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His monster fucking truck, the one that he hadn’t fired up since the fall, that had sat in an unheated shed, that should have been drained of oil and gas and all fluids—and why the fuck hadn’t he done that!—was blasting out of the barn, the doors splintering apart.
There was only one person who could be behind the wheel.
Nalla was all fury and pedal-to-the-metal as she plowed into the ground game. How she managed to only go bowling forlessers, he didn’t know. But somehow, she didn’t target the Brothers. Only the white, soulless killers who had come on the attack—
“Fuck!” he hollered as he was struck by a bullet.
Turning to thelesserwith the point-blank aim, he ducked into a roll, and came up shooting on bended knee. The slayer wasn’t prepared, that pasty-ass face registering all kinds of what-the-fuck!as twelve pounds of lead was pumped into him.
As Nate jumped back to his feet, he intended to go after Nalla—yeah, and do what? flag her down and issue her a self-preservation ticket?—when he saw something out of the corner of his eye:
A black dagger in the hand of a female slayer.
And as she lifted it over her head, the incapacitated fighter she was about to kill came into sharp focus.
“Nooooooooooooooo!” Nate screamed.
Throwing all his strength into his legs, he surged forward, racing through the hail of bullets, zeroing in on that blade to the point where he didn’t see Nalla’s father on the ground or the hatred in the slayer’s face. Just the blade.
Just that one blade… that seemed to hold everything that was important to him in balance.
Nate leapt into the air a good ten feet away because if he kept running, he wasn’t going to get there in time. But fuck, his superpower was immortality, not being able to fly.
He wasn’t fast enough to grab the blade.
But he sure as hell got under it.
Just as the black steel point reached terminal velocity, he somehow managed to slide his body in between the weapon and Zsadist’s chest so that his back was what got stabbed.
And then shit was fucking on.
In spite of the blazing pain, Nate rolled over and took control while on top of the Brother. Swinging his fist, he punched the slayer in the head, where a raw wound was showing parts of her brain. Then he incapacitated her instantly by pushing his fingers into a gaping hole in her throat.
Just as he grabbed a silver blade from her belt.
“That’s my fucking father-in-law, bitch!”
With a single, vicious movement, he plunged the knife into that empty-ass chest cavity.
Thepop!was loud, the blast of light was bright, and the smell was a sting in the nose that he relished.
But he was also crushing the injured male beneath him.
Pitching himself off of Zsadist, Nate was breathing hard and bleeding badly, but adrenaline was a great thing, it really was.
“Holy… fuck,” the Brother wheezed. “That was some kinda timing.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
No, not at all, Nate thought as he measured the male’s wounds.
The one in that arm was bleeding so badly, it had turned the white ground into a fucking cherry sno-cone.
As gunshots rang out, and his fucking truck—why couldn’t he have just owned a Kia,why?!—made wide swaths through the middle of the fighting, he knew if he was going to get Nalla’s father to safety, he had to move fast.
Shoving his arms under the Brother, he picked Zsadist up and started running across the field of combat. Dodging both friendly fire andlesserbullets, jumping over downed slayers—and staying out of the path of the monster truck that the love of his life insisted on weaponizing—Nate got Z into the cabin, over to the set of stairs, and down into the earth.
