Charlotte was in there.
She was alive.
Getting to her wasallthat mattered.
The fight had drawn the grays away from her, and Dorian didn’t let up. Hours? Days? Time lost all meaning. He had a job to do, and he fucking did it—his arms burning, his body soaked with their foul blood, his eyes blurry—until the last gray in his sights turned to ash.
“Will you please fuckoff!” Aiden shouted, and Dorian spun around just in time to watch him shove a metal pole through the gray’s throat, then rip off its head.
That final gray wore no amulet, his body turning to ash before its head even hit the ground.
Certain that was the last one, Aiden dropped his weapon, the clang of the metal pole ringing out across the now quiet alley.
“Tell you one thing,” Aiden said, leaning back against the brick exterior to catch his breath. “These assholes are even more relentless than the pigeons in Time’s Square.”
“And they taste a lot worse too,” Cole said, dragging a sleeve across his bloody mouth. He’d just shifted back into his human form, naked and covered in gore, but unhurt.
A river of blood washed down the alley, mixing with the ashes of the dead into a bright red paste. Dorian tried not to slip on it as he picked his way toward the dumpster, heart thudding against his ribs.
Why was she so quiet?
“Charlotte?” he called softly.
No response.
A pulse of fear shot through his heart.
“Charlotte, love?”
Nothing.
The world tilted on its axis, nearly dumping him off.
No. She can’t be…
Behind him, Cole and Aiden fell silent.
Terror shook him to his core, but Dorian forced himself to continue that long, agonizing march to the dumpster.
A familiar scent rose above the stench of the alley, sharp and sweet. Unique. His.
It was Charlotte’s blood.
Fucking hell…
When he finally reached the dumpster, the scent of her blood nearly overpowered him. He wrapped his hands around the edge of the lid, closed his eyes, and made a wish. One fucking wish in his entire immortal life. This was all he wanted—all he’d ever ask for again.
Please, please let her be alive.
He shoved open the lid. And then, without looking inside, he hauled himself over the edge and dropped down inside.
The dumpster was mostly empty, but for a few bits of trash and broken bottles. And there, huddled in the corner, a small, dark lump.
Hot tears welled in his eyes, and he fell to his knees, afraid to call to her again. Afraid she wouldn’t respond.
But he had to know.
He reached out and touched her shoulder.
