We didn't stay in that room.
I wouldn't let us.
Not after what had been done there. Not after what he had done to survive it.
Nine's fingers clutched my shirt like a lifeline, his breathing unsteady as I pulled us both up. The room reeked—blood, fear, piss. It clung to our skin like smoke.
But there was no time to grieve.
The attack had already begun.
Screams echoed through the halls. Walls trembled as something massive slammed into them. The lights flickered overhead—half on, half out—throwing everything into a nauseating strobe.
Nine's knees buckled again. I caught him, wrapped my arm around his waist, and half-dragged, half-lifted him toward the door.
His legs worked, barely. His head lolled forward.
"I'm sorry," he murmured.
I didn't let him finish.
"Don't be sorry. Just hold on."
He did.
We emerged into chaos.
The hallway outside was in shambles—glass shards, overturned tables, a hybrid streaked with blood sprinting past us with wild eyes. One of the guests tried to shoot it. He missed. Then he screamed.
The creature doubled back.
It was one of mine—its eyes glowing the way I'd seen in the enclosure during training. Beautiful. Terrifying. Loyal.
It didn't even look at us.
Just tore through the shooter's throat in one clean motion and kept going.
I turned, gripping Nine tighter.
"Kade's with the other hybrids," I said, more to remind myself than him. "Kol opened the gates."
Nine's lashes fluttered. He nodded faintly, cheek brushing my collarbone.
"I… heard you," he mumbled. "Through the bond."
I slowed for a second. Just long enough to turn and press a kiss to his hair. "Then you know we're getting out."
He nodded again. "You said… two days ago…"
"I meant it."
The hallway shook beneath our feet. Alarms finally began to blare—late, useless, mechanical shrieks trying to contain a massacre.
"They'll come for you," Nine said, voice hoarse. "They'll try to take you back."
"They can try."
I looked at him then, fully.
There was blood on his face. On his hands. On his chest. But there was also light in his eyes. A flicker of it.
He wasn't broken.
Not yet.
Not ever.
"Can you run?" I asked.
He hesitated. Then nodded once.
Not convincingly.
But I didn't need him to be fast. Just conscious.
We moved.
Down the corridor, past the banquet hall where tables were overturned and bodies were already strewn like decorations. The creatures were loose now. My voice—my command—still echoed through their instincts, fueling them.
"Don't look," I said as we passed the main doors. "Just keep going."
But Nine did look.
His gaze swept the wreckage. The monsters I'd trained. The men they hunted. And for a moment, his breathing deepened.
Not in fear.
In understanding.
"You did this," he said softly.
"I did."
"For me?"
I stopped, just for a heartbeat.
Then nodded.
He didn't smile. He didn't need to.
His fingers tightened around mine.
"I'll walk," he said. "I want to walk out of here."
And I let him.
Even if it was slow. Even if it hurt.
He deserved to walk away.