Borshov blinked his remaining eye and focused on the large man that had just been pulled from the ice hole. There was a lot of distance between them and he had no sniper scope—it would be a long shot, but he had the high ground and there was nowhere for Alex Hunter to hide. If he missed on the first round, he would get another, and another.

He had plenty of time before Volkov’s men picked him up. He steadied his breathing and lined up on the HAWC leader’s head.

Seeing Alex now free, Aimee and Matt consented to be winched towards the rim of the large pit. Looking down, the surface of the ice was still remarkably clear and as Aimee rose she could make out the beautiful Aztlan court in all its fantastic detail. However, while Aimee watched, she could see something that refused to make sense to her already tired mind. The structures below the ice seemed to be falling away. The open courtyard that had been just outside the doorway looked to drop into a black pit and something mottled and sickly greenish seemed to now boil below its surface—a giant stain was spreading to cover the city once again, but this time not of ice, but of muscle and flesh. The roiling motion slowed and Aimee could make out what it was she was looking at.

A huge eye was rolling under the ice and Aimee felt it stop to fix first her, then Alex and the other marines with its cold stare. She screamed a warning as all hell broke loose down in the pit.

Alex was the first to sense the movement—a deep shuddering beneath their feet. Something grazed his temple and he ignored it to yell to the men in the ice pit.

“Everyone clear the area, out of the hole. Now!”

Alex’s warning got most of the marines moving to the ropes, however, some who were unfamiliar with the danger or Alex’s rank looked instead to O’Riordan—it was their fatal mistake.

The first two marines had buckled themselves onto the guidelines and depressed the lift studs when the ice in the centre of the pit exploded upwards.