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"Excellent."
"Got my finger on the detonators," Nikolai said, his voice nearly drowned out by the low chop of a helicopter encroaching on the area. "Say the word, Lucan. I'm dying to light this sucker up."
"Me, too," Lucan said. He scowled up into the night sky, searching for the bird. "We've got incoming, Niko. Sounds like a chopper heading right for the asylum."
As soon as he said it, he saw the dark shape appear over the tree line. Small lights flashed as the helicopter angled for the roof of the asylum and began its descent.
A breeze kicked up as the propeller beat its steady rhythm. Lucan smelled pine and summer pollen... and another perfume that made his blood run cold in his veins.
"Oh, Jesus," he gasped as the trace scent of jasmine registered. "Do not touch the detonators, Niko! For chrissake, whatever you do, you can't let that fucking building blow!"
Chapter Thirty-three
A volatile mix of adrenaline, rage, and absolute, marrow-chilling fear vaulted Lucan to the roof of the old asylum. The helicopter had barely touched down on its landing rails as he thundered toward it from the edge of the building. Lucan was vibrating with fury, more explosive and unstable than a tractor trailer packed with C4. He fully intended to rip the limbs off of whomever was holding Gabrielle.
He approached from behind the helicopter, careful not to be seen as he rolled under its tail, then came around to the passenger side of the cockpit, gun drawn.
He glimpsed her inside. She was in the backseat next to a big male dressed in black and wearing dark glasses. She looked so small, so terrified. Her scent swamped him. Her fear tore at his heart.
Lucan yanked open the cockpit door, shoved his weapon into the face of Gabrielle's captor, and made a grab for her with his free hand. She was jerked back before he could latch onto her.
"Lucan?" Gabrielle gasped, her eyes wide with surprise. "Oh, my God, Lucan!"
He did a quick visual assessment of the situation, noting the Minion pilot and another mind-slave human next to him in the front. The Minion in the front passenger seat spun around to knock away Lucan's arm, and got a bullet in his head instead.
When Lucan looked back to Gabrielle not even an instant later, the calm one with her had put a savage-looking blade to her throat. Peeking out from the sleeve of his long black trenchcoat were the dermaglyphs Lucan had seen in the surveillance photos from the West Coast.
"Let her go," he told the Gen One leader of the Rogues.
"My, my, this is a faster response than I could have imagined, even for a blood-bonded warrior. What are you up to? Why are you here?"
The low, arrogant voice took him aback.
Did he know this bastard?
"Let her go," Lucan said, "and I'll show you why I'm here."
"I think not." The Gen One smiled broadly, baring his teeth.
No fangs. A vampire, but not a Rogue at all.
What the hell?
"She's lovely, Lucan. I rather expected she was yours."
Christ, he knew that voice. It came from somewhere buried deep in his memory.
Deep in his past.
A name cut through his mind, as sharp as a blade.
No. It couldn't be him.
Impossible...
He shook off the momentary confusion, but the slip in focus cost him dearly. Creeping up on him from the side, a Rogue had come up on the roof from within the asylum. With a snarl, it seized the helicopter door and slammed the edge of it into Lucan's skull.
"Lucan!" Gabrielle screamed. "No!"
