Re-entering the fortress was like crawling back into the mouth of a shark. I slipped through the kitchen vents, the smell of burnt meat and expensive wine now replaced by the cloying, sweet scent of iron.
The kitchen was a wreck…copperpots scattered across the floor, the industrial fridge riddled with bullet holes.
I moved through the pantry, my feet silent on the linoleum. I needed a weapon. A steak knife was good for a throat at close range, but I wasn't going to win a war with cutlery.
I found what I was looking for near the service entrance: a fallen guard, one of Ryker’s men. I recognized him…he was the one who had brought me extra blankets on my third night. He was slumped against the wall, his eyes open and glassy. I closed them with a shaking hand, then reached for his holst
