With Darius and Jael taking point and Gray and I bringing up the rear, we led the witches down the stairs.
Most of them could barely walk, let alone use their magic. Even Haley, the strongest of the group, was fading on me.
“You good, Hay?” I asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.
She turned to me and smiled, flashing a double thumbs-up. “Hungry as hell, but I’m hanging in.”
“How’s that hope-o-meter?”
“At least half,” she said. “Let’s see what happens when we got out of this shithole.”
I had no idea what had been on the second floor before, but now it was a wasteland, littered with burning paper and overturned desks, dozens of gray cubicle walls smashed to bits.
We had to watch our footing, stepping over fae corpses. I hoped none of our guys were in this mess.
“Second floor cleared,” Darius said, leading us to the stairs at the other side of the room, slowly descending.
I could tell from the explosive chaos emanating from below that the first floor would be another fucking story.
And from the looks of things, this one wasn’t going to have a happy ending.
Thirty-Four
Ronan
In all our preparations, all our planning, and in every fucking scenario we’d run through, it wasn’t supposed to go down like this.
I saw the scene unfolding in my mind before the wolf even made his move. It would end in blood—Emilio’s—and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. No one else had seen it coming, and I was simply too far away to stop it.
I charged ahead anyway, shoving aside bloodthirsty hunters and dodging fae attacks, shielding my eyes against the bright bursts of Deirdre’s magic. Gray’s hounds were at my heels, taking down would-be assailants. I was fifty feet away from the wolf, and closing in fast.Forty. Thirty.
Time slowed. Still in human form, Elena whipped around, taking out a hunter with the butt of her gun.
Twenty feet.
From behind, another hunter attacked her, grabbing a fistful of her hair and wrenching her to the ground.
Fifteen feet.
“Emilio, no!” I shouted over the melee, reaching out for him as I ran.
But it was too late, as I knew it would be. Fighting on instinct, the wolf lunged for the hunter that had nabbed Elena, knocking him to the ground. He rose up on his hind legs, his sharp claws glinting, ready to shred the bastard who’d attacked his sister.
But Emilio was oblivious to the fae soldier hiding behind the wall.
Ten feet.
Orendiel stepped into view, a silver dagger positioned perfectly, flashing like fire in the yellow-orange light of Dierdre’s spells.
Five feet.
Orendiel was quick. Efficient. The blade cut through Emilio’s soft underbelly like a hot knife through butter.
The wolf yelped, then dropped, hitting the ground with a thud that rattled my bones.
Elena screamed.
And shattered my fucking heart.
