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That’s why I accepted this new life, knowing that I have to perform and work for a secret society called The Rites of Passage. It’s both my choice—because I have an itch I have to scratch when it comes to poking around, and The Rites has every door you could dream of—and my sentence. As Alister’s firstborn, this circus is my birthright.
CHAPTER 24
Steffen
Three months later
This mission will be the death of me. Despite not wanting to be dramatic, the blood pouring from my leg indicates the severity.
Fuck! Did he hit an artery? If that’s the case, I have only a few minutes to stop the bleeding. I’d give anything for a few more minutes to see Rylan again.
“He’s down!” Torben radios over our comms.
From five miles away, he’s watching the situation in the common room. Thank god. I know my little brother; he’s like gum on my shoe. I can never get rid of him. I don’t want to. I’m used to feeling him stuck to me. I need him. During my months of punishment, Torben has joined me on every hunt.
A barrage of bullets creates a continuous song of decay, as Dash, one of the Kings, rains loose Armageddon, giving me time to crawl to cover.
Tires screech in the distance, and the north wind carries the thick stench of burning rubber straight to me. My hands shake from adrenaline, not fear. I fumble with my jacket, desperate to reach my first aid kit. Blood pools beneath my leg, hot and sticky.
Most jobs, I hunt solo. This time, it was a team effort, and I wasn’t in charge. That’s why my leg is shredded. If I’d led, I’d have waited, mapped every building, found the sniper before he found me.
Everything was going great until a second assailant sniped me from the adjacent window.
Now I’m familiar with a third kind of burning. A bullet lodges within me. I’ve been shot before, but it was a through-and-through. I slam my palm down, adding pressure to slow the bleeding. I can feel the bullet inside me—a splinter the size of a semi. Bullet wounds are simpler than fire and water. So much so that I laugh, but it’s gargled with blood. All I taste is metallic. I wiggle my toes, seeking to feel the thick knit of my socks and boots, but I feel… nothing.
“Shit.”
“Must I be your savior yet again, dear cousin?” Anders sings over the comms, his voice barely audible over the gunfire.
“Hey, Torben, I need you,” I begin. I fumble for my zipper again. This time I open it. Trying to get the compression to stop the bleeding.
A sharp beep signals a cut in our comms. All I hear is the devil now as the car engine roars. “Are you trying to say au revoir?” Anders hums.
I catch sight of his car as I cinch the tie around my thigh. It’s soaked, dripping with blood.
“How dare you think that you can give up before I release you!” Anders growls as the car brakes just inches from me. A few bullets hit the windows, but the bulletproof armor holds firm.
A medical team quickly emerges from inside. I’m lifted, shoved inside. The entire SUV has been converted into a small, ambulance-like space. My back hits a stretcher. Pressure on my wound makes me growl.
The next thing I see is Anders’s face. His eyes travel down my body, pausing at my leg. A whistle comes from him. “That’s a lot of blood.”
The doc gives Anders a stern look.
Anders unzips his jacket, rolls up his sleeves, then grabs a bag and starts working. “You’re going to need a direct infusion. Good thing we’re family and have the same blood type.”
“How do you know my blood type?” I ask. Quietly, one of the nurses pulls the straps and ties me down.
“I’m the devil. I own your soul; of course I’d know you’re A-negative.”
A roar escapes my lips without my control. Glancing down, I see the doc, scalpel in hand, slicing my leg open further.
Anders watches with interest. “You can still feel, so not all the nerves are damaged.”
Anders looks at the doctor and says, “If he doesn’t make it, neither will you.”
“His femoral artery was punctured.”
“I don’t care if they point-blank shot his heart. If he dies, you die.”
