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It worked.
I took a deep breath, then ran as fast as I could for the stairs. I grabbed the banister one-handed and flung myself over it, dropping down the stairwell onto the second to last step and landing half crouched. I saw the wolf immediately. Saw the gun pointed straight at my head. I threw myself sideways, smashing several balusters as I tumbled out into the third-floor hallway. The bullet meant for my head thudded into my shoulder, and pain erupted.
The bastard was using silver.
I'd been shot far too many times by the wretched stuff, and my flesh reacted instantly. Fierce, aching fire flared down my arm, stealing sensation, stealing strength, before I could even blink.
If I didn't take him down soon, I wouldn't be able to.
But the minute I moved, he'd shoot me again. And with the silver already in my shoulder, I just didn't have the speed behind me anymore. Not even my vampire blood could save me from the effects of it.
So instead of moving, I remained where I was, shuddering and shaking and sweating. It wasn't an act. The pain was intense, and growing sharper. But my fingers - the ones on my right hand, the hand I could still feel - were wrapped around a sturdy piece of broken baluster. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it didn't need to be when you had the strength of a vampire behind you.
Although if he didn't move soon, the silver might snatch that from me, as well.
For several seconds, nothing happened. He remained where he was, motionless and silent, except for the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing. But I could feel his tension, could smell his readiness to act should I even twitch.
Finally, he stepped forward. One step, then two. Soon the sharp aroma of male wolf filled every breath, and it was all I could do not to twist and plunge the stake into his flesh. He wasn't anywhere near close enough for that.
So I waited as the fire in my shoulder flared even brighter and the numbness began to creep across the rest of my body.
He toed my back, then retreated quickly. I didn't react. He tried again, harder this time. I moaned - a sound that was real and heartfelt because he'd hit the broken bone. He chortled softly, then stepped over me.
I lashed upward with a booted foot, striking him hard in the nuts. As he stumbled and dropped, I twisted upright, driving the balustrade into his upper arm, forcing it through flesh and muscle and then into his side, pinning his arm to his body. He screamed, his fingers jerking reflexively and releasing the gun. I twisted, knocking him off his feet, then jumped to mine, staggering forward for the weapon.
"Jack," I panted, as I wrapped my fingers around the gun. I swung around and smashed it across the wolf's face. He went down and didn't move. "Get someone here quickly. I've been shot by silver and I'm fading fast."
He swore. "The men?"
"Out of action for the moment." My back hit the wall and I slumped down its length, my rump hitting the floor hard enough to send a wave of pain through me. For a moment, I saw red. Sweat broke out across my forehead and stung my eyes. I blinked fiercely and tried to concentrate on the wolf. He might be unconscious right now, but if the bastard woke and so much as twitched in my direction, I'd shoot him. And right now, with the silver burning in my flesh, I didn't really care if I killed him or not.
"The team is four and a half minutes away," Jack said. "Hang in there, Riley."
I wasn't going to make four minutes. I doubted I'd even make two. The burning was getting worse and my hand was beginning to shake so hard I'd be in danger of shooting myself if I actually fired the weapon.
"Cass," I yelled, my voice hoarse and scratchy. "I need help here."
There was no immediate response, and I can't really say I blamed her.
"Cass," I screamed. "The men are down, Directorate reinforcements are almost here, and I've been shot. I really, really need your help."
"They're three minutes away," Jack said into my ear.
Really? I thought, a little dazedly. Cole was really pushing the speed limits.
The numbness was beginning to creep up my neck. Breathing was getting harder. Oh god. I couldn't die - I didn't want to die. Not like this.
Strength flooded me - a strength that was love and warmth and everything that was still right with my world. It battered the numbness away from my neck, allowing me to breathe a little easier. It didn't erase it - it couldn't erase it - just subverted it, sending it down toward my legs rather than into my chest and throat. It bought me time, and I needed that desperately.
You will not die, Riley, Quinn said. I won't allow it. Keep breathing. Keep fighting. I'm on my way.
No, I thought weakly. Don't. I'll be fine.
And even as I said it, I knew he'd ignore me. And part of me was mighty glad of that fact.
After a few more precious seconds, footsteps echoed on the stairs, heading down.
"Riley?" Cass's voice was tentative, as if she were ready to flee given the slightest provocation.
