Chapter 18 - Minutes
~ ZEV ~
She took an entire minute to come out of the apartment. A minute that he'd sweated through. A full minute of his head screaming at him that he couldn't leave her, that she was falling apart and he needed to be there to hold her together. That she hadn't heard him say he was about to lie and she thought he'd meant it. And behind it all, the ticking clock, demanding to be remembered. They would be found. They would be hunted. And Sasha would be hurt.
He was just discarding self-control and pushing off the wall he'd been leaning on when the door swung open so hard it bounced off the wall and she flew out, eyes blazing and hair flying behind her like a flag in the wind.
She was beautiful.
And had apparently evolved into an unholy potty-mouth.
"Mother-fucking asshole!" she screamed. He gaped at her. Then one side of her mouth twisted up into a smile.
Breath heaving with relief, he grabbed her hand and ran her towards the stairwell on the opposite side of the building than the one they'd used to get up there.
Neither of them spoke. He kept his own footsteps silent so anyone listening would think she was running after him by herself, that she hadn't found him. But he gripped her hand like it was a lifeline, like if he didn't, she'd just drift away. And he prayed to whatever god listened to the soulless, thanking him that she hadn't abandoned him.
They hit the door at the bottom running. He slammed through it with her right on his heels and was just looking back at her to make sure she'd come through okay when he caught sight of the man who'd plastered himself on this side of the wall and was launching at her.
It was instinct.
He turned on a dime, arms outstretched and body still at a full run, slamming the guy broadside into the wall. Sasha shrieked, then whirled, scrambling away from them, backwards into the parking level.
Zev shifted to make sure he was between them, feeling for her behind his back, getting ready to tell her to run again, assuming the guy was down for a while. But the way the male dropped to the ground with a grunt and immediately bounced to his feet, Zev knew.
Shit.
He was Chimera.
Fuck. They put Chimera on the hunt for Sasha?!
The male was already half-crouched, chin low and watching him. But as he caught Zev's wary gaze, his nostrils flared and he caught Sasha's scent behind him.
The male smiled so he showed his teeth. "You can give her to me. I'm not going to hurt her."
Zev snorted. Some of his brothers really needed more time among the humans to learn how to not be creepy. "She's not going anywhere with you. She's mine."
The male blinked. For a split second his eyes glazed and his mouth went slack.
"Shit!" It wasn't a Chimera, it was an Avatar.
Zev whipped around. There was no time to explain. He grabbed Sasha up in his arms, sprinting across the parking garage. They'd only get a few seconds before the Avatar could see again. And he'd scent them immediately.
Sasha yelped when he picked her up. But she was smart enough to realize he was running for a reason, so she clung to his neck to free one of his arms.
He only had a single, looping ramp to run down to the next level, then half a floor of the garage, but the feeling of having her curled around him like that, her breath against his skin, almost eviscerated him. Any passing thought he'd had of getting her to safety, and leaving her there to keep her out of the shitshow that was his life, fled.
He was never letting her go again.
They made it to the car ahead of the Avatar, but Zev could hear him approaching quickly, his feet pattering quietly despite the all-out run. He was almost as quiet as Zev himself. Shit. They were getting better at these abominations.
Zev slid to the driver's side of the car, dropping Sasha's legs so she could stand in the same movement that he threw the door open to catch the Avatar and bounce him back.
"Get in the car!" he bellowed, shoving Sasha inside and slamming the door behind her, then turning just in time to catch the Avatar leaping for his throat.
They both tumbled to the cement, Zev managing to twist just in time so he wasn't underneath the fucker when they hit the ground.
Zev had fought many times. More times than he could count. He'd even fought for his life more times than any man should have to. But he'd never fought for Sasha's before. Not hand-to-hand.
The snarl tore out of his throat, fueled by white-hot rage and a drive to possess, to protect, more consuming than he'd ever experienced.
He would end this thing for trying to touch her.