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Part LVIII “Halt!” a voice cried. “I mean it! Stop!”
Quatre felt Dorothy stiffen behind him as he obediently stilled. He quickly began to weigh the few but different options he had. Things would be easier if he didn’t have her with him, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret the decision now. “Bring your hands where I can see them—slowly,” the voice commanded. She grabbed a fistful of his coat, pulling herself against him. “Follow my lead,” she whispered. Without warning, she whirled them around to face their captor. The young man’s gun shook as he came face to face with him. Quatre was just grateful that the guy hadn’t pulled the trigger of the automatic weapon in his shock. “M…Miss Catalonia?” he squeaked. “What’s going on?” “I found this man wandering in the basement,” Dorothy answered calmly. “I captured him and was about to turn him over when you found us.” “What was he doing in the basement?” “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” She dug her finger in his back as if she was pressing a gun into his skin. He kept his expression blank but the young soldier’s eyes widened further. “Don’t let me keep you, ma’am,” he said quickly. “I can provide additional escort if you like.” “That won’t be necessary,” she said dismissively. “I can handle him. You are needed elsewhere.” As if to prove her point, a blast rattled the walls around them. The lights flickered in protest but stayed on. The young man looked from the ceiling to the steely gaze of Dorothy Catalonia. He gave her a brief salute before running off. “I can’t believe he made the cut to be transferred,” she muttered as she stepped back from Quatre. He turned to face, studying her intently for a moment. He doubted that if he lived a hundred years he could ever figure her out. He was glad that she was apparently on his side. For the moment, anyway. “We’d best keep moving,” he said as he started walking. “Lead the way, captive.” |
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