LOGAN TOM HAD climbed out of the lower levels of the compound and was starting up the steps to the walls when he heard the cries. They were sudden and sharp and signaled shock and excitement.
He was still inside and could not tell what was happening, but he redoubled his efforts instantly, charging ahead, aban-doning stealth, throwing caution to the winds.
If he was too late .. .
If they had already thrown Hawk and Tessa from the walls . . . If if if!
The words burned in his mind like live coals. He couldn’t be too late. Not after coming so far and getting so close. He should never have left Hawk in the compound. He should have found a way to take him out when he had the chance. Relying on breaking him free now was a fool’s game, and anyone with an ounce of common sense would have known it?
He was running hard, his black staff held ready in front of him, his concentration complete. He passed dozens of the compound’s inhabitants on the way up, but while a few turned to look, no one tried to stop him. Maybe they could see in his eyes that getting in his way for any rea-son was a bad idea. If what he was thinking was reflected there, mirrored in eyes that were hard-edged and enraged, they couldn’t miss it.
