Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
Fox flipped off the TV and dropped back against the couch cushions with a loud sigh in the oppressive silence of the loft.
He wished he could have gone to the meeting with Winter and Aiden.
Going, of course, would have been stupid and dangerous, but it would also mean he wasn’t wondering what the hell was happening with Damon.
Stupid fucking vampire.
Damon, that was.
Not his sweet, funny, and grumpy vampire.
Just thinking of Winter put a sappy grin on his face. He was a hopeless mess when it came to his vampire, but he didn’t care.
Winter wanted Fox to stay. Winter loved him.
And Fox loved him so completely. He’d never expected this to happen. And definitely not in the middle of a kidnapping. Well, sort of kidnapping. Damon technically kidnapped him. Winter liberated him and then kept him for safety reasons.
Fox snorted at his own thinking. Therapists around the world would be scoffing their heads off at that line of reasoning.
Despite a rough start, Fox had never felt threatened or in danger when he was with Winter. He was sure that if he truly pressed the matter, Winter would have found a way to let him go.
But Fox had wanted to stay to get to the bottom of this prophecy nonsense.
And if he were being honest with himself, he’d wanted to stay near Winter. The vampire was too intriguing and too much fun, even when he was being all stiff and reserved.
Fox groaned at his own thoughts and pushed off the couch, but he stood there, in the middle of the living room.
He should be practicing his magic like Zelda taught him to instead of thinking about Winter.
He swore and dropped down again. There was no way he’d be able to concentrate on magic like he was supposed to.
Worry was crawling through him over this meeting.
What if something went wrong? What if Damon double-crossed him?
Well, of course Damon was going to double-cross him and Aiden, but what if they couldn’t escape from the trap?
Shoving his hand into his hair, Fox tightened his fingers on the strands and pulled. He couldn’t sit around, doing nothing all night. Winter was going to be fine.
He released his hair and stood yet again, but this time he walked over to the breakfast bar where he’d left his new cell phone. Winter had just gotten it for him to use in emergencies. He’d left it across the room to charge to keep himself from checking it every two seconds for a text from Winter.
But he’d look just this once. Maybe Winter had texted to simply say that they were at The Gallery. That way he could start a countdown clock in his mind. Winter had said he didn’t think the meeting would last more than thirty minutes at most, and then he’d return to the loft.
Unlocking the phone, Fox frowned when he noticed there were no messages waiting for him.
He was about to put the phone down again when he noticed he had zero bars.
That didn’t make any sense. He’d already used the phone a few times to text with River and Ethan—both men had urged him to follow Rafe’s Instagram account so they could all make fun of Winter’s brother.
It had been working earlier in the night.
He unplugged the phone from the charging cable and walked to another spot in the loft with the phone held up, trying to see if he could pick up a signal. But no bars appeared. That was strange.
Sighing, Fox lowered the phone. It was annoying but not a big deal. The phone was still connected to Winter’s Wi-Fi signal. He could send him an internet-based message, telling him he didn’t have a cell signal.
As he opened the app, there was a loud pop a heartbeat before all the lights went out. Darkness blanketed the loft. The low hum of white noise created by the refrigerator and air conditioning went silent.
A power outage too?
No.
Fox’s heart skipped a beat. There was no way he had no cell signal and the power went out at the same time. This was bad. Very fucking bad.
Tucking the phone into the back pocket of his jeans, Fox turned toward Winter’s office. The vampire had shown him his massive cabinets of weapons. He needed something to protect himself; his magic wasn’t strong enough yet.
The windows to his left exploded inward, throwing shards of glass across the room and knocking Fox to the floor.
Shit! They were already moving against him.
Fucking Damon! He’d been worried about Damon attacking Winter and Aiden at the meeting.
Both he and Winter had been sure Damon didn’t know where the loft was located.
Two metallic objects flew through the window and bounced on the floor a couple of times before rolling. A low hiss filled the room and Fox’s eyes started to burn. Tear gas? These fuckers were launching tear gas at him.
Coughing and blinking furiously against a rush of tears, he pulled his T-shirt up over his mouth and nose as he crawled toward Winter’s office.
Glass cut into the palms of his hands and bit into his knees through his jeans.
His heart hammered in his chest, trying to break free.
Fox didn’t blame it. He wanted the hell out of there too.
He made it to the office before the pounding on the door started. Someone got their hands on a battering ram. The air was a little clearer in the office. Fox furiously wiped at his eyes with the backs of his hands, trying to clear his vision enough that he could see the weapons lockers.
Kneeling at the first one, he willed his hands to stop shaking but wasn’t having much luck. He had to get a weapon and find a way out of Winter’s place. If he could get out, then he could get to Rafe’s penthouse. It was the closest safe place he knew of. Winter would look for him at Rafe’s.
He grabbed the thick lock with both hands and closed his eyes. It had a biosensor. Because of course it did. Winter had the most advanced security tech, which unfortunately didn’t do much good against someone decked out like a fucking SWAT team.
But the sensor didn’t matter.
The lock was mechanical. He could do this.
He was Fox. Good with locks.
Blocking out the noise of the invaders and the bite of the tear gas, Fox focused on the pool in his mind. That cool blue pool that looked just like Winter’s eyes. He stepped into it and imagined the little mechanical bits of the lock moving. All the teeth and gears realigning until—Click!
The lock gave in Fox’s hand. He swallowed a relieved sob as he ripped the lock off the cabinet and pushed to his feet.
After pulling both doors open, he grabbed his cell phone and turned on the flashlight so he could see what he had at his disposal.
There were a lot of guns. A scary shit-ton of guns and Fox didn’t have a clue how to use them.
Oh, he got the basic point-and-squeeze-the-trigger function, but which ammo? How did he load it? Where was the safety? Did it even have a safety?
Fuck. Now was not a good time to figure that out.
Luckily, Winter also possessed a scary number of knives. A knife he understood. Just stab with the pointy end or slice with the sharp edge.
And there was a black bat. Slightly bigger than a baton, but smaller than a baseball bat. That was even easier to manage.
His stomach churned at the idea of using any of these weapons on a living creature, but he’d do it if it meant staying alive and getting to Winter.
He grabbed several knives, tucking them into pockets and attaching those in holders to the waistband of his jeans.
Next, he grabbed the bat and checked that his shirt was still secure over his face.
The front door slammed inward, banging against the wall.
Lovely. His attackers had finally arrived to make this a real party.
Fox sidled over to the open doorway and peered into the living room.
The people were little more than black shadows moving through the loft, only the soft crunch of glass under their feet.
He watched as two were directed up the stairs to the second floor while three more fanned out across the main floor, searching for him.
Upstairs would have been a good hiding spot, but he would have been trapped. He didn’t know of a way to escape the building through that floor that didn’t leave him splatting on the sidewalk three stories below.
If they were all in the loft now, three people wasn’t an impossible number to get through and out the front door. From there, he could just run out through the garage and disappear on the street.
Tightening his fists on the bat, he raised it, preparing to swing. His throat and eyes burned so damn bad. He needed to cough, to clear his lungs. Tears were filling his eyes so he could barely see. Holding his breath, he waited as what he assumed was a vampire inched closer to the office.
Fox swung the bat as hard as he could the moment the man was in position.
It slammed into his chest, knocking him backward into a heap on the floor.
The impact reverberated up that bat and along his arms. Fox hissed at the pain but kept moving.
The fallen man was wearing a gas mask and what looked to be night-vision goggles.
Damon had his people decked out for this little assault.
Changing his hold on the bat, Fox slammed the end on the hand still holding the gun. His cry was muffled under the mask, but Fox was sure he felt something crunch. Good.
One down.
He moved fast, charging the attacker who was already turning toward him.
Before he could point the gun at Fox’s chest, the witch dropped to his knees.
He slid across the hardwood floor, wincing as glass cut through his jeans.
Releasing the bat with one hand, he grabbed a knife and brought it down in an arc, jamming it home in the man’s foot.
His screams poured out from behind the mask and he stumbled. The gun in his hand fired twice, but the bullets streaked harmlessly up toward the ceiling. As Fox climbed to his feet, he slammed the end of the bat into the fucker’s balls. That’d keep him out of the fight for a second.
Fox’s confidence hit a wall when he turned to find the remaining man between him and the door already pointing his gun at Fox’s chest. He was too close.
There wasn’t enough time to maneuver. Fox pivoted on the balls of his right foot and turned toward the stairs.
Two people were already coming down. He needed to move. Needed to escape.
Sharp pain dug deep into his left shoulder blade. He cried out, sucking in toxic air. He coughed and stumbled a few steps before he got his balance again. Back to the office. If he could get to the office, he could…could barricade himself…inside.
What the fuck?
Fox tried to blink and take a step. The world swayed and blurred. Was he losing that much blood from the bullet already? Or was it from the tear gas?
He couldn’t be passing out. Had to escape.
He took another step and his knees gave out. Crashing to the floor, Fox cried out as pain slammed through his legs. Why couldn’t he get his body to work? Why…
Oh fuck…
They didn’t shoot him with a bullet. It was a tranquilizer dart. They drugged him. Were knocking him out.
Fox clenched his teeth to hold in a frustrated scream. They were taking him to Damon. This felt worse than being killed. Damon would have him. Winter…Damon was going to use him to hurt Winter and the rest of the Variks.
Hands grabbed his arms, hauling him upright. Fox tried to struggle, tried to pull out of their grasp but it was already too late. They had him. Consciousness was already slipping away, and he was falling deeper into the endless darkness.
Fuck Damon and all his minions.
Winter was going to kill them all.