The lobby spins around me, but I plant my feet. Draw breath into broken lungs. Let loose a roar that shakes dust from the ceiling.

"I'm coming for her, Daniels! Nothing will stop me!"

The lobby doors explode inward. A tide of humanity floods through, armed with everything from pulse rifles to kitchen knives. The hotel staff - every last one of them - converges on my position.

"There's nowhere to run," a security guard shouts.

A chef brandishes his cleaver. "We serve Commander Daniels."

My left arm hangs useless, bone fragments grinding with each movement. Blood drips from a dozen wounds that haven't sealed yet. But Maryse's terror pulses through our bond, driving me forward.

"I don't want to kill civilians." My voice comes out as a wet growl. "Stand aside."

They answer with a hail of gunfire. I dive behind a marble column, chips of stone stinging my face. The housekeepers circle left while security pushes right. Smart tactics. They're well-trained for hotel staff.

A pulse round catches my shoulder. Another grazes my thigh. The wounds seal almost instantly, but the impacts still hurt like hell.

I launch myself at the nearest cluster, my good arm's claws extending. Blood sprays. Bodies fall. But there are so many, and they keep coming.