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I’m halfway down the hallway when I pause. My brow furrows as I sniff the air, alarm bells going off in my head.
Smoke.
Something’s burning.
My pace quickens as I bolt down the last stretch of hallway to the big double doored entrance to the billiards room that also serves as the inner sanctum for the Para Bellum president—aka Chase—and the other club leaders. The smell of smoke only grows more powerful, and the air around me gets hotter.
What the hell.
My hand has just touched the doorknob when the door itself suddenly yanks inward. I gasp, stumbling forward into the room and barely catching myself on the doorframe.
Then a figure blocks my way.
A figure with a hauntingly beautiful, terrifying face painted like a skull, smeared away and scuffed in places.
Deimos.
He’s standing there in front of me looking haggard, disheveled, and brimming with black energy, like a mad king. The face paint only makes it even worse; even scarier. He’s cradling his hand, bloody and mangled, and when his eyes meet mine, I see a savagery in them that shakes me to my core.
“You…” His eyes are dangerous as they focus on me. His lips curl into a sneering snarl so full of pure hatred and vitriol that it sucks the air from my lungs.
It’s only then that I notice there’s smoke billowing all through the room behind him, and flames flickering across the ceiling. I go to push past him, but his good hand juts out and grabs me roughly by the throat, sending my pulse jangling. He slams me back against the doorframe, blocking me from entering or even seeing properly into the room.
“Do not go in there.”
His voice always has a raspy edge to it. But tonight, it’s like he’s Death itself. The voice coming from this man’s body is one that’s been through hell and back. Or maybe it’s something inhuman speakingthroughthe man standing in front of me.
Something snaps and crackles in the room behind him, and a fresh wave of smoke and sparks billows behind him.
“Fire!” I choke through his grip around my throat. “Deimos, there’s a—”
“Run away,” he hisses venomously. “Turn around, and fuckingrun away.And don’t ever fucking look back.”
The crackling sound snaps again, pushing more smoke through the room. My jaw sets. My courage rises up deep within me and I plant my hands on his firm chest.
“Let me go.”
I shove him, and before he can grab me, I’ve gotten past him and into the room.
Oh God…
The whole far wall is on fire, the heavy brocade curtains on the window roaring with flames that lick at and char the ceiling. The couch is on fire, and a chair, and the Persian rug in front of the fireplace.
I’m about to scream, when my eyes land on something else. And the needle on my whole world scratches.
It’s two bodies: one is the VP of Para Bellum, Brad Hathaway, and the other…
My hand flies to my mouth, clamping over it as I scream into my own throat.
The other is Chase, face-up, eyes open and staring lifelessly at the ceiling, with blood pooled around his head.
So much blood.
Before I can say or do a thing, powerful arms go around me, yank me back, and shove me roughly from the room. Deimos’ good hand wraps around my throat as he slams me into the wall opposite the door to the club room. His eyes spark black fire as he looms over me, snarling down into my face with all the vengeful wrath of the very god of terror he’s named for.
“I warned you not to go in there,” he snarls viciously. “I fucking warned you!” His eyes squeeze shut tightly. So does his hand around my throat.
“Your life just got very complicated, Dahlia,” he hisses quietly. His eyes open again, and when they do, the look he gives me is like a knife being slammed into my chest. “You’regone. You are leaving Knightsblood tonight. You will never, and I do mean fuckingnever,speak of what you saw here to anyone, ever, in your entire life.”
