I grabbed Turk by the collar and yanked him forward. "What did you just say?"
His eyes widened instantly. Panic flashed across his face as he struggled to understand what he had done wrong.
"I—I said it was the receptionist," he stammered. "I think her name was Whitney?"
"Brittney," I corrected automatically, releasing him. "Are you sure about that?"
He nodded quickly.
"Yeah. I mean… I think so," he said nervously. "She was the one who went out to stall you guys when you came into the building, right?"
And suddenly, everything clicked.
Brittney had been eager to stop us from reaching the second floor. A little too eager. A normal person would have told us everything the moment we arrived. They would have begged us to hurry upstairs. They would have tried to get themselves to safety. At the time I had assumed she was simply panicking. A civilian trying to protect her coworkers. Someone desperate to keep the situation from escalating.
But I was wrong. She hadn't been protecting the employees. She had been protecting the members of the order.
I shot to my feet. The safe room. Everyone inside it. Lydia and Mous. They were in danger. I was already moving toward the door before I could register what I was doing. Halfway across the room I stopped abruptly. Turk. I still had a prisoner.
Taking him with me wasn't an option.
Dragging a restrained hostage through the building would only slow me down. Worse, it would make noise. Leaving him here was the only choice. I could only hope I wasn't making a mistake. I walked over to the woman's body and picked up the makeshift choker. I kept my eyes away from the corpse as much as possible while I untangled the straps. It wasn't easy. I walked behind Turk and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I have some business to take care of," I told him. "So you'll be staying here for a while."
He twisted his neck, trying to look up at me.
"What? You're just going to leave me here?" he said, fear creeping into his voice. "You can't do that! What if—"
His protest ended abruptly when I forced the gag over his mouth. He struggled weakly, shaking his head as I tightened the strap behind it.
"Hold still," I muttered.
He eventually stopped resisting, breathing hard through his nose. I stepped away and walked to the corner of the office, picking up the coldflare from the floor. I couldn't leave it here. If someone entered the room and saw the light, they would know immediately that someone was inside. I would dispose of it somewhere else. Before leaving, I turned back toward Turk.
"If you value your life," I said quietly, "stay in this room."
His eyes were locked on me.
"Do not make noise. Do not try to escape. Do not attract attention."
He nodded quickly.
I reached for the door.
"Hang tight," I said. "I'll be back for you."
I was almost at the door to the fourth floor when I heard the crash. The sound was violent. Heavy. Something large had just been thrown across the room. My heart sank. I pushed the door open immediately and slipped into the corridor. Light spilled out from the director's office, stretching across the floor in long, flickering shapes. Shadows moved inside.
The smell hit me almost immediately, strong even at this distance. I moved forward quickly but silently, crouching beside the doorway and leaning just enough to see inside.
Lydia lay against the far wall of the office. Bruised and battered. Her chest heaved desperately as she struggled to breathe. One arm hung limply at her side while the other held her mace, though the weapon drooped in her grip. She didn't have the strength to lift it. On the other side of the office, just in front of the back room door and barely five feet from my position, stood the aggressor.
Brittney.
It was like I was facing Evan all over again. She exuded a similarly strong stench of hyperactive biochemistry. Rox. How had she hidden it during the search?
I could hear screams and trembling voices coming from the room as Brittney walked to center the office, dragging something by her side. Someone. Mous.
Her body hung limp and motionless as her feet scraped across the floor. Blood streamed from a gash on her forehead, running over her eyelids and across her bruised cheeks. I forced my jaw shut, biting down hard in an attempt to restrain myself. She wasn't dead, I told myself. Just unconscious.
She had to be.
Lydia coughed, struggling to push herself upright. One hand planted on the floor, the other clutching her ribs as she forced her body to obey. For a second it looked like she might manage it. Then her knees buckled. She collapsed again, hard.
Brittney laughed.
The sound was high and jagged, stripped of anything resembling humor.
"Why are you doing this?" Lydia rasped, trying once more to rise.
Brittney didn't answer right away. Instead she grabbed Mous by the collar and dragged her another step across the floor. Then she tossed her aside. Mous' body hit the ground in a limp heap. She didn't move. I bit down harder. Slowly, carefully, I rose from my crouch in the doorway.
Don't screw this up. She's not dead. Don't let your emotions cloud your judgement.
Brittney's scent dominated everything in the room, thick and overwhelming. I couldn't separate anything else from it. Couldn't confirm if Mous was still alive. I had to assume she was. Trent and Lloyd returned to my hands. I couldn't risk dragging out a fight with Brittney while she was on Rox. My best bet would be an instant kill. I just needed the right moment.
"Marshals," Brittney said. Her eyes were fixed on Lydia, burning with ugly amusement. "You all think you're so smart. You think you're better than us, don't you?"
"Wha—" Lydia started.
Brittney cut her off with a sneer.
"Strutting around with your little toys. Your badges. Your authority." She spat. "You're the worst of them. Arrogant slaves to a broken system."
"Stop this," Lydia said between coughs. "It's not too late. You don't have to do this."
She laughed again. "On the contrary I do. That idiot you call a captain is probably dead by now. I'm pissed I couldn't do it myself. He was such a fucking piece of shit."
I adjusted my stance, muscles tensed. I raised Lloyd above my head. She cracked her neck, a wide manic grin splitting her face.
"And now, you're going to join him."
Her feet shifted. Lloyd left my hand in a blur.
I aimed for the head. At that distance, with her attention fixed on Lydia, it should have been effortless. The tip cut through the air straight for her skull.
Somehow she reacted. Her arm snapped up at the last instant and the point buried itself deep into her shoulder. The impact twisted her sideways, her body jolting from the force.
For a fraction of a second my mind stalled in disbelief. My body didn't. I had already entered the office.
Before she could process what had happened, I closed the distance and drove my boot straight into her chest. At the same time my hand clamped around Lloyd's haft and ripped it free from her shoulder. Blood followed in a dark spray. The force of the kick sent her sprawling backward across the desk. Loose junk scattered everywhere as her body crashed across the surface and slammed into the heavy chair behind it.
The chair tipped, legs screeching across the floor. I spared a quick glance across the floor. Mous lay where Brittney had thrown her earlier. Still motionless.
The sight hit like a punch to the ribs, but there wasn't time to dwell on it. I vaulted onto the desk. The wood groaned under my boots as I rushed forward, both weapons already rising to finish it.
I wasn't quick enough. She had already recovered. Her fist rocketed toward me the moment I came within reach. I brought my guard down in time.
The punch slammed into the crossed hafts with murderous force. My arms shook and the impact shoved me backward off the desk. I hit the floor hard, boots scraping across the floor as I fought to keep my footing.
Brittney hopped onto the desk with a smooth, effortless motion. Blood soaked through the torn fabric around her shoulder, running down her arm in thick rivulets. She didn't seem to care. She stood there above me, looking down like she was in charge.
"Well," she said with a crooked smile, "look who decided to show up."
I didn't answer. My eyes stayed locked on her hips and shoulders. Looking for tension in her legs. Every tiny shift that might signal the next attack.
Beside us, the back room erupted into noise.
Voices overlapped, panicked and frantic. Some of them sounded almost hopeful now that I was there. A couple of people even cheered under their breath.
Brittney tilted her head slightly toward the sound before returning her attention to me.
"I'm actually glad you're alive," she said, nonchalantly. "Thank you for giving me the pleasure of taking your life."
She moved before the last word finished leaving her mouth. Her body launched off the desk in a sudden burst of motion, one leg snapping forward in a flying kick aimed straight at my chest.
I stepped sideways just in time.
Her heel sliced past my vest, missing by inches. She landed in a crouch. I swung the moment her feet touched the floor. The blade whistled toward her neck. She slipped backward, narrowly avoiding it. Her fist came immediately after.
I brought Lloyd up to meet it. The force still rattled through my arms as she drove forward, following with another punch, then another.
She kept coming.
Her fists hammered at me in a relentless barrage. Each impact carried enough strength to jar my bones even through the weapons. A final blow smashed hard enough to shove me back a couple of steps.
Somewhere behind me, off to the right, Lydia struggled for breath.
In those few exchanges, something settled into place in my mind. She wasn't Evan. The realization slid into focus as I watched her movements.
She was strong and fast. But not like him. Not even close. More importantly, her strikes were sloppy. Wide. Driven by rage more than precision. Every punch came with her whole body behind it, shoulders telegraphing the motion long before the blow landed. A proper trap, just like the one I used on Evan, would easily turn this in my favor.
I moved again, snapping forward in a quick sequence of strikes. Brittney twisted away from each one with sharp, reactive agility, my blades cutting through spaces where she had been a split second earlier.
She was grinning.
"Come on!" she barked. "That all you've got, captain?"
I thrust Lloyd straight at her torso. She sidestepped cleanly. It slid past her ribs. Perfect. My wrists twisted and I ripped the weapon back across her body, the axe blade catching her side and carving a deep line through flesh.
Her grin vanished.
A harsh grunt escaped her throat as blood immediately darkened the torn fabric along her ribs. Her eyes flared with fury. She lashed out wildly, rage overriding whatever control she had left. I ducked under the swing and rolled away across the floor, coming up near the front of the desk.
Now the desk was behind me. And it was clear now. The way she held her stance. The way she let her emotions overwhelm her. Not only weaker than Evan. Not only slower.
She was barely a fighter at all.
At best, she was a tier 1 with a weak combat sense. Predictable. I squared up, weapons high and ready. This next clash would end it.
Brittney's chest rose and fell in ragged bursts as she glared at me. Blood ran down her side, dripping steadily onto the floor. Her lips peeled back in a snarl. Then she roared and charged. She rushed in a straight line, eyes burning. Just before she entered my range, something moved from the side.
A mace spun end over end and slammed into her ribs, right on the cut. She stumbled sideways with a sharp cry of pain.
Lydia sagged against the wall. She was barely standing. One arm remained extended from the throw, her hand trembling violently.
I didn't hesitate.
Trent swept left, smashing aside the hand Brittney had raised instinctively to protect herself. The blade bit into her forearm as it knocked the limb away. At the same moment Lloyd cut in the opposite direction. The edge tore cleanly across her throat.
At first she just stood there, paralyzed. Then the blood came. She collapsed to her knees, both hands clamping desperately over the wound as crimson poured between her fingers.
The room went silent. Even the voices in the back room stopped.
I stepped forward slowly. Brittney's eyes lifted to meet mine, wide and panicked now as she tried uselessly to hold the blood inside her neck. She tried to speak, but the only sound that escaped was a wet choking noise as more blood bubbled from the wound. I stopped in front of her.
"You know," I said quietly, "I never liked you either."
Then I drove Trent down through the top of her skull.