The world didn't explode. It condensed.
One second, I was tasting freedom. The next, the air behind me was no longer empty. It became an arm, thick and unyielding as an iron bar, snaking around the king's neck. A second shape, a blur of pure motion, detached from the wall to my left and lunged for me.
My scream died before it was born, strangled by pure, animal shock.
Time didn't slow. It fractured. I saw everything in jagged, horrifying snapshots.
Snapshot: Stellan's body, rigid with instant understanding. Not fear recognition. This was a language he knew. His head snapped back, not away from the chokehold, but into his attacker's face. I heard the wet, sickening crunch of cartilage.
Snapshot: The man coming for me. Eyes flat and dead above a black mask. His hand, swathed in a dark cloth, filling my vision. The sweet, chemical smell hit my nose a millisecond before the fabric slammed over my mouth.
NO! The thought was a primal roar inside my skull. Not again! Not after the fire, not after running, not now!
My body reacted before my mind could. Survival wasn't a thought; it was a spasm. I threw my weight backward, my elbow jabbing blindly. It connected with something solid—a stomach, a rib. A grunt of pain. Good. I clawed at the hand holding the cloth, my nails digging deep. I felt skin give way. My heel stamped down on a foot, grinding with all my strength.
Fight. Fight like you didn't get to fight five years ago.
But the cloth was there, soaked in that cloying, bitter sweetness. I held my breath until my lungs burned, thrashing like a netted bird. Spots danced at the edges of my vision.
Snapshot: Stellan was a vortex of violence. He'd twisted in the chokehold, his attacker's own leverage now used against him. With a brutal jerk and a roar that was more wolf than man, he flung the man bodily into a metal shelving unit. The crash was deafening. Cans and bottles rained down.
He turned toward me, his face a mask of feral rage. The Ice King was gone. In his place was pure Alpha, eyes blazing with blue-silver fire. "RELEASE HER!" The command wasn't loud. It was heavy, a wave of alpha power that rolled down the hallway and made my own bones vibrate. My masked attacker actually flinched.
For a glorious, hopeful second, I thought it was over. The king would end this.
Then the third shadow moved.
He came low and fast, tackling Stellan around the knees. The king went down with a crash, but he was already moving, turning the fall into a grapple. They were a tangle of lethal motion on the floor fists, elbows, the sickening thud of impacts.
And the fourth shadow arrived. Calm. Methodical. Holding another damp cloth.
No. No, no, no. My silent screams were a litany. I kicked again, connected with nothing. The chemical smell was in my nose, my throat, seeping into my brain. My struggles were weakening, my limbs turning to water.
Snapshot: The fourth figure knelt on Stellan's chest, pinning one massive arm. The king's other hand was a blur, snapping forward to grip the man's wrist. I heard the distinct, nauseating pop of a joint dislocating. A howl of pain.
But the cloth descended.
It covered Stellan's nose and mouth. He jerked his head violently, his neck muscles cording. He bucked, throwing the man on his chest partly off. For a second, his eyes found mine through the chaotic gloom.
The fury was still there, white-hot and terrifying. But beneath it, I saw something else crash in. Shock, as the drug hit his system. Then a dawning, incredulous helplessness. It was that last look that shattered something inside me. This unbreakable king, this force of nature, was being subdued. The machine was breaking.
His fierce struggles became jerky, uncoordinated. The hand that had dislocated a wrist with ease now scrabbled weakly at the cloth. His eyelids fluttered.
My own vision was tunneling, the hallway narrowing to a pinprick of light. The fight drained out of me, replaced by a leaden numbness. I was sinking into a warm, dark pool.
The last thing I saw, the image searing itself onto my dying consciousness, was Stellan's hand. His fingers, so strong moments before, were outstretched on the cold floor, reaching across the few feet that separated us.
They were inches from mine.
Then the dark pool closed over my head.