Page 103 of Crimson Moon Falling

“I won’t force you, but Wilson and his people are coming.”

I risked a peek around the bumper. He stood exactly where he’d been, his Glock held loosely at his side. His head tilted slightly, as if listening for me, the planes of his face sharp and his eyes searching.

“I’ve made improvements to the implant design.” He took a step forward, casual, unhurried. “Better integration, and more precise control. You’ll be able to access your abilities without the side effects of burnout. No more nosebleeds, headaches, or arrhythmia.”

Marlowe moved toward me, and I raised the gun and fired. The recoil jarred my burned wrist, and I bit down on a scream. The bullet took a chunk out of the concrete pillar behind him, and he ducked. A fluid, almost lazy movement, then he straightened with a low chuckle.

“There she is.” The pleasure in his voice made my skin crawl. “That’s one of the things I love about you, pet. You never quit.”

It was time to go. I scooted around a minivan, heading toward the next row of cars, my breathing shallow. The implant sent another pulse, trying to stabilize the tremor in my hands.

“I’ve thought about you every day since Roswell.” Marlowe’s footsteps echoed as he moved parallel to me, staying visible, keeping his distance. Playing with me. “Do you know how rare you are? A Polymorph with your particular combination. Your Resonance and ability to manipulate electricity. Your brains and training. And your mother’s gift.”

Dread curdled my stomach as he moved.

“We’re going to upgrade your chip, and I’m going to polish you up.” His voice followed me as I slipped between a delivery truck and a sedan. “I’ve written new code. You belong to me, and we could do so much together.”

The bond flared against my sternum, and relief and fear flooded my system. Conall was close. Headlights swept across the garage’s entrance, and a black Range Rover swung into the aisle, moving fast. Behind it, an Escalade.

I kicked off the oversized shoes, my bare feet hit cold concrete, and I sprinted.

The bond roared in my chest, a live wire of relief, fury, and desperation. Marlowe turned when he heard me running.

“Riley, stop.” His voice sounded almost panicked, as if a parent watching his child run out into a busy road.

The Range Rover skidded twenty yards ahead, the passenger door swinging open before the vehicle fully stopped, and Parker leaned out, one hand on the doorframe, the other holding a gun.

His face was stone. “Move your ass, Bug!” he yelled as he fired at Marlowe. Shots echoed, deafening in the enclosed space. Marlowe grunted and ducked behind a support column.

I reached the Range Rover and dove through the open door. My shoulder hit Parker’s chest, and he caught me with one arm, hauling me inside. The stairway door flung open, and three guards spilled out. Marlowe turned and fired at the guards as he slid into his SUV.

Conall threw his Range Rover into reverse before Parker closed his door, the Escalade behind us reversing too. Guards in tactical gear, weapons raised, spilled into the garage from the north entrance as Marlowe backed out with us.

On the street, Conall followed the Escalade through a red light as I crawled into the backseat, accidentally planting my elbow in Parker’s face, and collapsed.

“Fucking hell.” Parker turned to look at me, sprawled out in the backseat, wearing oversized, bloody scrubs. “Where is the blood coming from? What’d they do to you?”

I couldn’t answer. My lungs couldn’t find air, and the bond was hot in my chest. Conall’s fury and fear and desperate love washed over me in waves, blurring my vision. I pressed my forehead against the seat and shook.

“I’m alright,” I whispered, my implant working to steady me.

Conall sucked in air through his nose and pulled in his energy. The pressure around my heart loosened, and my shaking slowly stopped. Conall’s jaw was tight, and when he assessed me in the rearview mirror, his eyes were pure gold.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to because I could feel his rage and relief.

Parker turned and stared back at Marlowe in the black SUV as we drove away. “That asshole’s providing cover. Why?”

He turned back to look at me, and when he took in my pant legs, he stilled. Gently, he reached back and pulled up the material.

“We need to get her to Sawyer’s Packhouse. She’s got second-degree burns on her ankles, and she looks like she’s going into shock.”

Conall glanced back at me through the rearview mirror, his jaw clenching. Then he changed lanes.

Parker pulled out his phone. “We have her, but she’s a fucking mess.” He paused and let out a mean chuckle. “Yeah, Castillo, I know. Nothing new. We’re heading to your Pack house in Vegas. Will you give your people a heads up? Yeah, I’ll tell her.”

I closed my eyes and tried to get my breathing under control as images flashed through my head. Wilson, Langston, the dead ogre. That horrible doctor shoving his fingers inside me, Marlowe and his corrupted Compulsor energy and terrifying possessiveness. The warm, solid bond was the only thing keeping me from coming apart.

“Stay with me, love. We’re almost there. We’ll get you cleaned up and a few pain meds in you. Just stay with us,” Conall soothed as he sped through the exclusive neighborhood.