“No witnesses,” he added, leaning in just enough for the threat to settle. “Or we find someone else to deal with.”
Manshu drew in a slow breath and looked back at me. For a second, something like regret flickered across his face.
“You shouldn’t have tried to run,” he said quietly.
Bang.
The sound tore through the alley, deafening, and for a second, everything stopped. Then the pain hit.
Hot. Blinding. The pain exploded through my stomach as my body folded in on itself. My hands flew down on instinct, pressing against the wound, as I hung my head. Barely a second had passed, but my fingers were already overflowing with red liquid.
Manshu let go and the world tilted as he threw me aside. My body slammed into the metal garage gate with a loud crash before dropping hard to the ground, air ripping out of my lungs.
“A waste,” he grumbled. “It's a shame.”
Engines roared to life. Headlights flashed across my vision, white, blinding. Tires screeched as both cars tore out of the alley and the silence of the dark rushed in after them.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears, loud and uneven, as I pressed harder against my stomach, trying, and failing, to stop the blood.
It just kept coming, warm and slick, slipping through my fingers no matter how hard I pushed.
My vision flickered in and out. Breath catching, dragging, each inhale harder than the last.
“Via!”
A voice cut through the haze. Sharp. Familiar.
“Via!”
Something hit my cheek, causing a light sting, and my eyes cracked open just enough to see Lark hovering above me, her face blurred with tears.
“Oh my god—” Her voice broke, hands hovering, not knowing where to touch. “Via, w-what happened?!”
My tongue felt thick. Heavy.
“M-Manshu…” The word scraped out. “G-gun…”
“Fuck.” She choked, turning. “Nathan! Help me! Get her up, we have to go, we have to?—”
Arms slid under me, lifting, and I caught a glimpse of Nathan over her shoulder. His eyes were hooded, heavy with something like sorrow, darting between me and Lark’s frantic panic, hismouth pulling into a grim line. He knew. Of course he did—he was a vampire. He could tell I was bleeding out far too fast.
My thoughts drifted to the only other vampire I knew and kinda liked. Cal.
Wait. Cal. Calix. Calix Winstale. The gun. Manshu. Death.
My hand twitched, grabbing weakly at Lark’s wrist, pulling her attention back.
“C-Cal…” My voice broke apart. “T-tell h-him… w-warn…” The words wouldn’t come fast enough. “W-Winstale…”
Her grip tightened around mine, eyes wide, frantic, as she called out my name over and over.
My strength drained out with the blood soaking through my hands.
This was it. The only thing I could do. My last shot.
My last breath dragged in as everything began to fade, and I clung to my last prayer.Save him, please. Save Calix Winstale.
13
