They were all medics. Damn good medics, and Wyatt counted on the fact that Ezekiel had been looking out for his younger brothers his entire life. He rounded the corner of the building and skidded to a halt. Pepper was in the arms of one of the soldiers and she wasn’t fighting. Her arms were around his neck, her face nestled into his shoulder.

What the fuck, Pepper? Fury shook him. What the hell was she playing at?

Pepper stepped back and removed the guns from the soldier’s hands, still looking up into his eyes as if he was the only man in her world. The soldier’s mouth opened wide. He put out his hand toward her. She took it. Wyatt’s entire body stiffened. Coiled tight. He pulled out his knife.

Don’t be a fool. That was Trap. She’s working. Get to work yourself.

Trap moved past him, continued past Pepper, who never took her eyes from the soldier. Or dropped his hand. They just stared at each other. Wyatt realized Pepper’s eyes could mesmerize, hypnotize. The eyes of the cobra, but more. The soldier was drowning in her eyes, lost in the stars in her night-filled gaze. His legs went out from under him and he went to his knees. She didn’t let go. She stepped even closer and touched his face, holding his hand the entire time.

Movement to her left had Wyatt moving, shooting as he ran. The soldier coming toward Pepper, his semiautomatic in his arms, staggered back, the bullets spitting all around Pepper. She didn’t move. Didn’t acknowledge there was anyone but the man on his knees in front of her.

Wyatt kept shooting even when his target hit the ground. He stood over the soldier, yanked his weapons away and sent up a silent prayer the man was really dead. It was nearly impossible to tell anymore.

Trap hit the nearest soldier with both feet, driving him back and away from Pepper. He hit him hard, with every bit of enhanced strength he had. The soldier went flying, and he heard an audible, satisfying crack. Still, every bone in his body was jarred on impact, as if he’d kicked a steel wall.

He fell heavily, the breath knocked out of him. Almost immediately the other soldier loomed over him, weapon out, pointed straight at his heart. Trap actually saw him squeezing the trigger. Time slowed so that every small detail was etched into his mind. He knew he’d die that way, seeing it coming without a damned thing he could do about it. He got his hands under him to launch himself in the air, but the finger was already squeezing.

Out of nowhere masses of silk rained down between Trap and the soldier. The silk spun in a tight cocoon, caging the soldier and his gun in the silken threads until the soldier couldn’t move. The silk continued, spinning round and round so fast it made Trap dizzy. All the way up the body and neck to the mouth, the nose and eyes. The soldier fell hard, hitting the ground right beside Trap, but still the silk came, tighter and tighter, winding his enemy up until there was no possible way to move or breathe.

She came out of the night. She was more beautiful than he remembered. Her eyes were liquid, her skin perfect. She crouched down beside him and ran her hand over him. Gently. As if it mattered. It never mattered to anyone. Trap blinked at her. She’d killed a man in seconds. Seconds.

“We’re even,” she said softly.

“No we’re not.” He heard the words come out of his mouth and he meant them. “We’re not even, woman. Don’t think for one minute that we are.”

Her eyes flashed at him. Liquid. Smoldering. She hissed between her teeth, turned and leapt toward the side of the house, moving up and over it fast, heading around to the other side. He didn’t know if spider woman was escaping or going to help Draden. Right then it didn’t matter, because the soldier he kicked in the chest was slowly climbing to his feet and his eyes looked angry.

Chapter 20

Pepper felt bile rising in her throat at the sight of the soldier, his eyes locked on her with such hungry need. She’d killed him. She’d done it to save her children and Nonny, but not like this. The knife, the gun, was a far better way to die. She couldn’t let him die alone, not when she’d caused this. She’d never killed this way before and she knew, the moment he was gone, when the paralysis hit his lungs and he no longer could breathe, she would vomit.

She’d killed the soldier on the roof to protect Malichai, but she’d done it cleanly. This man looked as if he idolized her. He had to know he was dying. She doubted that he even realized she was the one to kill him. He was enthralled with her. For a moment his face blurred and she felt tears on her face.

He crashed to the ground, still staring at her. Gasping for breath. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his, not even when his adoring gaze began to fog over. He looked so happy. So satisfied. She cursed herself. Hated herself. Hated what she was.

Pepper. Behind you. Damn it, behind you.

She heard Wyatt’s voice as if it was far away. Wyatt. Everything good. How could she possibly have ever thought she belonged with him? Something hit her hard from behind and she slammed forward, falling, straight into the body of the soldier. She landed on the soldier, still staring into his eyes. She heard the rattle in his chest. Felt his last breath. She lay there on the man she killed, a weapon Braden and possibly Whitney had made her into. Maybe she killed him for the right reasons, but this was blasphemy.

A hard hand yanked her up. Wyatt stuck his face in hers. “Get movin’. Get back to the girls.”

She looked at him. His face was hard. Carved of stone. His eyes flat and cold. A crushing weight descended onto her chest and just sat there. He’d seen this abomination. He knew what she was.