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“Ambrose...” Eloise trails off and that’s when I see them. The human guards I’d dismissed are coming out from the shadows now, their eyes honed in on us, the same blue-green glow to their eyes. Fucking hell, the man had been right about my arrogance regarding the guards. But it’s the last mistake I’ll make tonight.
Garner takes a step forward, a macabre grin on his face. “Killing you is going to be so fucking satisfying.”
As one, they launch toward us, death in their eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Eloise
One moment, a dozen guards are stalking towards us with creepy-ass glowing eyes, and the next moment I’m on the ground, Ambrose standing over me. I scream as one of the beefy dudes in black tactical gear soars through the air from a jump that is definitely not natural for a human. Then Ambrose has caught him in midair, faster than my brain can process, gripping him by the shirt. In the same second of time, Ambrose throws him towards the transport boxes, snarling and hissing in a way that might be funny later.
Right now, though, it’s really fucking scary... and hot.
Curling up in a ball, I’ve got to get my shit together; right now is the worst time to get all turned on by my mate going full vampire on these drugged-up humans’ asses.
“Get her out of here,” Ambrose orders and then someone grabs my waist.
Out of some instinct, I kick out before I realize it’s Malachi. He doesn’t seem to care, and my kick probably felt pathetic to him anyways. His eyes are straight red, though, and fear sinks its claws into my heart. I trust Ambrose, and know even if his eyes were fully red with hunger, he wouldn’t hurt me. Malachi isn’t my mate, though...
“It’s the fight,” Malachi snarls, his deep voice raspy with restraint. He yanks me onto my feet before I can object or thank him for clarifying that he’s just hyped up on vampire adrenaline and not hungry. “Let’s go.”
We don’t even take a step before another of the guards is behind him, his hands going to Malachi’s head. I can’t do more than scream before the guard begins to jerk his hands to the side. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how powerful vampires truly are. Because Malachi just fucking twists to the side with the guard’s movement and then punches through the man’s chest. When he jerks back, Malachi has his fucking heart in his hand.
The guard doesn’t drop, though. His eyes glow brighter and he manages two steps before he finally falls, his drugged body catching up with the fact that it was dead. I stare in horror at the dead man, wincing when I hear the wet squelch of Malachi crushing the organ before dropping it.
“Shit,” he grunts, moving to my side and taking another hit meant for me. “Take my fucking gun,” he orders as he grapples with the guard. I must be in shock or maybe he compelled me, but I don’t hesitate. I move towards him, ignoring the fact that he’s trading punches with someone and crouch low to avoid swinging elbows. I don’t remember unhooking the strap on the holster, or even sliding it out, but the heavy handgun is in my hand.
Looking down at it, I say, “I don’t know how to use it.”
Ambrose is in front of me, blood splattered across his face. “Point and shoot,” he barks. “Safety off. Now get your ass somewhere else.” He’s gone just as fast and all I can think is he’s somehow already lost his suit jacket.
One of the guards is thrown past me, jolting me into action. I run towards the desks, hoping I can make it to the stairs and hide upstairs somewhere. Blood fills the air, I don’t even need to have heightened senses to smell it. I weave between the desks, trying to put anything between me and the fight.
I yelp, and slip backwards when one of the guards is suddenly there in front of me, snarling. “What the fuck,” I eke out as I stagger backwards. “What the fuck is that shit?” I bring up the gun but before I can raise it more than a few inches, the guard’s head snaps backwards. Like the other one, he’s able to bring his head back up and snarl once more before he crumples to the ground, blood oozing out of the bullet hole between his eyebrows.
“Thanks, Lan,” I say, not sure if he can hear me, but grateful all the same. I jump over the dead man, but two more guards appear. I skid to a stop, my flats slick with blood now. “How many of youarethere?” Not sticking around for their answer, or for Lan to pick them off, I book it towards the rows of boxes. I just have to keep moving and stay away from the fight.
There’s a gap in the row wide enough for me to slip between, and from all the movies I’ve watched, I know I can’t stay put. Looking up the crates, I don’t even process my thoughts before I’m climbing up them. Somehow I scramble up to the top. It isn’t graceful, especially while holding a gun, but I make it to the top and flatten myself on my stomach.
Safety off. “Right,” I mutter to myself and inspect the gun. I find the safety and switch it off, muttering about how I should have gone with Deidre to the firearm workshop back in high school. At least I hadn’t really needed Ambrose’s helpful advice of “point and shoot.” I’m not that inept, for crying out loud.
I inch forward, trying to keep low and just glad of the crates having lids. It’d suck right about now if I had to do an awkward obstacle course of shoeboxes, computer parts, bags of rice, or whatever the hell is in these things. I finally get a clear view of the fighting area and almost vomit out my heart.
Ambrose and Malachi are separated, each one fighting off at least five guards. Both of them are saturated with blood, and I slap a hand over my mouth when one of the guards lands a punch to Ambrose’s face and sends him staggering back a step. Ambrose roars as he strikes back, a knife in each hand, and cuts through the guard’s head before delivering a kick right to the man’s chest. His headless body goes one direction while his head goes another. The man’s body staggers backwards, as if somehow still able to try to catch itself before death catches up with it.
“This is some insane shit,” I mutter. I narrow my eyes. Michael disappeared, and all the bodies are wearing the same black uniform. The box shudders as something slams on top of them, and I look over my shoulder. “Fuck. Ambrose!” I scramble to my feet as Michael Garner, bloodied and crazy-eyed walks towards me with a very pissed-off expression. “It’s Michael!”
There are only a few more boxes before the end of the row, and there’s no way I can jump to the next one. I turn around, gripping the gun with both hands and raising it.
“Don’t come any closer.” Later I’ll be impressed with how confident I sound and how my hands don’t even shake. “I don’t want to shoot, but I will and you fucking deserve it.”
“You’re on the wrong side, Eloise,” Michael replies, walking towards me without hesitation. “Deidre was so close to being transformed. She would have thanked me for it. Fucked me for it, even. But you had to steal her away too soon. Now she must be in terrible pain if she isn’t already dead.”
“Eloise!” Ambrose’s shout comes just before the stack of boxes shudders from a huge impact. I have to throw out my hands to keep from tumbling off the boxes.
Michael has no issue and keeps walking towards me, quickly lessening the distance between us. Fuck it, if Michael Garner dies and people ask questions, I’ll tell them the truth. Raising the gun again, I pull the trigger. The recoil sends my hands up, but Michael stops. He rotates his arm, inspecting the bullet hole in his bicep. Holy shit, I actually shot him. And it isn’t worth anything as he shoots me a creepy grin.
“This is why we humans must become a better version of us. We have the potential in our DNA. This wound? It’s already healing. Don’t you understand how this will change our world?”
