Page 133 of Sight of Fate

I’m here. Relief pours through our connection along with a glimpse of the pure rage they’re feeling.

We’re on our way.

Hank’s maniacal laughter echoes in the night air, and I look up to find his back to me. The air crackles, and all the hairs on my arms stand up. Lightning cuts through the night like a sword, striking two of the soldiers near Hank, killing them instantly.

Hank swears and points up. “Bastard is on the roof. Bring it down.”

A soldier takes a knee and raises the large cylinder in his hand. A rocket shoots out of it, a whistling sound heralding its arrival. In horror, I watch it strike the far corner of our office building with a loud bang. Glass rains, dust billows, and the two floors above it crash to the ground, but somehow the structure remains standing.

Come on, I silently urge, tearing my gaze from that side of the building to the back corner. In relief, I see Andros drop to the ground with Elijah in his arms. My broken vampire swiftly takes out the few soldiers guarding that side, then the two of them move into the shadows of a nearby alley.

Hank’s soldiers reload the bazooka or whatever it is. Knowing what’s coming, I slowly crawl behind one of the ATVs and plug my ears. The second rocket fires, screaming across the street to hit our office again. This time, the building crumbles along the right side, sending glass and debris flying. I cover my head with my arms, but unlike the soldiers around me with their armor and helmets, it does little to protect me from the sharp shards slicing across my skin. Hundreds of tiny cuts appear, then slowly disappear as my body heals each one.

It takes several minutes for the dust to settle. When it does, Andros and Elijah are standing on the corner of the street nearest to us. Shots ring out as the two groups fire on each other.

James moves to the outside perimeter and raises his hands. Electricity arcs from several of the streetlamps, sending bolts of sheer power toward the soldier’s guns, disarming them in a matter of seconds.

Furious, Hank turns and raises his own weapon, intending to shoot James, but I slam into him from the side. We both go tumbling to the ground, but Hank’s quicker to get up. He pivots and raises his gun to shoot whoever just hit him. When he sees it’s me, his jaw drops, and he turns toward the middle of the street, finding only a pool of blood.

I look past him, watching as James raises his hands again, but before he can kill Hank, a shot rings out, hitting him in the back of the head. He falls like a stone, eyes staring sightlessly at the night sky. Hank turns and laughs when he sees James dead. Air rushes out of my lungs as I stare at James’ lifeless body, praying he’ll awaken like I did, but after several moments, it’s clear he’s not going to. As a witch, mated to another witch, he never gained the immortality I did.

I subtly press my finger to my palm until the symbol pulses in response.

Hank grabs my elbow and jerks me up. I scream and pummel my fists against his chest, releasing all the fury and fear that’s held me captive for years. He places the hot barrel against my forehead, and I press into it.

“Go ahead,” I spit. “I’ll get up again and again.”

His finger presses down, and I lift my chin, bracing myself for the pain. Hank curses and slowly lowers the gun. “What I wouldn’t give to kill you, but you just became infinitely more valuable to me. Immortal, huh?”

Something large and dark shoots out of the sky. Teague with Macklin gripping his wrist. They hit the street with the force of a semi-truck, and the asphalt cracks like a spider web, spreading across the street to where we’re standing. Shots blaze from above, and I scream as the bullets hit them, tearing into Teague’s wings and Macklin’s back. Blood and bone fly. Suddenly, the shots cut off, and several bodies fly off the roofs around us.

I look up and see Ronan and Alejandro standing on the edge of one building. Leif on another. Strangers on the third. Having taken out the snipers, they disappear and minutes later reappear on the street behind Teague and Macklin.

Glancing at my two mates, it takes everything in me not to run to them, but I know it will only cause Hank to act rashly. Tears roll down my cheeks, and my heart thumps wildly in my chest while I wait for their bodies to push the bullets out and repair the destruction left behind.

Hank’s fingers dig into my elbow, and my arm goes numb, but his gaze never leaves Teague and Macklin. Finally, bullets drop to the ground, the metal ringing against the asphalt, and sixty-eight seconds later, they both stand unharmed, their eyes locked on Hank and me.

Hank quickly holsters his gun, then reaches down and grabs the one thing I’ve been dreading from his belt. A grenade. He loops his finger through the pin and holds it up for everyone to see. The world around us halts, suspended by one maniac’s threat.

Fury fills Teague and Macklin’s faces. “Let her go, and your death will be quick.”

Footsteps echo across the pavement as the area around us fills, but I don’t dare take my eyes off Hank. Timing is everything. The last thing I want is him to panic and pull the pin early.

His head swivels. “A bullet may not kill her, but our tests have proven that an explosion will do the trick.” His voice rises, becoming high pitched. “Tell your army to move back.”

Elijah and Andros are still on the corner across from us. On the next corner, a huge white wolf paces back and forth, waiting for a chance to pounce. Leif. Add in Ronan and Alejandro and a half dozen supernatural strangers, and I can see why Hank’s becoming hysterical. They’re formidable foes.

Six soldiers from the other side of the building slide into formation slightly behind Hank and me. Raising their weapons, they train them on the supes, and I know the moment is close.

Turning to face Hank, I study his lined face. The years really haven’t been kind to him. I laugh, and he stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. But it’s quite the opposite. Every thought is crystal clear. “Ten years ago, my vision saved your life. Today, the Fates are correcting that mistake.”

Lightning forks from the sky, taking out all six soldiers around us in a single blinding hit. I glance over and see Elijah lowering his hands.

Hank’s hand shakes uncontrollably, but his desire to live is stronger than I thought, and the pin stays in the grenade. But his fear is growing. He pivots again and again, searching for additional soldiers or an escape of some sort.

Andros steps closer, halting only when we swing in his direction.

“Tick-tock, your time is up,” I sing, looking up at the sky, my blood thrumming with knowledge. He’s close.