Chapter 30
Chapter
Thirty
Ikill the first guard before he can raise his weapon.
My hands find his throat and twist. The crack of his spine is satisfying in a way I don't have time to examine. He drops, and I'm already moving, already reaching for the next one.
There are eight of them. Eight vampires between me and the door Celeste just walked through.
Eight obstacles.
The second guard swings a blade at my head. I duck under it, drive my fist through his chest, and rip out something vital. He screams. I don't care. The third and fourth come at me together, coordinated, trained. They last four seconds longer than the first two.
She's getting farther away with every second you waste.
The thought burns through me like silver in the blood. I grab the fifth guard by the skull and slam him into the sixth. Bones shatter. Bodies fall. The seventh tries to run, actually turns his back on me to flee toward the warehouse door.
Coward.
I catch him before he makes it three steps. My hand closes around the back of his neck, and I use his own momentum against him, driving his face into the concrete floor. The impact leaves a crater. He doesn't get up.
The eighth guard, the last one, is smarter than the others. He holds up his hands, backing away slowly, fear rolling off him in waves.
"Wait," he says. "I'm just hired muscle. I don't even know what…"
I don't let him finish.
His head hits the ground before his body realizes it's dead.
Eight guards. Maybe twenty seconds. An eternity when every second takes her farther from me.
I stand in the center of the carnage, breathing hard. Old habits. Human habits. The kind that surface when you're operating on pure instinct and rage.
Blood coats my hands. My shirt. My face. Some of it's mine, I took hits I didn't bother to dodge because dodging takes time, and time is something I don't have. The wounds are already healing, flesh knitting back together with the efficiency of six centuries of vampiric existence.
But the wound in my chest, the one that has nothing to do with physical damage, that one isn't healing at all.
She walked away from me.
I knew what she was doing the moment she opened her mouth.
Saw the calculation in her eyes, the cold assessment of a fighter weighing odds and finding only one path to victory.
She traded herself for everyone in that compound.
For Marcellus. For Elena. For all the vampires and humans who depend on me.
For me.
And I couldn't stop her. Couldn't reach her. Could only watch as Konstantin's hand closed around her arm and led her away.
The memory of her face in that moment, the love and the anguish and the iron resolve, will haunt me for the rest of eternity. However long or short that turns out to be.
I reach for my phone, fingers slick with blood. The screen smears red as I dial.
Marcellus answers on the first ring. "Sir?"
"The meeting was a diversion." I'm moving as I talk, following the scent of her through the warehouse. "While we were here, Konstantin sent his main force to the compound. They were minutes away from breaching the walls."
Silence. I can hear him processing the horror of what almost happened.
"Celeste traded herself to stop it," I continue. "She agreed to go with Konstantin in exchange for calling off the attack."
More silence. When Marcellus speaks again, his voice is different. Heavier.
"She saved us." It's not a question.
"Yes."
"And now she's…"
"With him. With Konstantin and Valentina." I'm moving as I talk, following the scent of her through the warehouse. "I'm going after her."
"What do you need?"
"Compound on full lockdown. Konstantin may not honor the deal; the attack pulled back, but that doesn't mean it's over. Get everyone inside, seal the perimeter, trust no one who approaches without verification."
"Already in progress. The moment you said the assault was retreating, I initiated protocol seven." His voice is clipped, professional, but I can hear the tension underneath. "The strike team is three minutes out from your location."
"Tell them to stand down."
"Sir…"
"I'm not waiting three minutes, Marcellus.
I'm not waiting three seconds." I find the back exit, the one Konstantin led her through.
The door hangs open, night air rushing in.
Her scent lingers here, blood and fear and underneath it, that indefinable something that's purely her. "I'm going after her now."
"Alone? Against Konstantin and, however many guards he has waiting?"
"Yes."
"That's suicide."
"Maybe." I step through the door into the alley beyond.
The night is cool, the sky a muddy orange from the city's light pollution.
Somewhere out there, Celeste is with a monster.
"But she walked away from me to save everyone in that compound.
I will not let that sacrifice mean nothing. I will not leave her with him."
"Maximus." There's something in his voice I rarely hear. Concern. Not for the mission or the compound, but for me. "She did what she did because she loves you. She'd want you to protect the compound. To protect yourself."
"I know what she'd want." My voice comes out colder than I intend. "And I know what I need. Those aren't the same thing."
"They could be. Wait for backup. Three minutes…"
"Every minute I wait is a minute he has to hurt her.
To break her. To do whatever he's been planning since Rome.
" I start down the alley, following her scent.
"I've spent years being patient, Marcellus.
Being careful. Weighing every decision against potential consequences.
And right now, the only consequence I care about is what happens to her if I don't move fast enough. "
Another silence. Longer this time.
"I'll protect the compound," Marcellus says finally. "Go get her back."
"If I don't return…"
"You'll return. And so will she." A pause. "You don't get to die before I've had a chance to properly apologize for doubting her."
Something almost like a smile tugs at my mouth. Almost. "Hold me to that."
"I intend to." His voice softens, just slightly.
"Many years I've followed you, sir. You've never once asked me to trust you blindly.
You've always explained your reasoning and allowed me to question your decisions.
So trust me now when I say: go. Find her.
Bring her home. And let me handle everything else. "
"Marcellus."
"That's an order. From your second-in-command to his lord." I can almost hear his dry smile. "I believe the protocols allow for that in cases of emotional compromise."
Emotional compromise. Is that what this is? This clawing desperation in my chest, this single-minded focus that's drowning out every other consideration?
Yes. Probably. Definitely.
I don't care.
"Keep them safe," I say.
"Always."
I end the call and focus on the hunt.
The alley behind the warehouse is narrow, littered with debris and the detritus of urban decay.
Celeste's scent hangs in the air, faint but unmistakable.
She's bleeding. Not much, but enough for me to track.
Enough to leave a trail through the maze of backstreets and abandoned lots that make up this corner of Konstantin's territory.
She didn't go quietly.
The evidence is everywhere. Scuff marks on the concrete where someone struggled. A smear of blood on a brick wall, hers or Valentina's, I can't tell. A broken heel from a shoe, probably one of Konstantin's guards. A dent in a metal dumpster that looks like someone was thrown into it.
That's my girl.
The thought surfaces unbidden, and I don't push it away. She is. She's mine, and I'm going to get her back, and then I'm never letting her out of my sight again.
I move fast. The city blurs around me as I follow the trail. Left down the alley. Right onto a side street. Past abandoned buildings and shuttered storefronts, through the forgotten corners of a city that doesn't know monsters walk among them.
My mind races as I run. Where would Konstantin take her? Not far, he'd want to move quickly, get her somewhere secure before I could pursue.
Somewhere close. Somewhere defensible. Somewhere he could regroup and plan his next move.
I think about the territory. About the maps I've studied over decades of cold war with Konstantin. About the places he controls, the properties he owns, the locations he might use for something like this.
There's a parking structure three blocks from the warehouse. Industrial. Abandoned. Konstantin bought it through a shell company fifteen years ago, ostensibly for development that never materialized. I always assumed it was a safe house. A bolt hole. Somewhere to retreat if things went wrong.
The trail confirms it. The scent grows stronger as I approach, layered with others now, Valentina's sickly-sweet perfume, Konstantin's distinctive musk, the copper tang of fresh blood.
Fresh blood. More of it now.
Someone is hurt.
I slow as I approach, forcing myself to think strategically despite every instinct screaming at me to charge in blind. Konstantin has been alive for over a thousand years. He didn't survive this long by being careless. Whatever's waiting inside, it's not an accident. It's not a coincidence.
It's a trap.
But traps only work if you don't see them coming. And right now, I don't care about traps. I don't care about strategy or consequences or any of the things that have kept me alive for six centuries.
I care about her.
And then I hear it.
The clash of bodies. The grunt of impact. The unmistakable sound of combat.
She's fighting.
I abandon caution and run.
The parking structure is three levels of crumbling concrete and rusted support beams. Graffiti covers the lower walls, and broken glass crunches under my feet as I enter.
The sounds are coming from the second level, echoing off the walls, bouncing through the empty space.
I take the ramp at full speed, my footsteps silent despite my haste.