Pregnant And Rejected

Chapter 191 – Prison Break

3rd Person

The rebels struck at dawn.

Thousands of black clad bodies poured from the city’s un derground before the sun had even risen, charging forward with homemade weapons and magic wielders at their sides. Some of the outlaws shifted into their animal forms; wolves, bears and big cats nipping at the heels of those running on two feet, but others remained upright, wanting the freedom to carry knives, clubs and batons.

The Calypso security forces were completely unprepared for the assault, half of them falling where they stood, while the others ran to sound the alarms, warn their comrades or simply escape. It was Blaise’s greatest failing to be so cruel to those he trusted to defend his pack. When things were calm and individuals could be picked out for failing their duties, fear was more than sufficient to keep them in line. But amidst such chaos the sentries and guards held no loyalty for the tyrant, and had no interest in sacrificing their lives for his sake.

They were wise to run; the uprising did not only have the element of surprise on its side, its proponents also had years of rage and the passion of their cause driving them forward. They struck down guards right and left, taking advantage of the surprised scattering of defenders and trying to do as much damage as possible before Blaise’s entire army came down on them.

The rebel leaders remained at the center of the pack, sending their followers out in every direction to confuse

Blaise’s sentry. If everything went as planned the tyrant wouldn’t know their target until it was too late. He would think it was a run of the mill uprising intended to overthrow his court, not a highly strategic rescue mission for three prison ers. In truth they planned on freeing many more, but they doubted many were members of their fight. Blaise killed al most all of his opponents, unless they could be of use to him. Still, it was safe to say that most of the occupants of his dun geons did not deserve to be there.

Many of the outlaws knew they would not live to see the sunset, and further understood that their lives would be lost in what was primarily a show of smoke and mirrors. Still they fought, driven forward by the hope that their sacrifice would lay the foundations for the cause to succeed some day in the future.

Down in the dungeons, Bastien, James and Grayson heard the first signs of commotion within minutes. The rebels sta tioned outside the sprawling prison breached the walls just as the guard was changing, and though the men had been fast asleep, blaring alarms and the distant crashes and screams of battle soon roused them.

“I think this is it.” Grayson declared, an uncharacteristic note of hope in his deep voice.

we can meet them halfway.” Bastien proposed, remembering what his fellow prisoners had told him about their prior es cape attempts. When they discussed picking the locks he learned that James had figured out the method after about five years of trying, but he’d never been able to get beyond the two floors above them once free. There were simply too many guards,

extending his claws into the heavy iron lock on his

unlock their own cages, but Jame’s cell door swung open before either of them could succeed. The elder man rushed through the dark dun geon, unlocking first Bastien,

suspected that under the right conditions the man would be built like a tank, but he was so malnourished that only the shadow of the wolf he once

most recent member of their little crew to be imprisoned, he had the most energy and would have been

dispatched them while James freed the prisoners on the level above their cell, adding to their ragtag pack one outlaw at a time. One grisled, scarred shifter after another emerged from

help defend the prison, taking their keys with them. The locked door barring this level was not the sort James could pick with his claws, and the men looked at each

inquired mentally.

it. Grayson answered, standing

iron bars. Bastien grimaced, anyone have any

assembled shifters, still in human form. At first Bastien had assumed he simply wanted the use of his hands, but now as he moved closer he realized the man wasn’t a shifter at all. “Let me try.” The prisoner suggested, raising his hands. The faint tang of magic floated off of his skin, and the shifters watched with bated breath to see

gritted his teeth and thrust his hands towards the door lock, and the iron slowly began to glow. The man was clearly weak, with fresh bruises dotting his skin be neath his jumpsuit, but he eventually managed to send a powerful enough surge of magic outward with a heavy groan, and the door swung

they passed. The farther they made it, the stronger their hope became. This, James and Grayson realized, is what they’d been missing all these

was

helm, and every step he took brought him one step closer to Selene. It was all he could do to stay back with the other prisoners rather than racing ahead, knowing he was stronger

outlaws, and to Bastien’s surprise, Grayson tackled the huge wolf at the front of the rebel force and was soon rolling around with him like

Matthew? He asked James, unable to deci

that way. James confirmed wryly, I don’t think I’ve ever