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“He will be all right—it’s above the lung.” Saint shuffled Jayden around and laid him on the couch, then knelt over him. The wound continued to ooze dark blood. Jayden blinked too fast and groped for Saint’s arm. “The bullet went through,” Saint said.
Saint was bleeding too. The rifle round had hit Saintfirst. He’d absorbed much of the impact, and he’d heal fast. Saint had this in hand. There was nothing Octavius could do here, but he could get Raiden.
“Go, Octavius, hunt that bastard down and turn him to dust!”
Octavius bolted for the door. Saint would see Jayden was cared for. Octavius had a traitor to catch. On his way out of the door, he spotted a second crack in the side window. The two cracks indicated the bullet’s rough trajectory, and Raiden couldn’t have fired from too far away—too many trees. He had to be close.
How had Raiden found them? And why?
Didn’t matter.
Only finding Raiden mattered. Stopping him.Killinghim.
Early evening dew wet the brush Octavius tracked through. He kept low and traveledfast. Raiden would have seen him coming. In fact, he’d probably shot at Jayden to ensure Octavius would come for him. Why else would he shoot a feeder if not to lure Octavius outside? Even if this was a trap, Raiden was no fighter. The coward shot from afar or played with test tubes in the lab, preferring to keep his hands clean.
But why was he here—
Octavius heard the hiss of air milliseconds before the crack of a gunshot, and veered left, expecting the bullet to sail by. But Raiden had anticipated the move. The round smacked into his shoulder, punching him off his feet.
He fell in the grass at the forest’s edge and pressed his hand over the scorching wound, grasping over his left shoulder with his right hand, searching for an exit wound. If it hadn’t punctured clean through, his body would heal around it.
Fire pulsed down his chest and arm, rendering both numb. What by Nyx had Raiden shot him with? He’d been shot before, multiple times, but those gunshot wounds hadn’t burned hotter with every heartbeat. Something was wrong with the round.
Octavius dug his fingers into the wound, widening it as his skin tried to knit itself closed. Heat pulsed hotter and hotter. He had to get the damn thing out.
Raiden emerged from the tree line, rifle slung at his side. He wore black and green, attempting to camouflage himself. He dropped his hood and shoved his light chestnut bangs back from over his glasses. How long had he been out there?
“It’s best if you don’t struggle,” he said casually. “It’ll just hurry the venom along.”
“Venom?” Octavius panted.
Raiden pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his habitual tick. He didn’t even need the glasses. “Encapsulated-venom rounds,” he said. “Each one has its own tiny vessel inside. On impact, venom is released. One shot isn’t enough to kill someone like you, but it’ll slow you down. Two shots, however? It’s a little experiment I’ve been working on. Among other things. It’s amazing what you can do with the Brotherhood’s unlimited resources and nobody watching.”
Fuck, he had venom in him?! Octavius tried to prop himself up on his arms, but the venom blazed through his veins. He thrust his fingers into the wound again, dug around, and snagged the projectile. He pinched it with his nails and pried it out, then tossed the deformed slug away. Raiden didn’t seem concerned, but nothing much seemed to ruffle him. He was Raiden. The science guy, as Zaine had nicknamed him.
“You were painfully easy to find. The only safehouse activated in the past few months. You set the alerts up, I believe. Once one of the houses detects movement inside, it pings Atlas. Rest assured, nobody else saw it. Nobody is coming.” He smiled, and the smile Octavius had once admired now looked cruel.
“Why are you doing this?” Octavius hissed as Raiden came forward. “I trusted you!”
He removed a fresh round from his pocket and slotted it into the rifle’s chamber, then cocked it with force. “Venom to the heart will finish you. I don’t even have to bite you.” He pulled a face. “So archaic, killing with fangs, don’t you think? Technology is far more elegant.”
“I don’t understand. I was… We were friends.” Octavius’s vision blurred as a fresh pulse of agony surged through him. He arched against the pain, mouth open, fangs leaking, desperate to defend himself.
“Friends? Is that what you thought? Of course you did. Poor Octavius, just looking for love in a world that hates him.” Raiden crouched and pouted. “If you weren’t such a toxic bitch, perhaps the Brotherhood would be here to save you. But alas, nobody is coming.” He mock-winced. “Probably a good thing, as you’re not exactly the stand-up Brotherhood member you used to be. Hm? Keeping a feeder?” he whispered. “Fucking a nyktelios? How far you’ve fallen.”
“It’s not like that—”
He snorted and straightened. “It’s exactly like that. Not that I care. It’s all coming to an end anyway and you, dear Octavius, made it all possible. I couldn’t have brought about the beginning of the end without your brilliant creation.”
There was only one thing Octavius had created in his very long life. Most things he destroyed, but he had one shining accomplishment on his resume. “Atlas.”
“Exactly.”
“What have you done?”
“Just rebooted it back up, with a few minor alterations. You should be proud. You taught me everything I needed to know.”
Atlas had been the powerful information hub at the heart of the Brotherhood. Mikalis and the Brotherhood used it to monitor the human world and alter any information regarding nyktelios and the Brotherhood, helping them slip unnoticed through a tech-heavy modern world. Atlas had been offline since the explosion that had destroyed the Brotherhood’s New York hub. Octavius had worked with Raiden to restore it.
