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“Good luck getting through the glass,” Evan mutters with a scoff. “It would take a damn cannon to break it. Why aren’t they flying in?”
“Because they plan on leaving with a hostage,” West replies, clearly referring to me.
He’s not wrong. It’s the only thing that makes any sense.
“I want you guys to dispatch any soul you feel is evil,” Rhys demands. “Glut yourselves if you have to. We need to weed out those motherfuckers—quick.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Aidan agrees with an evil smile even I can see in the dim. He shares a look with Ian, and together, they silently head up the stairs.
Carver and Javier move to the second floor, Rhys and I go to the first, leaving Evan and West to the bottom floor closest to the hidden basement door.
In some ways, it’s fortunate the only entry and exit points are all located on the south side of the house. Since the garage takes up the entire northwest section, the only entry points are security-enhanced doors that close like a vaulted safe when the power is cut.
However, the system does have a fail-safe. One that only triggers in the event of a fire.
Fuck. Just as I think this, the sprinkler system goes off, the hiss of the automatic locks disengaging, gusting through the house.
Son of a bitch.
“They are using it as a diversion,” I breathe to Rhys from our perch on the staircase leading to the first floor. A shiver rattles through me at the freezing water falling in a torrent around us. “Five are on standby to see where the biggest threat is. Three are coming in the third-floor window, five through the second. Seven are now planning to go through the first-floor window in the great room.”
I see them in my mind. I can feel them like a jagged nail scratching into my brain—their racing heartbeats, their minds buzzing in preparation for the fight, their smug boasting of who can kill the most wraiths.
Bastards.
“Bottom floor?” he asks, the cold not appearing to affect him at all.
My head gives a faint shake without me telling it to. “None yet.”
“Well, let’s get to it. I’m warning you—you better stay with me,” he demands on a whisper. “Don't you dare leave my side.”
Swallowing hard, I give him a tremulous shake of my head. “I won’t. I’m sticking with you, remember?”
After one hundred and sixty years of loneliness, I finally have something worth living for. Just the thought of losing what we have makes my chest ache.
Rhys studies my face for a moment before hooking a rough hand around the back of my neck, hauling me to him. His breath whispers across my lips, his fear palpable with every single passing second.
“I love you, Gorgeous,” he murmurs before dropping a short, fevered kiss to my lips. “Always.”
“Always,” I repeat, touching my forehead to his.
I’m going to keep us alive. I am.
I have to.
Before we leave our positions, I silently slide off my leather-bottomed sandals, their slick soles more of a hindrance than a help.
Barefoot.
I don’t want to be barefoot. It’s too close to my vision.
Rhys takes point. He’s up the three steps and in the hallway leading to the great room, before the window breaks. The poor bastards trying to break it didn’t anticipate reinforced glass, though, and the compact battering ram they’re using isn’t quite doing the job.
Then an enormous phoenix shoves past the others, the hulking giant easily the biggest Ethereal I’ve ever seen in my entire life. He appears to consider the glass for a minute, then lifts his boat-sized boot and simply kicks the window in.
I pause to reconsider my weapon choice. I’m not sure a nine-millimeter bullet is going to cut it with this burly bastard, but I’m going to give it the old college try. Waiting for the next crack of thunder to muffle my shot, I take aim for the only spot on his body not covered in body armor.
Three rapid-fire squeezes of my trigger, and he goes down like a stone.
