Chapter 15
Jon
With a slow hiss, the multi-point lock opened.
Lee stepped back and hastily dropped the guard’s severed hand—which he’d been holding by a now-soiled pocket square—into a vase of lilies.
Grimacing, he smudged the dripped blood on the marble floor with the heel of his shoe, doing little but smearing it across the tile.
Meanwhile, I pried open the bulky door. Thankfully, no alarm was triggered.
“See? Easy,” Lee said.
Admittedly, he’d made impressive work of security features I hadn’t even been able to name.
I double-checked the magazines of the pistols I’d lifted from the guards. A shotgun would feel more at home in my hands, but for now, these would have to be enough.
“Any chance you’ll change your mind?” I asked, waving a weapon at him.
Lee patted the taser in his coat pocket. “Generous, as always. I’ll manage.”
We hadn’t taken more than two steps when the sound of someone rushing down the hall made us twist back around. I lifted my pistol, both hands braced on the cold metal. Shit, was there a silent alarm not mentioned on the blueprints?
But it wasn’t more guards filing in.
Cliff appeared in the doorway, his breathing labored and his hair slightly askew from its formal style. He’d gotten his hands on a semi-automatic rifle himself, I noted. As our eyes locked, we lowered our weapons at the same time.
“Thank fuck I caught you guys,” he said as I scanned the air behind him.
“Where is she?” I didn’t have to say who.
“Sylvia’s alive,” Cliff said. “The others too, but… Fuck. I need your help—now.”
At once, Lee whipped out the pendant, brushing a thumb over the gilded diamond. The stone was still yellow, which was a slight balm to my nerves, but that only meant Delilah’s heart was still beating. That didn’t guarantee the fairies’ safety.
“What happened?” Lee snapped as he let the pendant drop back under his shirt.
“An ambush in the security hall. We underestimated how thorough these people are. We were outnumbered. I couldn’t…
They got their hands on the others, using them for leverage.
I don’t know how long they’ll last with these guys.
I barely made it out.” Cliff raked a hand through his hair, his voice thick with emotion.
A self-loathing grimace flickered over his face like he knew he’d failed them.
“Forget the plan. These people are fucking psychos, and I need you guys.”
“Shit! Where are they holding them?” I started forward before my mind had fully caught up. Sylvia was in danger. I would burn this entire place down if it meant ensuring she was alive and well.
“In a secure wing,” Cliff said, reloading his rifle. He nodded for us to follow, headed back toward the corridor. “I think I saw another way in through the fire exit. We can maneuver around their main defense.”
I glanced back over my shoulder at the loading bay passage.
Fuck. If Delilah and the others weren’t able to trigger the lights, we would be going up against a fully-armed squadron with literally zero advantage; from dangerous to goddamn suicide in the blink of an eye.
Sweat beaded the back of my neck as I ran through our options, which were bleak.
There was no time for both. I couldn’t just carry on with my end of the mission when Sylvia could be having her wings torn off one by one.
“Lee, stay here. Get a visual on the loading bay, see if there’s a way to disable the doors,” I said. “That’ll buy us some time, at least.”
I jolted as Lee seized my arm and pulled me back. I shot him a bewildered look, wrenching myself free, but he doubled down, locking his hand on me.
“Jon, get back. That’s not Cliff.”
“You drunk or something?” Cliff gave him a derisive once-over that could strip paint. “Of course it’s me, asshole.”
Lee lifted his chin. He studied Cliff up and down with a cold thread of certainty that set my nerves on edge.
“Synthetic fabric, stiff construction, shoddy tailoring,” Lee clicked his tongue. “A cheap, off-the-rack suit if I ever saw one. An eyesore, actually.”
“You’ve got to be fucking with me,” Cliff said, livid. “We don’t have time for whatever diva shit you’re pulling.” He scoffed and threw me a look—can you believe this guy?
“It’s not Armani,” Lee hammered in. “I’d never let even my worst enemy walk into public in that thing.”
I frowned at my own tuxedo—or what was left of it.
The designer jacket had been discarded in the lounge, but the pants were made of the same luxurious cashmere.
Even the crisp white shirt was cinched to fit perfectly, and Lee had made sure we appreciated these details as he pressed the suits into our hands earlier.
I shared the dread pooling on Lee’s face. Slowly, I lifted my pistol at Cliff.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Cliff snapped. “Sylvia is literally in enemy hands, and you’re wasting time listening to this idiot?”
Tension snaked through the room, charging the silence as I dug with my other hand to produce one of the spare bullets—pure silver. I held it out to Cliff in an open palm.
“Just a precaution.” I narrowed my eyes slightly, as though maybe I could discern something that would prove this wasn’t my best friend. But his impatient moss-green eyes, the slightly tousled edge to his short hair, the clench in his jaw—it was all utterly Cliff.
“You think I’m a shifter?”
“Just touch the silver.” My voice was low and level. Bracing.
He sighed. “Sure. Fine. I’ll give you a goddamn handjob on the way if you want, but let’s move.”
“Now, Cliff.”
“We don’t have time for this,” Cliff barked. “For all we know, Lee’s trying to pit us against each other for a bigger score. What, if he says he sees a goddamn guardian angel, you gonna start looking for that, too?”
With a metallic snick, I removed the safety from my pistol.
“Fucking touch it!” I shouted.
Cliff balked in the doorway, nostrils flaring as he glared between us, shifting foot to foot. His hand tightened on his rifle, and I swore I caught him glance toward the loading bay like he might charge right past us if he could be quick enough.
His refusal was deafening.
And then, Cliff’s expression twisted into a cruel, derisive sneer as he looked past me at Lee. “What kind of a freak knows fabrics like that?”
His gravelly voice was still the same, but it held a smooth venom I didn’t recognize, the cadence off.
A chill went down my spine. Lee was right. Where was the real Cliff? And Sylvia?
I squeezed the trigger, but the shifter was already moving, charging into me like a bull before I could aim a second shot.
He slammed me into the wall with inhuman strength, the pistol flying from my hand as a gilded frame painfully cut between my shoulder blades.
I crumpled onto my side, the air fully knocked out of me.
Cliff’s face, but definitely not his strength. Fucking shapeshifters. I was lucky not to have a fractured spine.
As I struggled to regain my senses, the shifter rounded on Lee.
Through ringing ears, I caught clipped shouts, a struggle, Lee’s strangled protest. A fierce, sickening blow.
Cliff’s doppelganger knelt over Lee, zip-tying his hands behind his back on the floor.
Before he withdrew, he took special care to remove the iron cuff on Lee's wrist, tucking it into his pocket.
“Eros will be glad to have this back,” the shapeshifter said, every syllable dripping with Cliff’s reckless charisma.
He patted Lee’s cheek coarsely. “See, an animal would just snap your neck, Rhodes. They even gave me the green light to do it, you know. Says a lot about your worth despite your reputation, doesn’t it?
” His gaze slid back to me, glittering with intrigue that verged on mania.
“But I enjoy being a part of something bigger. The purpose of it. Your bodies can be used for many things for this grand plan.”
Shit. He could have ended us both with that rifle the moment he spotted us. To a creature like him, a weapon like that was little more than a performance prop.
It was impossible to overpower a shapeshifter with bare hands.
Silver. I needed silver. My pistol was five feet across the floor.
I lunged for it on hands and knees, clawing it back into my grasp.
As I staggered back onto my feet, I was grateful that those guards had thought to prepare for the event with silver bullets.
I had six rounds left in the chamber by my estimate.
Six chances to get through that tough skin and end this imposter here and now.
But when the shifter turned to face me, my finger hesitated on the trigger.
It was my best friend.
A wicked smirk crawled onto the shifter’s face. He was well aware of my turmoil and taking full advantage. “Problem?” he drawled.
Hearing Cliff’s stolen voice again was enough to sever the taut thread in my chest. I pointed the barrel of my pistol at his heart and squeezed the trigger. The shapeshifter dodged, then charged for me with a cold, singular focus.
I fired another shot, this one clipping his thigh and making him stumble. The shifter groaned, his stride faltering as blood bloomed through the fabric.
Now. I had to move while he’d lost momentum.
Four shots left. I closed the space between us, clubbing him over the head with the gun to daze him further. I thrust the barrel against his neck and—
The shifter bared his teeth, bashing his forehead against mine with inhuman strength. Spots flew into my vision, and the pistol was torn from my hand and tossed aside.
I landed on my back beside Lee, the air utterly knocked from my lungs.
I was reminded why I fucking hated fighting shapeshifters.
Nearly as strong as vampires, and chatty psychos to boot.
Groaning, I locked eyes blearily with Lee, who looked more terrified than I’d thought possible for the smug bastard.
“You’re doing great,” he panted.