by Ciara Graves
We were walking into Sector 2 with no real hope of making it out in one piece.
Save the donors, kill Lucas, blow the place up. It was all we could hope for.
I tugged Mercy aside, leaving Bowen to sort out the weapons we’d lugged here from Rufus’s hideout.
Horace was chuckling as he dug through another bag. He was certainly turning out to be the crazier of the two brothers.
“You sure you’re up for this?” I asked Mercy quietly.
“Said I’m awesome.”
“Mercy, I’m serious. You just killed someone who was practically a member of your family. I don’t want you charging in there if your head’s not in it.”
“Rafael, I’ve never needed to blow something up more in my life. Or kill something,” she uttered as her eyes darkened. “If I don’t go there, I will go crazy. I need to make them hurt. I need to make them bleed. I want Shuval to feel vulnerable. For once. Do not ask me to stay behind.”
“Wasn’t going to,” I promised her. “Don’t die?”
“Ditto.” She stood on her toes and kissed me. “Let’s get ready for a fight.”
It was going to be more than a fight. It was going to be a chaotic bloodbath.
After all we’d been through up to this point, I’d been in full agreement with her.
The time to show mercy was over. If Shuval wanted a damned war, we’d give her a damned war. No more letting her have the upper hand.
We’d make them all pay.
We’d kill them all.
Chapter 15
Mercy
I adjusted the bracers on my forearms, ensuring I had every ammo slot filled. I had my two pistols, one with silver bullets, the other with iron. I had extra magazines in holsters at my lower back.
I swapped out my sledgehammer for a lever action rifle. The bullets packed more of a punch. My right arm held the ones that would explode. The ones on my left were some iron and some silver.
I had four daggers tucked into my knee-high black boots. Another sheathed at my lower back, along with my collapsible sword. Two bandoliers of bombs were strapped across my chest in an X, over my black long-sleeved shirt. My hair was pulled back in a braid. I was ready to go.
Rafael stood beside me, bearing a shotgun with his own bandolier of bombs and smoke grenades strapped around his waist. Two short swords were sheathed at his back.
We no longer looked like a bounty hunter and a Fed. We were battle-hardened soldiers about to step over the edge into the abyss.
The remainder of our small attack force were all heavily armed and silent.
We stood in the back room of the Wailing Siren, waiting for Sycamore. Going through the transport would’ve been pointless. They’d have a trap set and ready in case whoever took Monroe came back.
We were taking an alternate route, one we controlled.
Sycamore had one job. To get the donors out of Sector 2 and back here.
Iris and Jeremy would be busy placing bombs set on a thirty-minute timer throughout Sector 2. We all had until then to hightail it back to the portal and get our asses to safety.
If we didn’t make it, we’d go up in flames with the rest of the place.
Thirty minutes wasn’t a lot of time, but it was all we could risk. If we were there any longer, the chances of making it out alive were zero.
Sycamore finished drawing the runes on the wall and dropped the chalk.
“Is everyone prepared?” he asked.
There was the sound of guns being checked, blades being unsheathed, and feet scuffing against the hardwood floor.
Wesley was the only one staying behind. Even Shep was coming with us. No one had been able to talk him out of it.
Horace nudged Damian nudged each other.
Iris nodded to me as I glanced at her over my other shoulder.
Bowen was to my left, staring ahead.
Nor, Jeremy, and Shep brought up the rear. The other Feds were tucked in the center of our group.
“We’re ready,” I told Sycamore. “As soon as we step through, the countdown begins.”
Sycamore placed his hands in the center of the circle. As he spoke, the runes came to life. They lit up with a brilliant white light. I squinted against the glare.
The runes swirled into the center of the circle, and we were forced back a step from the burst of magic coming to life.
The portal crackled as if it channeled all our anger. As though it was ready to attack along with us.
“Thirty minutes,” Sycamore yelled over the rush of power. “Go!”
Rafael and I ran in together and stepped out into the trees of Sector 2. We weren’t far from town.
It was quiet. Eerily quiet. They were ready for us. The question was, where the hell were they?
We stepped to the side as the others followed through, one after the other. Sycamore was last. He and Shep would guard the portal and guide the donors out.
That was another hitch in our winging it plan. Convincing all these idiot donors they needed to leave what they deemed a perfect home. That would be nearly impossible.
Our plan, what little there was of it, had been to knock on doors and tell them they needed to evacuate or be killed.
As Rafael and I crept through the trees, inching toward one of the main streets, that no longer became an option. The donors had been rounded up and forced into metal holding pens.
The iron bars were a good twelve feet tall.
Some of the people were shouting. Others screamed as guards—some of them hybrids—circled around them.
I knew there more hybrids than these. This meant the others were probably at the mansion or scattered around town.
“Horace,” I whispered. “You’re in charge of getting them out.”
He eyed the pens with a wicked grin. “You got it.”
He hustled back and whispered to Nor and the three Feds with him. I couldn’t remember their names, so I kept referring to them as the trio. If they lived through this, I’d figure out who they were and thank them.
Rafael adjusted his position to my left, his eyes focused on the mansion. “There are no guards on the wall.”
I stood on my toes to see better. That was a bad sign. “Damian, Bowen, you’re with us. Iris? You know what to do?”
She reached into the leather satchel across her body and gave me a nod.
“Then let’s move. Thirty minutes. Not a second more. Move.”
We split.
Damian and Bowen followed Rafael and me as we moved through the trees.
There was open ground between us and the wall, but no guards. It was a trap. Any idiot could tell that much.
I was debating which way to go when Damian pulled a bomb from the bandolier on his chest and chucked it toward the main gate.
I ducked as the bomb exploded and the guards who’d clearly been lying in wait behind the wall shrieked and rushed out, some of them burning. Others were immediately dead.
Shouts rang out behind us. Gunfire erupted. Several explosions followed. Fire lit up the night, white-hot, eating everything in its path.
I made sure the rifle was loaded, then looked into Rafael’s eyes. There was no time to tell him everything I wanted to. No time for anything now, except death.
His hand pressed the back of my head toward him and he kissed me urgently.
Then it was over, and he charged out of the trees, blasting his shotgun at the guards.
I racked a round and rushed out after him. I had the rifle loaded with explosive ammo. Each round that hit penetrated through the first enemy and hit the guard behind him. They both went up in flames, crashing into those around them.
Bowen and Damian flanked us throwing more bombs to help clear a path toward the mansion.
I longed to look behind me and see if they were getting the donors out, but didn’t have time.
We pushed through the enemy and made it to the twisted and shattered metal gates. The courtyard was filled with the cries of the dying, and suddenly darkness
threatened to close in around us.
“Mercy,” Rafael yelled.
I reached back to Bowen.
He handed me a larger bomb. One filled with iron shrapnel. As the nefaries moved in, their solid wall of shadow threatening to cut us off, I threw it in the center.
“Take cover,” I shouted.
We rushed to get behind several parked trucks.
Rafael tucked my head against his chest as the bomb burst.
The ground quaked. The nefaries shrieked as iron tore them to shreds. Some shrapnel pelted the trucks. A piece found its way under the truck and struck my calf. I bit back my yelp of pain. The wall behind us cracked and crumbled.
When it was over, we stepped out, around the trucks, to find the bastards crawling across the stones, trying to get to safety.
I reached the first one, planted my boot in his back and smashed him into the ground. He begged for mercy—ironically—but I was all out of it tonight.
I grabbed my pistol, the one loaded with iron bullets and fired one into the back of his head.
Rafael and Damian finished off the others as Bowen blurred toward the front doors.
They were locked, but doors weren’t going to stop us tonight. He set another bomb on them and blurred away around the front of the mansion. He stood next to me while Rafael and Damian took up their posts on the other side.
We flattened ourselves to the wall and waited.
And waited.
The bomb didn’t go off.
Bowen cursed and took a step to see what was wrong.
Suddenly, the bomb was thrown back into the courtyard.
Rafael and Damian dove out of the way. Bowen yelled and shoved me to the side, then covered me with his body as the bomb went off.
Flames shot out.
I threw my mage fire as fast as I could to cover us all, but the bomb was too strong.
Bowen hissed in my ear as the fire licked at his back. He was able to stand, but he was hurt.
The backs of my legs were singed, but otherwise, he took the brunt of it.
Damian and Rafael pulled each other upright, both with clothes smoking and burns covering their arms.
There was no time to check wounds as battle cries filled the night and hybrids poured out the front door.
Bowen grabbed his daggers and blurred straight into their midst, letting them share in the agony they caused him.
I fired the rifle until I was out of explosive ammo. I tossed the weapon aside and grabbed my pistols. The iron and silver bullets struck anything that came too close, but we didn’t have time for this shit.
“Mercy, go,” Damian shouted over the chaos. “We’ll deal with them.”
“There’s too many!”
“Just go! Rafael, grab her. Get what we came here for. Go!”
Bowen and Damian would be overwhelmed if we left. Rafael snagged my arm even as I was trying to fight my way to Damian.
I shouted and shoved against Rafael, but he picked me up and rushed us through the front doors.
Smoke filled the courtyard behind us, blinding the attackers.
Rafael had just gotten us around the doorway when another bomb went off.
The doorframe cracked and the walls around us shook as dust fell from the ceiling. Stones chipped and flew our way.
Rafael grunted. He was hit. I tried to look back into the courtyard, but remembered Damian’s words to stop being stupid.
We had a job to do, and when you had a job to do, you didn’t look back. Only forward.
I would return, and they would be alive. They had to be.
I checked my pistols, swapped out the half-empty magazines for full ones, then set off after Rafael.
The halls were empty for the most part.
We came across a couple of random guards which Rafael dispatched easily with the shotgun. The blasts should’ve drawn more to us, but it didn’t.
“I don’t like this,” I whispered as we crept down a long stretch of corridor. “You sure you know where you’re going?”
“Trust me, I know. From what you said, Quin’s staying where Lucas’s guests used to. We’ll go there, find what we need, then find Lucas.” He loaded more shells into the shotgun. “Let’s move. We’re down almost half our time already.”
I checked my watch. Shit, he was right.
We ducked down another hallway. He stopped at a door. He used the shotgun butt to bash it in.
The room was empty. We checked the next three and finally found a room with a familiar cloak draped over a chair, the bed unmade, and clothes strewn about as if whoever had been here left in a hurry.
“He’s gone.” I kicked a chair in rage, but there was nothing we could do about it now.
Rafael and I shuffled through all the papers on the floor and desk, looking for anything we could use as proof against Quin.
Rafael shoved aside the desk, revealing several pages that must’ve fallen in Quin’s hurry to leave.
“This should be enough to hang him.” He handed them over.
I skimmed them. He was right. They were signed orders from Quin to establish a holding farm for donors. That was the wording. Holding farm.
Not only that, but on the next page were instructions for how many donors were needed for the reapers and how many were to be taken away for the rituals.
Rafael shoved the papers in his pocket. “Lucas.”
“How are we going to find him in this place? What if he left with Quin?” I asked.
“Trust me. He’s here. He wants to see us dead. He’d stay to watch the show.” Rafael’s jaw clenched as he nodded toward the door.
I followed him once again, weaving our way through the maze that was this damned mansion. It was far larger on the inside than it originally appeared. When we reached a set of double doors, Rafael hesitated.
“What’s in there?”
“A way to get to the northern watchtower. Has a view of the entire sector.” Rafael lifted his hand to open the doors then stopped. “This is where Antonio died.”
I covered his hand with mine. “You can do this. You’re finally going to have the chance to avenge him. I’ll be there with you the whole time.” I kept my hand on his.
Together, we opened the doors.
The room beyond was like a throne room. There was a raised platform to my left. Tapestries covered the walls. There were a couple of windows through which flames rose up to block out the night sky. Several explosions had rocked the mansion since we’d been in it, but this room held strong. There were no cracks in the wooden beams overhead, nor in the stone walls. There was no furniture either. Not even a chair.
Rafael held the shotgun up, aimed and ready.
I did the same with my pistols. Slowly, we entered. We had our backs to each other, circling slowly.
There wasn’t anywhere for someone to hide except the shadows in the corners. The torches weren’t lit. Neither were the braziers flanking the raised platform. The doors at the other end were wide open, and we picked up the pace to reach them.
We were a foot away when they slammed shut and locked.
The torches and braziers burst to life as we whirled around.
Lucas stood on the platform. Two nefaries at his side.
How had we not seen them at all? How hadn’t I sensed him? His power pulsed off him in waves of dark energy.
I cringed, wanting to run the other direction.
“Rafael, how did I know you’d be here tonight leading the charge?” Lucas mused, sounding genuinely pleased to see Rafael. “And who’s this you’ve brought with you, hmm? Well, no matter. You’re both going to die. Along with your friends.”
Rafael growled. He squeezed the trigger on the shotgun.
Shadows swarmed us.
I fired into them with the iron bullets but emptied the magazine.
In a desperate last attempt to get the shadows off me, I grabbed for a bomb, but it was wrenched out of my hands.
The shadows disarmed me.
Somewhere
in the darkness, my hand brushed against Rafael’s. He clung to me, then we were torn apart.
The darkness abated.
Cold, hard steel was pressed against my neck.
Lucas stood behind me, his other hand holding my hair.
I tensed to move. He yanked my head back. The sharpened edge of the blade sliced my skin enough to make me bleed.
“Let her go,” Rafael snarled.
My eyes searched for him. There he was, kneeling on the floor with a nefari on each side.
“You know, I don’t think I will. Not yet. This could be quite a bit of fun, wouldn’t you agree?”
I swallowed hard, hands twitching at my sides, wanting to do something.
Time was running out.
Lucas didn’t know about the bombs.
If we didn’t find a way out of here, we were all going to die.
Chapter 16
Rafael
Lucas had Mercy in his grasp, his sword at her throat.
He stood on that damned raised platform just as he had the night he killed Antonio.
Coming after Lucas had been a stupid idea. I should’ve let him go up in flames with the rest of this place, but the raw fury inside me wouldn’t let me.
I had to see him dead, know it for certain this time.
I had to be the one who killed him.
Now he had Mercy.
“It’s me you want,” I snapped. “Take me and let her go.”
“Why would I do that? You seem to be fond of this woman.” Lucas breathed in Mercy’s scent as she snapped curses at him. He tugged on her hair.
She gritted her teeth, but didn’t cry out.
“I can see why, too. She is a gorgeous specimen.”
“You kill me, Shuval will be pissed,” Mercy warned.
“I know who you are, girl, and who said I would kill you? Making you bleed while Rafael watches, that’s where the fun is. You know where we are?”
“Yeah, I do. And no, I don’t care. Neither does Rafael,” Mercy said, forcing a harsh laugh. “You’re not going to make him lose his mind. Not anymore.”
“Is that so? You don’t think he’ll fall apart when I remind him of what happened to his brother? How it’s his fault Antonio, dear sweet, young Antonio was killed here?”
