Chapter 10
I stiffen as I hear a whistle…low, mocking, cutting through the quiet.
“Well, well. What’s a pretty thing like that doing with monsters like you?”
Runa stiffened. I froze, the rage immediately turning my vision red.
Two men stepped out from behind a stack of shipping containers, grinning like wolves. Irish fuckers, by the smell of whiskey and gunpowder that clung to them.
“Boss,” Colt murmured, stepping forward slightly, his hand now on his weapon.
“Don’t,” Volken said softly, dangerously calm. “They’re not here to talk.”
One of the Irish men spat to the side, leering at Runa. “Didn’t know the Bloods were recruiting toys now. Tell me, sweetheart, how much does he pay you to…”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
Volken moved faster than sight, a blur of shadow and violence. His hand closed around the man’s throat, the crack of bone sharp and final as he flung the body aside like trash.
The other man barely had time to swear before Colt fired, one clean shot between the eyes.
That was when the rest came. Five more, emerging from the darkness behind the trucks, guns raised, blades glinting in the dim light.
“Stay behind me,” Volken snarled, pushing Runa back toward the wall. His body shifted, every muscle tight, his eyes glowing faintly silver behind the lenses of his dark glasses.
Colt dove low, taking cover behind a stack of crates, returning fire with precision. The sound of bullets tore through the air.
Volken met the first Irish head-on. A knife slashed across his chest, but he didn’t even flinch, he caught the man’s wrist mid-swing and twisted until it snapped. The knife clattered to the ground. The next second, Volken buried it in the attacker’s neck.
Blood sprayed across the concrete.
“Volken!” Runa screamed as another man came from the side, swinging a pipe.
He spun, catching the blow on his forearm, then drove his elbow into the man’s face hard enough to send him crashing into the steel wall.
“Stay back!” Volken barked without looking at her. “Don’t move!”
Runa pressed against the wall, heart hammering, watching the chaos unfold. Colt had taken down two more, the echo of gunfire mixing with the wet sounds of violence as Volken tore through the last man standing.
The final Irishman tried to run. Volken caught him by the collar, dragging him backward before slamming him to the ground. His fangs flashed as he leaned over the man’s face.
“Who sent you?” he demanded.
The man’s eyes rolled in panic. “We…we just got word. Said to watch the warehouse. Said that a Dragic would come.”
“Who sent you?” Volken roared.
The man’s mouth opened to speak, but before he could, he convulsed, his body jerking violently as black smoke poured from his lips. The stench of sulphur filled the air.
Runa gasped. “What…what’s happening?”
Colt swore under his breath, kicking the corpse over as it went still. “Demon mark. Someone burned him from the inside out.”
Volken stood slowly, his breathing hard but steady, his eyes still burning faintly silver. He turned, scanning the shadows for any movement before meeting Colt’s gaze.
“Clean this up,” he said quietly, voice edged with barely contained fury. “Burn the bodies. We can’t leave traces.”
Colt nodded once. “On it.”
He crossed the distance to Runa in two strides. Her hands were trembling, her face pale, but her eyes, those wide, honey-coloured eyes met mine with something fierce.
“I told you,” he said softly, cupping her jaw. “This is what’s out there. This is what hunts in the dark.”
She swallowed hard. “And this is what you fight.”
His thumb brushed her cheek, his voice lowering to a growl. “This is what we all fight.”
She nodded slowly, her breath shuddering as the last of the gunfire echoes faded into silence.
“Your name should be Tragic instead of Dragic,” she blurted, the words slipping out before she could stop them. Her voice trembled only slightly, but the smirk she forced onto her lips covered the quake in her chest.
Volken’s head snapped toward Runa, those pale silver eyes glinting under the dim glow of the warehouse lights. For a second, she thought she’d pushed too far. But then the corner of his mouth twitched, just a fraction before a low, dark chuckle rumbled in his chest.
“Tragic?” he echoed, one brow lifting, amusement curling the edges of his mouth. “That’s what you’re going with?”
she shrugged. “It fits. You lot walk around all tall and broody, dressed like death, stabbing people before breakfast. It’s… kind of tragic.”
His chuckle deepened into a quiet, rasping laugh, the kind that came from a man not used to laughing at all. “You’re hiding your fear with jokes again.”
She blinked, caught off guard. “Maybe I just think you’re funny.”
“Liar,” he murmured, but there was warmth in the word, not scorn.
Colt was already coordinating cleanup with the other guards, his sharp tone echoing across the warehouse floor. Volken reached out, brushing a smear of blood from my jaw with his thumb. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m not,” she lied, because she was trembling hard enough to feel it in her knees.
His eyes softened in that barely-there way only he could manage. “Come on, little flame. Let’s get you out of here.”
He took her hand and started toward the Escalade parked near the gates. The ground was slick with oil and blood, the air thick with smoke and the copper tang of death. My mind was spinning, trying to keep up, to process, to breathe.
And, of course, that’s when she tripped.
Her boot caught on a stray cable, and she pitched forward with a startled squeak. Volken caught her mid-fall, his reflexes fast as lightning, one arm snapping around her waist to steady her.
He sighed, shaking his head slowly, that small smirk returning. “You really are a danger to yourself, aren’t you?”
She scowled, her cheeks burning. “It’s dark. And there’s…blood. Everywhere.”
His expression softened even more, though his tone stayed dry. “Good thing I’m used to carrying what’s mine.”
Before she could argue, he scooped her up as if she weighed nothing. Her arms instinctively flew around his neck.
“Volken!” she hissed. “I can walk.”
“I’ve seen how you walk,” he said, utterly unfazed. “You trip over oxygen.”
She gaped, torn between outrage and laughter. “You’re not funny.”
“You think so,” he murmured, voice dipping low as he strode toward the SUV, “but your heart disagrees.”
She opened her mouth to retort, but the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her side, the scent of him, steel and smoke and something primal, drowned out every word.
He set her down only when the Escalade door was open, guiding her inside before circling to the other side and sliding in next to her. Colt was still outside.
Volken reached over, his large hand sliding to the back of her neck, pulling her closer until his forehead rested against hers. His thumb stroked the edge of her jaw, the faint tremor in his touch betraying what his face tried to hide…fear.
“You could’ve been hurt,” he whispered, his voice rough with restraint.
“I wasn’t,” she murmured, her breath brushing his lips. “You made sure of that.”
His gaze locked on hers, molten and hungry, and before she could say another word, he caught her mouth with his.
The kiss wasn’t soft, it was desperate. Fierce. A storm breaking loose. His hand fisted in her hair as his mouth claimed hers, a deep growl vibrating through him like he was trying to anchor himself with the taste of her.
She melted into it, into him, every pulse of the bond singing through her body until she couldn’t tell where her fear ended and his need began.
When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged, his forehead pressed to hers. “Next time,” he said, voice low and dangerous, “you stay behind me. Always.”
Her lips curved despite the lingering tremor in her chest. “You say that like I listen.”
That earned her a quiet laugh, rough and almost disbelieving, as he shook his head. “You’ll be the death of me.”
His fingers brushed over her lips, still swollen from his kiss, and then he turned toward Colt, who was sliding into the driver’s seat.
“Drive,” Volken ordered.
As the SUV pulled away from the carnage, she leaned into him, exhaustion finally settling in. His arm came around her without hesitation, his hand warm against her back.
And for the first time that night, she stopped shaking, because even with blood still drying on his skin, Volken felt like safety.