“Got her,” Cole said suddenly. “This way.”
They followed him down Seventy-Second, stopping at the mouth of a narrow service alley.
“She’s right down…” Cole sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh, fuck yourmother.”
Dorian followed his gaze, his heart damn near ready to pound out of his chest.
“And your mother’s mother,” he added.
The alley was full of grays. Dozens upon dozens—more than he could count at a quick scan. But they seemed subdued, or possibly sick. They milled around the alley like zombies, some of them scratching at the walls, some of them feeding on each other, others standing still as if they’d just run out of batteries.
But there, in the back of the alley, something had drawn their attention.
“Something in that dumpster’s got ‘em riled up.” Cole shook his head. “I got a shit feeling about this.”
“Are you sure she’s here?” Aiden asked, unable to hide the note of worry in his voice.
“If she ain’t here now,” Cole said, “she was. Scent’s still fresh.”
“Charlotte!” Dorian called out, desperation and hope warring with the fear and fury in his heart. The grays closest to them turned to look, but he didn’t care. If she was here, he needed to get to her. Now.
If she’s even alive…
“Charlotte!” he called out, forcing the thought from his mind. There was no room for it.
Bloody hell, woman. Where are you?
“Charlotte!” he repeated.
A small voice finally broke through, echoing across the sea of writhing grays. “Dorian?”
Dorian nearly fell to his knees. His name on her lips was a sonnet, a symphony.
“Charlotte,” he breathed, the sound of her voice—however faint—giving him new life. “She’s alive. Where are you?”
“Trapped in the dumpster!” she called back.
“Stay put,” he said. “We’re coming after you.”
“See you on the other side, brothers.” Cole shifted into his wolf form and charged in.
Aiden and Dorian exchanged a quick glance.
“About that raise…” Aiden said.
“Fuck yourself, mate.”
“Let’s hope we live long enough for that.”
And with that, Dorian and his best mate blurred into the knot of grays.
As Dorian knew it would, the unprovoked attack put the beasts on the defense. It was as if someone had flipped the switch; all at once, they attacked.
Side by side with his friends, in a desperate bid to reach his woman, Dorian fought them off, dodging their vicious but uncoordinated attacks, ripping heads from bodies as if he were pulling weeds from the garden. More than half of them had the demon amulets, their bodies rising again almost as soon as they hit the ground.
How the fuck had so many managed to reach the city?
The question prodded the back of his mind, but Dorian didn’t have time to ponder it. Right now, there was only the fight. Another head, another bloody heart, another amulet ripped from its cords, another pile of ash at his feet. The stench of so much blood and gore nearly overwhelmed him. Yet all the while, the sight of that grimy black dumpster in the shadows was a lighthouse in the storm, keeping him on course.
