Twenty-Five #2
That’s when I remember my phone. We arrive in what must be a chamber above the attic, no more than three feet of clearance between the plywood floor and the insulation-laden roof, and it’s hot as hell, but the good news is it’s holding us all. For now.
“Everyone here? I can’t see much. I know I’ve got Clement, but Monet?” I call softly, needing reassurance that everyone’ s here.
“Here,” he whispers.
“Calloway?”
“Here.”
“Moon?”
“Here.”
“Anderson?”
“Here.
“Edric?”
“Here.”
“Okay, good. What do we do now?” Fable breathes, gripping onto me.
I pull my phone out, and the call has been disconnected but I call again, hoping they can send somewhere here in time.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“Hi, so I can’t talk loud, but we’re currently hiding in some sort of attic space. We need some help, asap. There’ a pack of armed vampire alphas trying to take our omega away from us, and they’re pretty unhinged.”
“What’s the address, sir?”
I rattle it off, cringing for every second that passes without something good happening.
“Okay, I’ve got it in my system. It looks like officers are already en route, but I’d like to keep you on the line just to be sure. Are you in a safe location?”
Gunfire starts going off, not near us at the moment, but it’s only a matter of time before they blow through the right wall. “Not really. They don’t know which room we’re in, but there are only so many for them to blow apart before they hit the right one.”
I can’t let my omega just sit here and hope she doesn’t get shot. We failed her once with this dangerous pack, and I’m not willing to let it get that far again. I hand the phone to Monet, making sure to kiss Fable in case something happens, before crawling away with Edric.
He follows behind me, ignoring Fable’s protests. She knows exactly what we’re doing, and I may be just a clothing designer, but I’ve been in some bad situations and I mostly know how to fight.
It’s a little slow going trying to find the same openings we entered from, but if all we can do is keep them busy downstairs and far from Fable, then we’ll have been successful. Even if we get shot doing so.
It’s actually incredibly jarring that no matter which wrong turn we take, which direction we go, that Fable’s scent is soaked into the wood beams. How many times did she have to crawl through walls in order for them to smell like her almost more than Winslow did?
We angle down until the gunfire feels like its right below us, though it’s less often now because they’re probably trying to conserve ammo.
If I understood correctly when I was asking Fable about this place the other day, nearly every room has an access point somewhere, so we just have to figure out how to get to a spot where we can see the alphas and try and sneak up behind them.
They know we’re here somewhere, obviously, but maybe Winslow’s crazy-ass secret hallways will save us.
The stealth option disappears, however, when we lean a bit too far over from the stud and end up falling right through the ceiling.
The gunfire starts up immediately as we roll and try to avoid it, getting grazed across the back of my calf before I give up trying to stay safe and go for broke, with the mindset that I need to protect my pack and I need to protect my mate.
Let’s hope Edric is bulletproof and crazy enough to follow.
The asshole’s gun chooses the ideal time to run out of bullets, his eyes widening as I tackle him and start pummeling, beating his face until he stops fighting back.
There’s an annoying gnat behind me, sticking me with something kind of pointy, but with the adrenaline running through me and the threat to my mate, it really doesn’t fucking matter.
Just to seal the deal, I start drinking from him, sucking out all his power because I wonand I need to make sure everyone else knows it.
Feeling his life force run out as I get stronger from it is euphoric, and when his heart finally stops I drop him like the piece of shit he is, turning to make sure my packmate is okay.
Edric has the other guy pinned down, though his side is wet with blood, dripping all over the joke of an alpha under him. Fable’s not going to like that.
By that point their third pack member, Zach, the only one we actually conversed with and know the name of, shows up in the doorway, breathing hard with pure manic overriding all his features.
He must have felt his two packmates die off in their bond, knew what he was going to be walking in on, and he’s just wild enough to be unpredictable.
I watch as his eyes flick to the ceiling, the hole that Edric and I tumbled out of, knowing that’s where my pack is.
Like he’s moving in slow motion, he reaches into his hoodie pocket and I’m already diving towards him, because he’s about to aim something deadly at the light of my life.
I don’t even fucking care that a bullet passes through my shoulder as I take him down, reaching up to hold his pulse under my hands as I steal it from him, because he can’t hurt my pack if he’s dead.
I’m too full to drink him up, so I just twist his neck enough to snap it, not moving until I know he won’t again.
His hand goes lax and drops the gun, Edric kicks it away, and I’m up in the next second to make sure the rest of my pack is safe.
Sirens start bounding off the front of the house, a bit too late for my liking, but I only make it a few steps before my knees buckle, and I’m going down too fast to stop.
Edric calls for the others and the front door smashes inward from somewhere below us, and the last thing I remember is the delicate scent of crushed Wisteria washing over me as I close my eyes.