HANS: Alliance Series Book Four

The elation of knowing Hans is close is overshadowed by the terror of knowing the man behind me is closer.

My lungs burn as I run as fast as I can down the hall.

The elevator is out of the question, not enough time, but there has to be stairs somewhere.

“Keep running, bitch!” the man shouts from not too far behind me. “This is my favorite part!”

A whimper catches in my throat.

I haven’t even seen the man’s face, but his voice is going to be burned into my memory.

Rooms blur by.

I just have to get to Hans.

I just have to find Hans.

He’ll destroy this man for me. I know he will.

The man laughs behind me.

I feel like he’s toying with me. Like he could have caught me by now.

I push my legs faster.

Just ahead, the wall on my left falls away.

Stairs.

I reach out with my left hand and, just as I pass, grab the railing that climbs up the wall.

My momentum whips me around until I’m looking down the stairs, straight at a woman with bright red hair, holding a gun pointed right at me.

“Down!” she shouts, and I let my legs collapse beneath me.

My butt hits the top step, and then she’s shooting.

The bullets fly over my head as I bounce down a few more steps, and I hear a gurgled cry from the man who’s been chasing me.

I duck my head, sliding down a couple more stairs, as the woman shoots once more.

My ears are ringing, but I still hear the thud of a body hitting the floor behind me.

I slide to a stop and open my eyes.

The woman is still standing on the landing, where the flight turns back to go down to the second floor, and from my spot on the steps, we’re nearly eye level.

She lowers her gun and smirks at me. “Cassandra, I presume?”

A noise between a laugh and sob bursts out of me, and I scramble down the last few steps and throw my arms around the woman.

Her body tenses against mine, and I quickly let go and step back. “Sorry. Sorry.” I brush the rogue tears off my face, forgetting and wincing at my bruised cheek. “You must be Karmine. It’s really nice to meet you.” I sniffle.

The intense woman looks at me like she isn’t quite sure what to do with me, then she lifts a radio to her mouth.

The noise of gunfire downstairs has intensified, but I still hear her words.

“I have the butterfly.”