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Nick sat up and held his hands toward her, his eyes never leaving his enemy. Still clutching the knife, Ivan was getting up now, murder etched on his features. A deep, ugly gash ran the length of his cheek. Calla frantically sliced off the thin nylon bindings. Keeping himself in front of her, Nick grabbed the gun from the floor and pointed it at the other man’s chest. The wicked blade in Ivan’s hand was covered in blood.
The vampire saw the look in Nick’s eyes—the look of a man pushed completely over the edge—and seemed to realize he was carrying a knife to a gunfight.
Self-preservation took over. Ivan turned and dove toward the stairwell as Nick opened fire. The killing shot sailed over his head, slamming against the far wall. He scrambled up the stairs, bullets pinging off the railing. None of them connected with their intended target and Nick swore violently.
“This isn’t over, Westfall,” Ivan shouted. “I’ll see you burn in hell!” Then he vanished.
Nick panted, burning with hatred. If he wasn’t wounded, dammit, his aim would have been true.
“One of our men will catch him, surely,” Calla said in a shaky voice. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he lied, turning to face her. “Are you all right, baby?”
She started to answer. Then she spotted the wet stain spreading on his naked side and sucked in a breath. “He stabbed you,” she moaned. “I thought it was his blood on the knife.”
“It’s not bad, I promise. Listen, we have to get out of here. He’s gonna set the place on fire. He’s got broken furniture stacked up and soaked with kerosene on the main floor.”
“But we’re chained up! Leave us here and go for help.”
“I’m not leaving the two of you here! Especially when he could double back or send reinforcements while I’m gone. Let me try something. I want you to stand up and hold out your wrist.”
“You’re going to shoot the links?” She shook her head. “That’s dangerous. Only works in the movies.”
He shook his head as he projected a message to Ryon, their Telepath. Ryon, I’m with Calla and Tarron and they’re shackled in the basement storage area. Tell Kalen to send a spell through the stronghold to release all metal shackles or something. And I need some clothes, too.
Got it, the wolf sent back.
A tense few moments went by, and then—
All of the shackles snapped in two with a loud pop. Calla jumped back involuntarily at the noise, then checked her hand, and her brother’s. They were free.
“It worked!” she shouted. “Let’s get out of here.”
Just then, a bundle with jeans, boots, and a black T-shirt appeared a few feet away. Nick pulled them on as he spoke to Ryon again.
We’re headed up. Situation?
Grim, boss. The wolves your brother brought are helping, but we need an atom bomb. Fast. That fucking Jinn is still keeping Kalen neutralized and unable to bring out the big guns to wipe them all out.
Fuck! Who can we call on? I don’t know how to reach the other covens, and Tarron’s in no shape to help me. Who’s left, Ryon? Think!
A moment passed. Kalen says to get Sariel. He’s the only one who has the power to put an end to this thing.
Sariel? The Fae prince was the gentlest creature Nick had ever known. He had serious doubts about Sariel’s skill as a warrior. Blue’s not a fighter.
He doesn’t have to be! He just has to drop that A-bomb we need. That’s all. Boss, we can’t hold out much longer!
All right, send one of the vampires to get him! Do it now!
“Nick?” Calla asked, bringing his focus back to them. “What’s going on?”
“We’re sending someone after Sariel,” he told her. “He’ll try to turn the tables in our favor.”
“I hope it works.”
“Me, too.”
Looking down at Tarron, he knew there was no point in trying to rouse him. Even if he awakened, he was too far gone to have any idea what was happening. Nick tucked the gun in his jeans.
