Chapter 46
AXE
Sixteen hours of speeding down the coast, and not once did my thoughts stray from her.
As twilight recedes, we abandon the vans a quarter mile out, near the forest edge. With every step, my pulse grows more erratic. But I bring the anger to heel, hammering it down to a state of lethal precision.
On a cool breeze, the scent of my mate at last finds its way to me. My wolf pants eagerly. She’s here she’s here she’s here!
Our ears perk up at sound of a fire alarm. I raise my fist, halting the three assimilated teams. Fuck. There goes the element of surprise.
Making a chopping motion with my right arm, I signal to the others to up the pace. Once again, my wolf stirs, sensing death and decay—a sure indicator that vampires are on the premises. With only an hour at most before sunrise, at this point, they’ll be forced to remain onsite.
We’re forced to halt a second time when we hear a zooming object whoosh above the yard. A drone. One of Qinnu’s warriors cocks his weapon, lining up the shot. I’m there in a flash, swatting down the barrel.
“Disengage,” I bark at him. “The sound will blow our cover.”
“Watch this.” Demi smirks, reaching for her crossbow. When the drone sweeps back around for its second lap, she fires into the line of orbit, obliterating the device.
On my cue, the teams spring into action. Chris and Jabir take off first. Then Demi and Dominik, who will infiltrate the second floor. Qinnu’s men shift into wolf form, breaking off to hold the outer barrier while my squad storms through the main level entrance with a line of foot soldiers.
I hold my position as my men hurl bricks through the glass. Then we charge. Only one guard holds the main line, who fires straight at me. Taking the hit in the chest, I tumble and roll onto my side as my partner tackles him and ends him with a single slice of his blade.
To my surprise, three cloaked men burst through the ceiling panels and descend. I pull myself up, using the heel of my gun to lay into them. But not quickly enough to deflect their pointed silver throwing stars. Two of them sink into my comrades’ arms, momentarily disarming them.
I tilt my rifle to the ceiling, where another yellow-eyed vampire hangs overhead, bringing him down with a thud.
Claws rake down my cheek as his partner wrestles me to the ground, latching onto my weapon.
With a snarl, I smack my helmet into his nose and ram him into the desk, pinning him there as I empty a mag of silver into his stomach.
The sharpshooter pulls the serrated star from his arm and throws it in the direction of the retreater.
Whizzing past, it finds the target, sticking him in the back of the neck.
But the bloodsucker doesn’t let up. Together, we pursue him through the hall.
As he flees, more reinforcements burst out of the entryway.
The pull of my trigger eliminates them before they have a chance to draw their own guns.
Just as another vampire turns the corner, a Silverback wolf bursts through the window, latching onto the creature.
His jaws sink deep into his neck, shaking him back and forth like a ragdoll.
The vampire thrusts his throwing star into the beast’s nose, emitting a nasty snarl.
But the wolf doesn’t spit him out. He holds him steady, long enough for me to jam a silver dagger into his chest.
“Where is your master?” I roar.
Vessa
Locating a window nearby, I bolt into the next examination room, swearing under my breath because it’s mostly empty. I’m faced with two inconvenient options. Dart back into the hallway or wiggle this window open. Below, I can see the balcony attached to the dining hall.
A series of bangs ring out.
I’ll have to risk the drop. Adrenaline taking over, I raise my heels and open the latch, stepping lightly as I swing myself over the barrier.
When my feet touch down on the wrought-iron surface, I peer into the cafeteria, keeping my eyes open for the possibility of a more tactical weapon. But I only spot the bodies of several girls, laid face down. My heart sinks when I find the familiar shoulder birthmark belonging to Fawn.
Oh, Gods. Not her, too.
Nimbly, I tiptoe over to check and see if she’s still breathing. My hand brushes her cold cheek. She’s gone. Before I can stifle a sob, I jump back at the commencement of rapid gunfire on the floor below. Those are big guns. Assault rifles.
I can’t let myself linger here. Picking up the pace, I dart into the kitchen. Only to have my feet swept out from underneath me.
One of the heavyset guards slips his knee between my thighs, pinning me down. Tearing the handkerchief away, he stuffs it into my mouth, unbothered by my pounding fists. I kick and writhe with all my strength, but he doesn’t budge. He’s practically the size of Axe.
Axe! Where are you?
Remembering the scissors, I desperately feel around me and find them underneath my feet. In one motion, I bend towards my heels and snatch them, driving the blades below his last set of ribs. He roars in pain.
But he doesn’t get the chance to retaliate, not as a stream of bullets rip through his face. In the doorway, Demi Skornokovy holds a hefty rifle.
A ragged whimper escapes me. Finally. A moment of relief.
“I thought you’d be happy to see me.” She winks, helping me to my feet. If I had the capacity to laugh, I would. Instead, I throw my arms around her.
“Later,” she whispers, peeling my arms away. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Outside, her mate covers the exit. Beside him, a lycan in wolf form watches over the hallway, blood already coating its pale brown maw. “Take the stairs to the ground level,” Chris tells us. “We’ll cover from higher ground. Dom will catch up.”
Demi takes a moment to load her next round.
I stick close to her as we descend the stairs.
Chris takes out one guard as he swings open the door to the stairwell.
Demi eliminates another just three paces behind his partner, ducking just in time for his bullet to whizz overhead.
An alert comes through Chris’s earpiece, prompting him to fall back.
With the area clear to cross, I scoop up a fallen pistol, holding my breath as we scurry past Kiersten’s lab and its observation rooms.
Her nose wrinkles. “What is that horrific smell?”
“You don’t want to know,” I mutter.
When we near the corner at the end of the hall, a fresh batch of shooters engage us from behind. Demi whirls to shoot down the assailants. At the same time, I fire a shot in their direction, nailing the shorter one in the upper arm. But that’s the only shot I have. My cartridge is jammed.
I discard the gun and curse myself. When I turn around, my stomach plummets. An armed man swings around the corner and strikes. In a blur, Demi pushes me aside with the butt of her rifle. Her finger finds the trigger, hitting the man in the shoulder.
But not before his bullets shred through her abdomen.
Time comes to a stunning halt.
The gun slips from Demi’s arms. Gasping, I reach for her, just before her helmet smacks against the cold ground.
My heart pounds so hard it hammers in my eardrums as I tug off the lab coat, bunching it up and pressing it just below her cropped bulletproof vest. Too quickly does it saturate with blood.
Shit.
I glance up to make sure the shooter hasn’t moved. He hasn’t. Axe’s sister groans, placing her hands over my bloody ones.
“Tell me what to do, Demi. Is this enough pressure?”
She nods and I watch her eyes roll back into her head.
“Oh no, you don’t.”
Behind me, the lab door is propped open. Perhaps if I can pull her into the room I can find something else to cauterize the wounds. But I can’t—
“How bad?” she wheezes.
Tears leak from my eyes as I lift the soaked coat. Though a cropped bulletproof vest guards her heart, there is minimal coverage over her stomach. Three shots tore clean through her middle. One through her pelvis, the second and third just a few inches above it.
I choke on a hearty sob. “You didn’t have to come, Demi. You have a family.”
Demi winces in protest. “You are my family.”
The wrathful snarl of a wolf sounds from the floor above us. “We’ll get you out of here, okay? Everything will be alright.”
Stay calm, Ves, stay calm.
"I can't—I can't feel my . . ." Her face blanches at the holes in her abdomen. "My baby!” Demi cries. Coughing up a spurt of crimson, her eyes flutter.
I curse, tilting her head up, whipping mine left and right. Is it too grave a risk to call out for help? I’m losing her with each second that passes . . .
When Demi’s eyes open again, she reaches out to cup my cheek, staring into my eyes with wonder. “Hester," she marvels. I think she almost laughs. "It’s you. It’s always been you."
I shake my head, confused as her eyes well up with shiny tears. “No, it’s Vessa. I’m right here. Just hold on.” I look down at her swollen belly, fighting the urge to gag.
“I see her, Mother. I see her,” Demi says with trembling lips.
Her fingers are cold. Too cold. Terror stabs my heart at all sides, a fissure frantically spreading, burrowing into my bones. The damage to Demi’s body is catastrophic. She is out of time.
“Your girls need you, Demi. Chris needs you,” I sob.
All at once, Demi begins to convulse, coughing up larger heaps of blood. I wipe it from her mouth, and she smiles, whispering the softest “Thank you.” She lets her hand settle over her unborn child.
“Demi, please,” I beg with everything I have.
“Squeeze my girls tight for me.”
Heaving a final breath, Demi stills contentedly. Panic consumes me. No no no . . .
Unhooking the helmet, I cradle her head to my chest, sobbing violently. I move my hand around her stomach, feeling for a kick, for any sign of life.
It’s pointless. Both of them are lost.
When the realization hits, something inside of me—something monstrous—snaps.
As I clench my blood-slicked fists, simmering rage funnels and explodes in my chest like red-hot shrapnel, bursting through all the fear, all the exhaustion, all the bereavement that the levee of my soul has been struggling to contain for years.
Blinded by white tears, I scream. And scream. Until my voice fractures.
When I reach for the assault rifle that lays at Demi's feet, my tears fall no more. I’ve been cleaved of all feeling.
My eyes flick to the shooter, who tries to find his footing and stumbles, crying out as he lands on his shoulder at a grisly angle. Terror sends him scuttling backwards as my barrel finds the sweet spot, right between his eyes.
I pull the trigger.