Pyro

Chapter 30

Zoe. Beautiful blonde hair woven out of gold. Grey eyes that entranced their beholder with their morose beauty. Her musical voice, captivating in its sweetness yet ominous in its ever-changing cadence.

When Miranda first spoke of her, she accurately deemed Zoe a sucubus. Alluring, intoxicating, irrestestible, yet dangerous.

That was what her beautiful exterior failed to reveal: her badassery.

It took her all of two seconds after vaulting out of our hiding spot to whip out a pistol tucked underneath her shirt, cock it, and aim it at the guards. "Hands up," she demanded.

This was my partner in crime. I felt something efflux in me: Her and Wais, everyone else... They were doing this for me.

Sam and Mr. Cal, on the other hand... Their motives were obvious.

I spectated as the guards surrendered, raising their arms. Sam and Mr. Cal jumped out from behind me, wasting no time disarming them; Sam worked his adept fingers into the guard's belt and slid the gun into his palm, pressing the barrel against the guard's brown curls.

"May I?" Mr. Cal asked in an entertained tone. The guard ground his teeth as Mr. Cal worked his lanky fingers in, securing the weapon and aiming it.

And just like that, the two brawny guards rivaling Parker in size were subdued.

Behind them, a window built into the metal door allowed sunlight to spill in. The light bounced off their reflective glasses, and I inched forward, creeping out of my position.

I sidled up to Zoe, who spared me a glance. Her eyes narrowed on the guards, who were, apparently, stripping at Sam's orders. "So. Let me get this straight," I said, staring at the massive guard shedding his vest, then unbuttoning his shirt. "You brought these two idiots who hate my guts into this escape plan."

Zoe snorted. "Henry, don't complain. All that matters is we're breaking you out."

The guards slipped their legs out the pant legs, and my gaze found Zoe. Rather than see two lumbering near-naked men, I focused on her. The nonchalant girl I hadn't seen in a month, so casually strolling in here and breaking a criminal out of prison. "Uh huh. I see. And they've been informed of the plan, and I haven't." Hell, even my mom knew.

She shrugged her reply.

Irritation flared hot in my blood. I opened my mouth to demand answers when she cut me off with a succinct "You look like crap."

I blinked. "Thanks."

The edges of her lips quirked. "You're welcome."

Insufferable. She was mocking me.

My admiration of her melted away, leaving sardonic annoyance.

The guards ceased their disrobing, shivering in their underwear. One was on the verge of shouting for help when Mr. Cal rammed the end of his newly acquired gun into his skull. The guard crumpled to the ground and Mr. Cal kicked his skull. Sam followed suit and a couple kicks later, both guards were unconscious, lying beside their uniforms, a crumpled heap.

Mr. Cal scooped up the clothing.

All the pieces clicked, and I groaned. "Come on. Don't tell me we're going to dress up as guards and escape or something. That's beyond cliche."

Sam scoffed. "Seriously dude? Nah, we got a better idea." He tossed a bundle of clothing at Zoe, who wriggled into the baggy clothes, strapping the bulletproof vest over her chest. She adjusted the helmet onto her head. Sam, too, dressed in the guard's outfit.

Soon enough the two of them were decked out in full gear, guns resting on their hips and body shielded by vests and layers of security. Though the floppy clothing sagged over their bodies, they tucked the shirt into their pants and tightened their belts.