Medved: Diaries of the Cwn Annwn Vol 8

By Jo Pilsworth

“Determine the source of ‘unstoppable assets’ advertised to terrorist organisations” was my brief from my Commanding Officer. “Investigate the disappearances of several young shifters” was the request from my brother, the titular ruler of shifters in what used to be the Warsaw Pact and the former USSR.

Nowhere in either did it say encounter Hellhounds, Cwn Annwn, demigods, and a couple of seriously crazy science types.to find my predestined Mate. Let’s not forget having to squeeze my 6ft 5in, back-row rugby player build into an economy plane seat. Admittedly that was after I underestimated my Mate: my Kaitlyn. Never underestimate an intelligent female.

Then again, life is never simple if you are a bear shifter serving, not just in the British Army, but also in E Squadron of the SAS. Captain Sergei Medvedovitch Vasilev at your service. This is my story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jo Pilsworth
• Release date: Apr 13, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370524006

Jo Pilsworth

Too many nights away from home led to my joining an online role-play group based on Sherrilyn Kenyon’s Dark Hunters universe, giving me an enjoyable hobby whilst in hotels on my own. As a result, I became friends with some of my fellow writers, Tracy Andrews and Donna DeBoard, who joined me when I started what was known in the role-playing world as an ‘own character’ group. Thus The Hunter’s Arrow and the worlds of the Anghelescu Hellhounds and the Negrescu Cŵn Annwn were born.When not concocting fiendish plots, I work as a Store Manager for The Works, a UK-based chain of art and craft supplies. I am supported in my writing endeavours by my wonderful husband of more than 25 years, David, and my son, David Junior.The Diaries of the Cwn Annwn consists of nine books, so far, with at least a couple more in the works. The books available here start with Merysekhmet, then Toho, Medved and Ma'iitsoh. Omega and Gemelli are in the production stage. Dare you walk in our world?

Book preview

DIARIES OF THE CŴN ANNWN: HELLFIRE PACK

Published by Jo Pilsworth and The Hunter’s Arrow Ltd

Copyright 2017 Jo Vincent-Pilsworth and Kaitlyn Bosch

Discover other titles by Jo Pilsworth and The Hunter’s Arrow:

The Diaries of the Cŵn Annwn

Alpha (planned publication May 2016)

Beta (planned publication August 2016)

Yr Ddraig (planned publication May 2019)

The Hellfire Pack

Cysgodion (planned publication Summer 2018)

Merysekhmet (published Spring 2017)

Toho (published April 2018)

Medved (planned publication December 2018)

Ma’iitsoh (planned publication early 2019)

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, unless clear reference is made to an actual location. Otherwise any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Jo Vincent-Pilsworth and Angela Keys assert the moral right to be identified as the authors of this work. All rights are reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which is it published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Book cover designed by Jo Vincent-Pilsworth.

contents

Personal ponderings

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Epilogue

A note from the authors

Sample from Ma’iitsoh

PERSONAL PONDERINGS: MATES

Mates. Different species have different traditions. Some say that only 'true' Mates may produce young. Some say that one's Mate is chosen by the Gods. I don't know about others, only my own parents.

English mother and Russian father. Twenty years before my birth, that would have been nigh on impossible. The Cold War was very real. Some might say that current politics are a resurgence of just that. I can't say that being told it was a surprise, that I had something of a family tradition to uphold as a male descendant of my mother's line. Education in the English private school environment, knowing that my career involved the British Army. That tradition is not something that is discussed in open fora. It just is.

But Mates? My mother met my father. There was definitely something there. One must only look at them to know that. It is the little things: a brief holding of hands, the way her eyes light up in seeing him, that little smile when he sees her. Romance is not a bad thing. My grandparents raised me once I moved to the UK, and I would see those same things between them.

Why does this matter to me? I was at a naval base in the USA, training with a unit similar to my own, loosely, because with the best will in the world, my own unit in the British Army is ... somewhat unique. A night out. A first sight of a a female. Barely a touch between us, but she is seldom far from my thoughts.

If there is one thing I regret it is that what I must do for the greater good might tarnish her perspective of me.

MEDVED: CHAPTER 1

Ruminations

It was going to be a cold night, considering that it was supposed to be Spring. Sergei laughed to himself as he leant forward to turn the two rabbits he was spit-roasting over an open fire. The occasional spark flew from a drip of fat, but not much. Rabbits were lean meat mostly. Not his first choice but then he was travelling light and staying in his human form. Lugging a deer carcass around was not practical. And hey, at least it wasn't raining.

Courtesy of his brother, he had a tent, sleeping bag and all the kit he needed. He'd even hired a Triumph Tiger Explorer complete with touring kit, so he could be mobile. After all, the wild camping rules said he had to set up camp away from the road. Didn't say he had to be walking, although most wild campers were backpackers. He needed the time to think. It had been two years since he and that little Naval Analyst had been taken. And it had taken most of the two years to convince the Doc, as he was called, that he might be trusted. Even then, it was not a done deal, but it had been sufficient for him to achieve his longer-term goal.

A snapped branch had him on alert, until his nose told him that it was animal not human. Returning to his ruminations, Sergei wondered what had happened to the little analyst. She had managed to escape, after one of the other 'experimental subjects' had gone crazy ... quite deliberately, Sergei suspected. He had been as surprised as hell when she had reappeared, not once, but twice. His brother's Intel had not mentioned anyone other than the Cŵn Annwn, but the male had been paranormal, without a doubt.

There had been pandemonium that somehow the pair had interfered with the computers. They had, but Sergei chose to minimise the apparent effect of their work, when he had been ordered by the Doc to check for 'damage'. That had told him there was more going on than met the eye, both with the analyst and the mystery male. Then just recently, she had popped up again, this time with many more. Their aim was plain. They intended to shut down that facility.

Unfortunately, they didn't seem aware that the Virginia facility was not the only one. When he felt 'recovered', Sergei knew he would have to resume his mission and that was going to take him to Europe. But for now, all that mattered were the slowly roasting pair of rabbits over his fire.

That, and recalling that little newbie analyst and the night when everything had gone crazy.

-x-

Karma had decided she needed a vacation. She no longer had any excuses. She, Marcus, and Sarah-Jane had spent days weaving some pretty intricate webs and already their time and creativity was paying off, however the pack worked so seamlessly they had settled in, quickly delegated and she began to feel a bit, unneeded. So she threw herself into her combat classes and her training. She sparred and did weapons training with the group and was finding it invigorated her. In the beginning she had sported some amazing bruises, but now she was back to holding her own and then some. The only place she was not excelling was in her transformation. It was uncomfortable, it hurt, and once there she didn't feel like she belonged in the skin. It wasn't clicking for her and she wasn't sure what she was doing wrong. Lately she had become very distracted and was actually ok with stepping back a bit.

She grabbed a bottled water from the fridge and logged in to check and see if there were any actions or requests being sent to her and nothing. Another swig and her eyes lit on the date. She blinked. She hadn't given it any thought but she supposed that memories could hit you, even if you didn't want to acknowledge them. Now she wanted something much stronger then water.

It had been almost four years ago maybe three. She frowned it didn't really matter as it felt as if it was lifetimes ago. There were parts of that night that she remembered, but not the important parts. Not where they had come from, not anything that helped her make sense of any of it. She did however remember the excitement ....

Very little was going to sink her mood she had thought as she had changed into something much more comfortable. More bar wear, jeans a little tighter than her day wear, makeup more pronounced, hair a little more daring. She and a few of the others who had gathered for a quick PT and ballistics camp, to be followed up by a security conference and some special exercises, had decided to end the week with drinks at a bar just off base that had served service men and women for decades.

She had perhaps a bit more to celebrate that night as one of her goals, a golden apple of sorts was within reach. Much would depend on their evaluation of her performance that weekend but a few whispered words of encouragement had left her confident. She hoped that it was an impressive enough promotion that even her Gramps would forgive her for being a damn cyber spy. She was more than that, she had picked up teaching a course or two.

How young that girl seemed in memory, it was remarkable how time could age you, not so much your face but your eyes, your soul. That girl had been adorably confident and ready to take on the world. Letting her hair down.

Memories got a bit jumbled the closer they came to the moment things had gone dark.

The bar was a favorite of just about every service person in town as the owner himself was a former Marine. He had great prices, great stories, could book some amazing musicians and females of any rank could walk in the door and know that Hal would be watching over them as if they were one of his own. Very little she recalled except the man, the British officer. He had been mesmerizing. She thought he may have even tried to help. That's where things got incredibly fuzzy, someone had been shot. Had it been him? No. It had been Allie. Allie had been shot and then. She didn't know she had never seen Allie again. She had heard a terrible roar, not aware at that time that it could have come from her own throat.

-x-

That night the music of the live band had been so loud you could hardly hear yourself think. She had been drinking a Belgian white and had been trying to convince herself it wasn't so very bad, if you pretending it was sort of like a very bitter tea. It sure as hell wasn't beer, yet as it began to look like she was going to be the designated driver, one would be enough.

She was however generous to Allie and a couple of the other guys as they shared drink and appetizer tabs, Tomorrow back to a strict regimen, tonight was to celebrate.

Kaaate. Allison’s inebriated, and overly loud whisper had her leaning in to support her. Don't look now but smoking hottie at seven o’clock.

While Allison’s sense of direction and time was somewhat skewed it was not difficult to figure out who she was talking about and it was all Kaitlyn could do to not stare. She had seen many well built men in her lifetime, she’d grown up military but there was just something about him, a presence that commanded her attention. Her breath caught the moment he was certain he was being observed and steely eyes caught hers, her breath caught, she shifted in her chair, and forcibly tore her gaze back to a chuckling Allison. See? She smirked. Wow Kate! I haven't ever seen you flustered. The redhead laughed.

I’m not. Another sip at the warm and now foul Belgian Ale and her pulling a face.

Sure, could have fooled me.

Stow it! Annoyed she slammed down the offending warm beverage and rose. I’m really not.

Prove it.

You are so childish sometimes. She exhaled and ran her hands through her hair. Prove it how?

It’s a bar Kate. Talk to him, flirt, get him to buy you a drink. Occasionally, I think you are hopeless.

There were days Kate thought the same thing, her relationship track record was pathetic, mainly because as a woman in a predominantly man’s world she was hyper aware of how relationship dynamics could bleed into professional lives and had seen it derail more than a few careers, and it was usually the female who had to give up everything they had worked for. There was not a man alive in her estimation who was worth all that hassle. She then choked back an accompanying snort. Who the hell was she kidding? She was a perfectionist? Her last boyfriend had flat out called her a control freak and she was; she detested awkwardness and failure. Truth had hurt, but there were hot cinnamon rolls with cream cheese icing at Gran’s kitchen and she had drowned her sorrows in sticky sweet goodness and spirited debate with her Grandfather and then jumped back into doing what she did best.

All right. I’ll do it.

Do what?

Talk to him… flirt with him?

Really? Now this I gotta see.

You stay! You can see well enough where you are.

-x-

Damn! The man at seven o clock was built like a freaking tank. She wasn’t a short woman but pretty sure she would feel almost dainty were he to stand. Sweet little baby in the manger! She blinked and approached him, then her mouth went predictably dry as went blank completely at a loss for what to actually say. So instead of falling flat on her face she did what any other self-respecting woman would do in her shoes, she walked right past him, and went to the bar to order another drink. Perhaps something a little stronger would be in order.

What the hell was that? Allie hissed quickly materializing at her elbow.

Strategic She muttered as she tried to flag down a passing bartender.

You, me, my office.

You don't aspire to much. She shook her head as she had allowed herself to be lead to the lavatory.

-x-

Sergei had been in the bar with the guys he had been training. There was nothing in their manner of dress that indicated that he was from a specialist unit in the British Army just as the Americans had no insignia. Well, no clear insignia, but there was a manner about them, the way they stood both as individuals and as a group, each covering the others. It was a skill worn like a second skin, and was one of the reasons why these 'training exchanges' took place. Allies were supposed to look out for each other, but the gods only knew how long that would last with the present political situation.

However, tonight was not about training or about being on duty, or planning the next mission. Tonight, was to relax, as much as they could relax. So, at the same time that Sergei had become aware of the newbie Naval Analysts and their whispered conversations, so had the other guys. The difference was that they were interpreting body language, where Sergei could hear the whispered conversation.

Target acquired. One of the Americans murmured to him, without looking at the two women as they made their way past to visit the Ladies' Room.

Very funny. Sergei took a sip of the beer in his hand.

Dare you to take the initiative. The murmur caused Sergei to raise a brow. Well, they ain't the usual base bunnies. The American pointed out, using a slightly derogatory term for a female determined to notch as many serving personnel on her proverbial bedpost.

Sergei had a half smile on his lips. He was due to fly back to the UK the following day. The investigations he had carried out as a secondary aspect to training with the Americans had revealed information which he needed to communicate in person. It had been a while since he had let go. He shrugged mentally. What harm could it do? Dare taken. He responded.

He didn't look towards the Ladies' Room to see if the two females had emerged but a slight inhalation told him that they were headed back. He waited until they were level. The slim, dark-haired one, the one who had been eyeing him was closest, so he touched her arm. Care for a dance? His clipped British accent was slightly exaggerated to make it clear that he wasn't just another jarhead from the base.

The band had been playing some fairly lively tunes, so there was no harm in asking her for a dance. It wasn't as it if would lead to anything. To his surprise, she nodded. Okay, maybe the nudge from her friend had something to do with it. With a hand under her elbow he escorted her to the dance floor, his other hand still grasping the neck of his beer bottle. Yeah, romantic ... not, but then the ingrained habit of ensuring his drink wasn't spiked was difficult to break.

That was when the worst case scenario occurred. The band, in their infinite wisdom decided to Do something different. This is our take on Gary Moore's 'Need Your Love So Bad' the lead singer announced, just as they reached the dance floor.

Sergei shrugged. You will lose the dare if you go back without a dance. He murmured for the Analyst's ears only. Officer's honour, I will behave. He promised. He drained the beer bottle and left it on a nearby table, before taking her hand as the guitarist struck up the opening chords. Sergei had to give it to him, he was good. The Analyst nodded and joined him in a loose embrace appropriate for a slow dance. Swaying slowly to the music, Sergei allowed himself to relax. After all, since he was flying home the next day, it wasn't like this could mean anything ... Except, he realised that it did.

His mother had described it as a plummeting feeling in the stomach, coupled with a feeling like your soul taking flight. Poetic as hell, but damn if it wasn't accurate. A human? His potential Mate was a human? An American? Then again, he was born of a mating between an Englishwoman and a Russian. Well, it wasn't like she would know what was happening, but Sergei could not help the infinitesimal tightening of his hold on her, or the urge to encourage her to rest her head against him as the music wove a spell around them. A bear could dream, even if it was only for the eight minutes or so of the song.

She arched an eyebrow as if to say, you are one of those before stepping forward into the circle of his arms. Interesting choice. He plays well, looks like you are stuck with me a bit.

Then in a very quiet whisper she teased Relax, I don't bite. Kate paused and licked her lips. Officer’s honour. She chuckled, a bit alarmed by how warm she was getting and how much she was suddenly fascinated by this man in front of her. Sweet Jesus! Maybe Allie was right ... She bit her lower lip gently as if the pain could rein in where her thoughts so happily wanted to go. She was heading back to DC in the freaking morning, red eye, no time to even consider it. But he looked even more delicious his body a mere few inches from her own. Dear God, this blues guitar and seductive sound might just cause her to thoroughly embarrass herself.

I should probably warn you, the bartender is going to keep his eyes on Captain Murphy's girl but don't worry, his bark is much worse than his bite. Besides there's absolutely nothing to worry about should your intentions remain honourable. Kaitlyn sincerely hoped she didn't sound as disappointed as she felt and to belay the seriousness business her body had undertaken she couldn't help but take a bit of a try at the accent, leave things on a light note. She also knew from having been stationed over there how they all hated that.

As they swayed her warm breath teased the skin of his throat, just below his ear what the hell was she thinking? She took a deep breath as if she could reset her hormones with something as simple as oxygen and wondered what the hell sort of cologne all but rendered common sense completely useless.

PERSONAL PONDERINGS: BROTHERLY LOVE ...?

I need your help looking into something.

I should have known that my brother wouldn't ask something starting like that without a damn good reason, but where had it left me?

I was on the run, with most who had met me likely to be convinced that at best, I hadn't been able to withstand torture inflicted by some seriously sick individuals. Or, at worst, I was the worst sort of traitor to 'my kind', shifters, those born with the ability to assume an animal form.

In my case, it was bear. Kodiak to be precise, which might explain my 'built like an outhouse' physique. Very useful playing second row in rugby, mind you.

However, back to the story. It all started with those simple words in a phone call from my brother. Had I known that it would mean taking more than a leave of absence from ... Actually, can't really talk about that side. But, I enjoyed what I did. I had no plans to resign my commission, but I did come close. Had no choice, I thought.

Now? Effectively, I am on the run. I might have funds as provided by my brother through one of his shell companies. So, I was on the run and solvent. But, I was still on the run, with no real idea as to who might be chasing me. The only thing that was certain was, as the song title said ... There may be trouble ahead

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*

One of the rabbits roasting over the campfire was ready to eat now. Moving the other so that it was not over the direct heat, and continued to cook slowly, Sergei decided to eat it straight from the stick, rather than bother with dropping it into a mess tin and using cutlery. Chewing slowly, he continued to contemplate what had happened.

The thing was, there was so much more than just a chance meeting with the newbie Naval Analyst in the bar, and any thoughts he might have about her. He had a reason for being in the USA, which went beyond a training exchange with a group of American special forces, his supposed opposite numbers in the American armed forces. Sergei smiled to himself. Face it, that rivalry would always exist with each organisation having its own secrets. But both his CO and his brother had agreed that the training exchange gave him a convenient excuse. Given his sub-speciality with electronics and computers, it would also not be unexpected that he would use the clearances open to him whilst training with the Yanks to do some investigations of his own.

Taking a swig of water from the canteen at his side, Sergei recalled that it had been a while since he had drunk anything other than water. Not since that night when the proverbial had hit the fan. Prior to that, his last alcohol consumed had been with his brother. Vodka, in true Russian style, when they had met up so that his brother could communicate what he knew and what he wanted Sergei to confirm.

Sergei shook his head. If he had known then ...? But he hadn't. The information his brother had came from some of his European contacts. As the titular ursine shifter 'ruler' for what had been called the Warsaw Pact area in the old days, reports had filtered in to him that not just ursine shifters, but other species, were missing younger members. They were generally in their early twenties and had been both males and females. Not enough vanishing to cause an issue with the human authorities, since given that most of them had been living lives as humans. But, since Alexandr held the position that he did, even with ursine shifters being spread out over a large geographical area, he had noticed a pattern. He had contacted other leaders, and a picture had started to emerge. Subtle, but there was a picture nonetheless.

Finishing the first rabbit, Sergei licked his fingers clean, taking another swig from the canteen.

The initial problem had been that the disappearances could have been explained as hunting accidents for some. A wolf, a bear running in their animal form. A chance shot by a hunter. Life ended and parents left to mourn in private, because they could not acknowledge the loss of their child. But that had been the way of things for centuries. The paranormal world living alongside the human world, but living in secret, to avoid the risk of mob-driven persecution, particularly in view of some of legends that existed in Eastern Europe about those who had more forms that the obvious human one.

The legends about the Cŵn Annwn was one such set of stories, that a creature of Welsh legend had chosen to live in the Carpathian region before and during the Second World War. They had moved away, rumoured to the USA afterwards. The difference way that Sergei's grandfather had actually encountered them. He and his brother had agreed that, if necessary, he would call on the Cŵn Annwn for back-up, but both had hoped that would not be necessary.

He hadn't had a chance to find them yet, but it was clear, as he reached for the second rabbit, that it was pretty close. What had gone down, both that night at the bar and in the subsequent two years, had the potential for ... how did his American counterparts put it ... a fucking shitstorm of epic proportions.

-x-

That night in the bar. Dancing to a well-played cover of Gary Moore's Need Your Love So Bad and realising that the human Naval Analyst might be more that just a dance partner for an evening. She was human, though. That was the problem. It would have been difficult enough for her to comprehend having a ... life-partner who was in the British SAS, let alone in the unit in which he actually served. How would a human cope with knowing that said individual was also a bear shifter? In his line of work, having a significant other was a liability. That was why most of them were single, until such time that they returned to 'regular' units. No one would be at greater risk from the sorts of individuals whom he targeted than a 'significant other'. They always made such delightful soft targets when the perpetrator had the lack of conscience so common in their ilk.

As he relished the second rabbit, Sergei's mind cast back to that night in the bar, to that dance, to that realisation and then, to the events which followed.

Eight minutes of holding the human Naval Analyst in his arms, having her scent fill his mind, and then escorting her back to her group of friends whilst he returned to the team with whom he had spent the past six weeks in training. The slaps on his back, and the quickly proffered beer told its story straight enough. Well done to the Brit for having snagged the Analyst. Dare duly won, and beer was duly supplied.

He made a point of facing the group of analysts and raising his beer in salute. Better than she thought he was just another jarhead-type and nothing more special involved. That way, no one would consider that she might mean more and no one would paint a bloody big target on her back as a result. But, as he turned back to the others, a door had opened somewhere and a breeze blown through the bar. Instinctively he had inhaled, and picked up a truck-load of fear pheromones, which had his protective side roaring to the fore. Taking another slurp from his beer, he nudged one of the Yanks.

You carrying? He asked quietly. The Yank stilled and nodded imperceptibly.

What's up? His voice was equally quiet.

Might be nothing. Sergei watched as the Analyst, as he was calling her, stood with her friend. The pheromones were coming from the other young woman, and small frown crossed Sergei's features. He watched the two women make their way to the rear of the bar, to a door leading out to the alley. If I am not back in ten, come looking. Sergei instructed.

A nod from the Yank, as Sergei left his beer on the bar, and followed the two women. The pheromones were unmistakable now. For some reason, the other female sang with tension and fear. But not 'his' Analyst. What the hell was going on?

-x-

It's never a good thing when someone you believed to be a friend pulls a weapon on you. Definitely a bad situation. That much showed on his Analyst's face. It was the last thing that she expected from her friend.

Allie? Sergei heard the urgency in her question. He doubted that she was carrying herself. After all, this had probably been intended as a simple night out with friends. Allie had gestured with the weapon, indicating that she wanted his Analyst to precede her through the door.

I had no choice, Kate. The weapon waggled again. Move. Allie's voice sounded shrill, as if Sergei needed any confirmation that she was being forced to a course of action which did not sit well with her. They have my sister. They said they would kill her if I didn't do it. I can't lose my kid sister. She's the only family I have left.

Clearly deciding that it was best to do as she was told, Kate, his Analyst, moved through the door, but to Sergei's surprise, she did not attempt to kick the door backwards. Damn, she trusted her friend still, and didn't want to hurt her. His smile was grim. He was not constrained by that friendship, which might be all to the good.

Faster, Kate. Allie waggled the weapon again, as she followed her out to the alley. Damn, problem. He had to move carefully, or they would see him come out of the door. Then caution went to the wind at the sound of gunfire. The sound seemed to have come from the little handgun which Allie had been holding on Kate. Shouldering the door open, Sergei took in the sight of Kate struggling with several males. Give her credit, but Kate was not going quietly, that was for sure, as she elbowed one potential kidnapper, stamping her foot with its far from pleasant stiletto down on another attacker's foot.

Don't hurt her. Doc wants her in one piece. Sergei had heard that 'name' before, in doing his research for his brother, There were six of them, all of them with the tell-tale bulge of a weapon, but it was a weapon which none were using on Kate. The same couldn't be said for Allie, as she lay slumped against the wall of the building, the growing blood stain on her dress telling its own story.

Sergei roared as he charged. Standard rugby tackle, as he threw himself into the group trying to drag Kate to a waiting van. It gave her a bit of a break, and she renewed her efforts to escape whilst he slammed a fist into one of the attackers, dropping him to the concrete surface.

Back off, jarhead. This is none of your business. One of the abductors snarled at Sergei.

Lady doesn't want to go with you. That makes it my concern. He replied shortly, He smiled coldly. And, I am no jarhead. Sergei's words were accompanied by another punishing strike to a would-be attacker. The second assailant hit the deck. A swift kick to his head ensured he was not going to be standing any time soon, if at all. Her attackers seemed to have decided that he posed a problem, with just a couple focussing on her, whilst the remaining three paid attention to him. That suited him, because clearly his Analyst was quite capable of fighting back.

With another roar, Sergei decided it was time to up the ante a bit. This time the roar was less human and more Kodiak bear on a bad day. At the same time, his left hand sprouted the six inch claws of his species. One of the three trying to take him down hit the deck, his intestines spilling out as a result of Sergei's claws tracking across his gut. Taking advantage of the lull, he yelled at Kate. Run, Kate. Get back inside and alert my team.

And damn, but she ignored him, renewing her own attack on the two trying to restrain her.

They had shot her! Allie! Karma remembered she had been relatively calm and calculating her next potential moves right up until the moment she heard the gunshot and saw the petite redhead crumple. On some plane up until that moment there had still be a chance for redemption in her mind, but at the cold blooded murder of a terrified woman caused her to see red. Allie provided for her little sister! As one man came at her she swung and caught him so hard along his jaw line she could almost feel bone crack. That's what you get asshole! She thought but somehow, he remained standing. She heard the Brit roar and saw a man flying across the alley.

He had urged her to run but she had hesitated, only to find her hair seized and she was jerked of her feet painfully. Her eyes watered yet she tried to regain her footing on her stupid shoes, fire burned her scalp as if he were going to rip every strand of hair from her head as he and the other man tried to physically stuff her in the waiting van, so she dead weighted throwing one of them momentarily off balance. Someone swore and within moments there was a hot flush in her body, her mouth watered and she could taste some sort of metal. She let out a frustrated scream of rage as her stomach clenched and she struggled to keep her eyes open. God admit!