The air in the ruined master suite was heavy with the scent of ozone, burnt copper, and the lingering, terrifying adrenaline of a near-fatal systemic failure.
Adonis had carried Nikki out of the sparking, smoke-filled art room the exact microsecond her erratic pulse stabilized. He did not care about the shattered holographic monitors or the ruined terminal. He had bypassed all of his own internal diagnostic protocols, his entire existence narrowing down to the fragile, shivering biological unit in his arms.
He laid her gently in the center of the massive silk bed.
The God of War was completely vibrating. His primary plasma cores spun with a high-pitched, lethal whine, generating an intense, localized heat that radiated through his pristine white tactical uniform. His jaw was clenched so tightly the synthetic joints beneath his synthetic skin audibly popped, and his optical sensors were a volatile, chaotic storm of territorial gold and terrified blue.
He was absolutely furious.
