Free Winter's Wrath: Sacrifice (Winter's Saga #3) by Karen Luellen Page B

beakers, vials and costly medical equipment that made the coolest shattering sounds when thrown against the cement walls.
    Moments later, Creed began crawling, slowly at first, then with more determination and resolve.  He knew where he was going. 
    The partially obscured refrigerated cabinet at the back of the lab looked very unassuming from the outside, but in it laid the two vials of the Infinite serum Evan created using his own blood.  He prayed as he crawled, willing his body to move with speed it was incapable of in its state of abuse. 
    The contents of the room w ere flying overhead and crashing — arbitrarily punctuated with primal screams of destructive joy from the rabid dogs. 
    Creed nearly cr ied with relief when he reached the cabinet unnoticed by the destruction-happy mutant soldiers.  With his broken hand, he reached out and carefully punched the security code using his swollen, sausage-thick pinkie finger, unlocking the cabinet. 
    Cold air blasted his face when he opened the door.  There, among containers of other substan ces of unknown origins and uses were the two precious, clear vials Creed was looking for.  On their sides were simple white labels with Evan’s neat script that read, “Infinite” and the telltale ∞ symbol.
    “What have you found, Creed?” It wasn’t Gavil’s voic e, but one of the other rabid dogs who finally noticed Creed clutching the bottles protectively to his chest with his swollen hands as he leaned against the wall next to the refrigerated cabinet—the door still hanging ajar.
    Creed said nothing.  He just waited.
    “Gavil, I think Creed found what we’re looking for,” the meta hollered over the sounds of breaking glass.  The sounds stopped.  Boots crunched menacingly closer until Creed saw the haunted eyes of his brother. 
    “Hand it over,” Gavil hissed, his breathing ragged.
    Creed didn’t move.  He didn’t know what he was waiting for, but he thought he’d know it when he saw it.
    “Give me the serum, damn it! ” Gavil growled reaching down to snatch the vials from his younger brother’s broken hands.
    That’s when Creed saw it: The detonator.  It was in Gavil’s breast pocket.  The outline was distinct and the tip of its silver antenna peeked out—glinting light like a jewel in a wasteland.
    With speed Gavil didn’t see coming, Creed yanked the remote out of Gavil’s pocket, ripping the shirt in the process.
    A slow smile spread across Creed’s face.  In one hand he still clutched the glass serum bottles, in the other, the means to blow them all sky-high.
    Gavil backed up two steps, aware he just lost the upper hand, hate dripping in the form of saliva off his snarling lips.
    “What are you going to do, Creed?  Blow yourself up?  Then who’s going to protect your precious Winter family?
    Creed wasn’t listening to his brother’s words; instead he was watching his every move as he used his elbows to pull himself to a standing position. 
    “Look at you, you piece of wasted crap!  You always were a useless shit!  You have no idea what you’re doing.  Things are different, Creed.  Williams is different.  A lot of shit has gone down since you left Germany , asshole, and I don’t have time to explain it to you.  Just give me the damn serum—then you can blow yourself to hell, for all I care!”  Gavil screamed.
    Only a fraction of Creed’s brain was registering the venom Gavil’s demented mouth spewed.  He was more focused on what he knew he had to do.  As his brother ranted, Creed calmly typed the six–digit code into the detonator.   Then, even as he swayed, maintaining his stance out of sheer will, he raised his hand holding the vials and with all the anger and determination of a man who knew he was going to die, slammed them against the cement countertop.  The vials shattered, spraying their contents with thin shards of glass. 
    For a moment Gavil stared, jaw agape.  Then his face contorted with rage.