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As Carven raced back to the open door and the gate slowly opened, I knew why. The Audi lunged forward, the engine roaring as London headed for the sprawling house at the end of the drive.
Shadows moved, coming for us. London slammed the brakes and pulled up hard…and Carven was gone in an instant. Doing what he was good at…being the cold, merciless killer as he hunted for his twin.
My breaths raced as I yanked the door handle and shoved, racing out after London.
Bang!
Bang bang bang! Shots fired in unison.
I lifted my gun, taking aim as a blur sharpened to one of Hale’s guards narrowing in on London. Breathe…breathe and squeeze. My finger curled tighter and tighter.
CRACK!
The weapon kicked in my hand. I didn’t have time to think, all I saw was the glint of steel aimed at those I loved and I reacted.
The guard stumbled backwards as the shot slammed into his shoulder. With my heart racing, I took aim again and fired as he took aim at me.
CRACK!
Only this time I hit him square in the middle of the chest. He sucked in a hard wheeze, coughed…then fell.
I watched him crumble. Flecks of blood flew through the air. But as I watched, I felt nothing at all.
A numbness clenched around my heart like an impenetrable icy fist. It was that fist I felt now. Not fear. Not disgust. Only that fist.
“Vivienne!” London roared. I tore my focus from the dying man and lifted my weapon again, took aim at the corner of the building, and rushed forward.
BOOM! Carven took aim and fired, blasting through the front door. I didn’t even flinch or turn my head, just rushed forward and stepped into the dark, chilling air of a foyer.
This is Hale’s house.
An icy shiver raced along my spine as I stepped inside the nest of my tormentor. I tried to catch my breath, but still it raced, clawing upwards as Carven’s steps faded up the stairs.
“Basement.” My words were cold and detached. “If he’s anywhere…it’ll be a basement.”
The whites of London’s eyes shone in the dark as the crack of a shot rang out from upstairs. But as we moved from the foyer and deeper into the house, with London leading the way, a wave of despair swept through me.
This place felt…empty.
Hollow almost.
And not just sparse. The light flicked on, illuminating what was the coldest, barest kitchen I’d ever seen. London scowled, turning around. Heavy steps moved overhead as Carven raced from room to room.
“Stay here,” London commanded.
I shook my head. There was no way in hell I wanted to be anywhere in this place on my own. But I gripped the gun and took a step backwards, pressed my spine against the wall of the kitchen, and listened for my lover’s resounding steps.
Hope filled me, then dread crept in.
He’s going to be here. He’s going to…he’s going to be alive.
He had to be…he…had…to…be. That ache in the back of my throat grew. They took the Daughters back to The Order to sell us for sex. But what did they do to the Sons? Where did they take them? I didn’t know. I didn’t know anything, because I’d never known they existed.
Not until London dragged me to his house for the first time. My hand sank, the gun aiming at the floor as the dread grew inside me and the heavy thud of footsteps raced down the stairs, coming closer.
“He’s not here,” Carven barked. “HE’S NOT FUCKING HERE!”
“No one is,” London added, coming out of the darkness. “The house is vacant.”
