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GABRIEL
The sound of grunting rouses me. I grab a hunting knife from my belt, roll over, and stab a rager in the head right before it latches onto my clothed arm.
That was close, because even with my layers, there are no guarantees.
Fuck, how long have I been laying here? It feels like someone took a baseball bat to my chest and my head. I bring my hand up and feel a hot sticky mess where hair should be.
Jesus Christ—what the fuck happened?
All at once, my confusion clears.
Brooke!
She was depending on me to keep her safe, and he took her. The damn Vulture took her.
I failed.
My hand flies to my chest. It’s sensitive to the touch, aching when I breathe too deeply. A thin layer of kevlar under my layers saved me from certain death, but it hardly spared me pain.
But that wasn’t the worst of my injuries. What really did me in was hitting my head on the cement on my way down. It’s a wonder I even roused, the impact was so great.
Another rager jets towards me. I pull my blade from the one I just dropped, hop to my feet, and dispose of its buddy quickly.
Bile fills my throat as images of Brooke flash through my mind. I can’t believe I let him take her. She trusted me. I told her I would protect her.
I failed her again.
I was so close. Safety was right fucking there. All I had to do was call and have Cole come with a team, but I selfishly didn’t want her to hate me.
I deserve her hatred and scorn.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a deep breath and assess the situation.
It’s unlikely he’d hurt her. Women are more valuable than water to some. So valuable that he’s probably not keeping her to himself.
Which means he’d bring her back to Frank.
I slugged the bastard good, but it wasn’t enough to kill him, and since I’d nullified the threat he’d posed on stage, I’d focused on the others, taking down several of his men.
If I had to guess, that Vulture bastard Roy is probably trying to secure himself a good life by taking Brooke back to the club. Frank will throw food, women, and security at him, and Brooke will suffer, paying a price that should be paid by me.
And I will pay it. I’ll pay it one hundred times over if it means I can deliver Brooke to safety.
But I have to call it in first, because if this is my swan song, I need assurance that Brooke will get to where she should have been all along—the Keep.
I rush back to the haven and fire up the radio.
Gabriel:Cole, Ali, Dane, anyone—I’m in a haven on the upper east in need of backup.
I grip the receiver so tight; I feel the plastic begin to give. I stretch my fingers, reminding myself that I can’t afford to get sloppy.
Alistair:Alistair here. What’s up?
Gabriel:I was out on the street with my sis—with Brooke, and a goddamn Vulture ambushed us. They took her.
Alistair:Shit…
Gabriel:He called himself Roy, but I can’t say if that’s his real name. Dark hair, missing half his teeth. I have reason to believe he took her to a club north of Salem street.
