Kobra

CHAPTER 1

DAVINA

I FELL FACE-FIRST INTO THE TRAP.

In all honesty, I might have deserved it. That’s what I get for believing I was oh-so-much-smarter and more skilled than him.

In the end, all I did was play straight into his hands.

My thighs are trembling uncontrollably from the sprint that got me here, and now from crouching for far longer than my wounded thigh can sustain.

Still, I don’t move an inch, too afraid to alert my pursuers with even the faintest sound.

Loud voices and footsteps echo from the mouth of the corridor, carved in slate and umber-streaked stone.

They’re close. Too close.

I hold my breath, then let it out slowly. Even that soft exhale stirs the dust and sand in the air, making it swirl and dance in the spear of light filtering through an overhead crack.

I need to get out of here.

I don’t let myself breathe again until they’ve thundered past my hiding place without breaking stride. And then I remain still for two more minutes, counting each heartbeat, straining for any sound that might mean one of them doubled back.

Only when the corridor is silent again do I straighten. My thigh pulses, torn flesh screaming from the wooden bullet I took not a minute after realizing just how stupid I’d been. Heat radiates from the wound in waves that leave me almost as numb as my abilities.

I hate wood with my whole heart.

Tentatively, I peek around the edge of the boulder that just saved my life.

It’s massive, roughly the same size as the hole high above, where the first strokes of pink dawn paint the sky.

Probably the result of some landslide that is as likely to have happened hours ago as thousands of years in the past.

On light, silent feet, I step around it and into the tunnel beyond. Light spills from scattered gaps above, piercing the dark in quartz columns stretching across the catacomb floor.

My neck prickles as I take in the walls of stone pressing in on all sides. Cursed sap, I hate being underground. No—I loathe it. Coming from a place of open skies and trees taller than the clouds, this place is as close to Hell as it gets.

Shaking off the rising panic—ah, damn it!

My eyes water and I have to clench my jaw to keep from hissing.

Forgot about the wound.

The pain grounds me, though. I need to get a grip or I’m as good as dead, for too many reasons to count.

On silent feet, I move toward the mouth of the passage.

Carefully, I look over the edge to confirm there are no others in sight before stepping out into the larger tunnel.

I don’t dally before I bolt in the opposite direction, the worn leather of my boots barely whispering against the hard ground.

I reach the next intersection in a blink, then pause to consider my next steps.

I can’t go back to the chamber. He’s there, with enough backup to overpower me even if I had my abilities—which I don’t. But everything else is in there too. Everything I’ve worked so hard for . . . If I leave, it’s gone.

Worse than gone, he’ll give it to his superiors, and that’s something the world cannot afford.

But what choice do I have? There’s just one of me, and at least a dozen of them. I need to accept it. I’ve lost.

I curse them all, thinking of that short, blissful moment when I believed I’d pulled it off. That I had the upper hand. That I could choose the better outcome.

Stupid, stupid Davina.

Now there’s just one option left.

Escape.

I take the next right, trying to put as much ground between us as possible.

I have no idea where I’m going, only that I need to keep moving.

I’m not na?ve enough to think he hasn’t blocked the main exit, but this place is old.

I’ve seen signs of others using it to hide through the ages.

Which means, there have to be hidden exits somewhere in these ancient stone halls.

If only I could find one . . .

My entire leg is screaming with every step, but I grind my teeth and push through. I run tunnel after tunnel, silent as a wraith, quick as a serpent in pursuit of prey.

The irony is not lost on me.

My hand clenches around the grip of my spare gun, the pain sharp but welcome. It diverts focus from the throbbing agony in my thigh. I take another turn, and then I see it.

Relief flares in my gut at the large opening ahead, the orange-and-pink sky pouring through it like hope. It is high up, but not so high I can’t reach it if I climb the rocky wall.

Just a few more yards.

“There she is!”

The shout chills my blood.

No.

“Come on, come on!”

Bracing against the pain, I push harder, eyes locked on the sky ahead. I can practically taste it, that cool dawn air, sharp and crisp with—

A figure materializes out of thin air, blocking the way like a brutal force of nature. A specter taking shape, if such things were real. Tall frame, broad shoulders, square jaw, and those cursed green eyes.

He raises an eyebrow. “Going somewhere?” His accent doesn’t blunt the edge in his voice in the slightest.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I was so damn close.

Veering hard to the side, I dive into a perpendicular tunnel only to skid to a halt as two more figures emerge ahead. Pebbles scatter under my feet, their jitter mocking.

Damn it!

I spin around, searching for something I can use. Anything. But there’s only stone and doom and him. And that infuriating smirk tipping his beard.

My jaw grinds. He hasn’t won just yet.

I back up, my left foot skidding over a hole in the ground as I retrace my steps. My palm slams against the wall beside me for balance. Years of training kick in as my arm stays steady, gun aimed dead at the heart of the man who’s cost me everything.

Including this cursed ache in the beating organ inside my own chest.

A dark chuckle shatters the eerie silence. “Seriously, Lachlan? Still don’t know when to give up?”

I bare my teeth. “You know damn well I don’t, you treacherous bastard.”

He laughs, the sound loud and dark, and hollow of any joy. “That’s rich, coming from you.” His smirk makes me see red. “Pot, meet kettle, and all that.”

I don’t dignify that with a reply. The worst part is that he’s right. He just happened to be better at betrayal than I was. The price of a lifetime playing by the rules.

For a heartbeat, no one moves. The moment stretches long enough for the ever-swirling dust to settle in the stillness.

Then the man who’s become my downfall speaks again.

“How do you expect this to go?” The words come out calm and smooth, like we’re debating dinner plans rather than knowledge capable of upending the world as we know it.

“You know I can’t let you go.” He slips a hand into his pocket. “Are you going to shoot me for it?”

“You didn’t hesitate to shoot me, if I recall.”

His eyes flick down to my leg where the wooden bullet struck. The brown fabric of my pants is darker where blood oozes through.

“You left me no choice. If it’s any consolation, I didn’t enjoy it.”

“It’s not.”

I glare at him with everything I have left, which is, I realize, not much at all. My fingers burn with the desperate hope that the sap inked into my skin will come alive again. That my power might break through the wood embedded in my body.

Knowing that it won’t.

“Lower the gun.” His voice softens, but that stare cuts, slicing me open in places that haven’t seen the light for a long time. “Please.”

That fucking word. The one I know is so hard for him to say aloud. So powerful and valuable and vilified . . . And he throws it at me like a fucking weapon.

But it won’t work. Rage sweeps over me, blooming in the form of wetness in the corners of my eyes. My teeth clench and my arm steadies, tense with renewed resolve.

I will not go down without a fight.

Disappointment flickers in his eyes, and then his chin dips just a fraction, the movement subtle enough that it could have passed for casual if I hadn’t spent almost every waking moment of the last month with him.

But I did, and I know better. Yet the knowledge offers me no advantage, just one last time.

The weapon flies from my grasp, soaring straight into his waiting palm. It hasn’t even made contact with his skin when two sets of hands slam into me. Gripping my shoulders, they yank my arms back as I thrash.

Pain explodes through my joint when they wrench harder and I hiss, my breath ragged.

“Careful,” he snaps. Then, “Sedate her.” His voice takes that powerful note that leaves no room for argument.

Zephyr Kentar, Captain of the King of Kobra’s Army, stands tall and strong while his men subdue me, unapologetically victorious in the face of my demise.

Because this is what it is. Sweat slicks my palms as the realization settles. There is no escaping, no way out of this.

For the first time in my life, I failed. I lost.

And there is absolutely nothing I can do when I feel the prick of a needle bite into my arm.

Nothing at all as darkness crashes over me and pulls me under.