I freeze, my heart pounding, every instinct I possess telling me to run. To get away.
This isn’t right.
My instincts kick in when footsteps creak a floorboard directly behind me.
I spin, my heart racing.
Four figures block the entryway, shrouded in darkness and their faces hidden behind smooth, featureless masks. The only thing visible is the cold gleam of their eyes—dark, predatory.
“Motherfucker,” I hiss, a chill running through me.
I don’t know who they are—vampires, shifters, witches, or Hunters—but I don’t need to. The intent in their frosty gazes is plain to see.
They want to hurt me.
Without thinking, I flick my wrist, pulling on the magic buried deep inside of me, coiling like fire. A sharp crack splits the air as a gust of wind whips through the room, knocking a vase off a side table. It crashes to the floor, but the men don’t even flinch.
They advance on me, two on either side. I’m outnumbered, but I’ve never been one to back down. I took out several Hunters before; I can do it again.
The first man lunges at me, a knife gleaming in his hands, but I twist out of the way, letting his momentum carry him past me. In a fluid motion, I snap my hand out, and a bolt of pure energy shoots from my fingertips, striking him square in the chest. His body jerks back, and he crumples to the ground.
One down.
Before I can catch my breath, another man charges—faster than the first. Faster than any human.
Fuck.
Is this a vampire? Shifter?
I raise my hand, palm out, and the air around me thickens, turning heavy. His mask cracks under the force, but he’s still moving.
I only have a second to realize that his eyes aren’t red before he swings at me. I twist beneath his arm, grabbing his wrist and using his own weight against him. I pull him down, spinning him onto the floor with a brutal twist of his arm. He yelps as my magic locks him in place, making him incapable of movement.
My focus sharpens as the other two close in.
Standing, I whirl to face them, my palms extended. “Who the fuck are you? Who sent you?”
“We need you to come with us,” one of the men says sternly.
I bite back my snort. “Yeah. Right on that.”
The man on the left lunges at me, and I don’t have time to move away. The force of his attack pushes me through a door—the wood now splintered—and into a living room.
And directly into a puddle of blood.
Fear skitters across my skin, and my heart begins to race even faster.
No. No. No. No.
My first thought is Ashton.
That’s Ashton’s blood.
But then I see the dead body lying a few feet away, his somewhat familiar eyes wide and unseeing.
Gregor?
Holy fuck.
