by Adrian, Lara
“Jesus Christ,” someone hissed.
The news anchor kept talking, resting his finger against the receiver in his ear. “What’s that? All right, we’re getting new information. Apparently, the armed men inside have a message they want to deliver. Is someone getting me that video link?” The anchor paused for a moment, then nodded at the camera. “Okay, stand by and we’re going to have that feed in just a moment—”
The broadcast abruptly cut away from the studio. Filling the screen now was a live video feed of a twitchy looking man with a pock-marked face and a leering grin. He stood in a small office somewhere inside the theater, holding an assault rifle in his hands. He wasn’t alone. Half a dozen more gunmen stood there too, clustered in a circle around the perimeter of the room.
Kneeling in front of them in a bespoke suit festooned with a colorful sash and a lapel full of medals was a Breed male with his hands raised in surrender.
“Son of a bitch.” Gideon raked his hand over his disheveled hair. “That’s the ambassador from the Breed nation in Ireland.”
“Yes,” Lucan growled.
“What the fuck?” Darion paced closer to the twin TV screens. “Those assholes holding him are human.”
Micah realized it at the same time a cold knot of dread settled in the pit of his stomach. “And those guns are the same kind that opened fire on us outside Slake last night.”
“UV,” Jax confirmed grimly.
Scarface grinned into the camera someone was holding in front of him. “Opus Nostrum has a message they want to deliver personally to the Order, specifically to Lucan Thorne.”
Silence fell over the war room at the thug’s mention of the terror group. The Order’s wounds from the ambush suffered last night were still fresh. Now this.
“Opus demands Lucan Thorne’s immediate surrender. If he does not comply, we have instructions to start executing hostages. He has ten minutes to get here. After that, every five minutes we have to wait to take the Order’s leader into custody, we’re gonna ash another one of these fanged bastards.”
Micah glanced at Lucan, who stared at the monitors with a look of cold menace in his eyes.
“You can’t do it, Lucan.” Tegan’s voice broke the awful quiet in the war room.
“He’s right,” Chase agreed. “There’s no negotiating with Opus.”
Brock nodded. “Especially not when they’re armed to the teeth with goddamn UV rounds.”
On screen, the gunman’s ugly face broke into a manic grin. “One dead bloodsucker every five minutes. And just so you know we’re serious, here’s a little teaser.”
The handheld camera swung away from Scarface and toward the pleading ambassador. Then gunfire cracked from all of the Opus foot soldiers, bullets ripping into their target. The liquid UV went to work instantly. Mercilessly. The Breed victim’s screams of agony filled the war room, before falling into a hideous silence as his body was consumed.
Then the screens went black.
CHAPTER 21
Phaedra hardly recognized the woman staring back at her in the full-length mirror of her guest room.
On a whim, she’d given in to the urge to try on the outfit of black fatigues and combat boots, expecting to feel awkward in the warriors’ attire. Instead, she felt . . . empowered. She felt a little badass.
More than a little.
She could hardly tamp down the amused smile that quirked her lips as she smoothed her hands over the form-fitting, long-sleeved black shirt. The rugged black pants Brynne had given her were a couple of inches too long, so she’d tucked them into the tops of her lug-soled black leather boots.
She laughed when she imagined what Tamisia’s reaction might be to seeing her normally reserved, tea-loving friend dressed like a full-fledged member of the Order. All that was missing was a weapons belt bristling with daggers and firearms.
An urgent knock sounded on the other side of her closed door, accompanied by Brynne’s voice, brisk with alarm. “Phaedra? Are you here? I need to speak to you. It’s urgent.”
She hurried over and opened the door. The daywalker’s gaze took her in with a swift up-and-down. If she had questions about her change of attire, it didn’t appear there was time to ask them.
“Something awful’s happening in the city. A gang of Opus followers have taken control of a building downtown. They’ve got hostages—Breed dignitaries and other civilians. They say they’re willing to release them, but they want Lucan in exchange.”
“Oh, no.” Phaedra’s heart sank.
Brynne’s expression took on an even graver look. “Phaedra, there are more than a dozen of them that we know of, and they’re all armed with UV rounds. Just a moment ago, they ashed one of the dignitaries on live video. They’ve threatened to kill one hostage every five minutes they have to wait for Lucan’s surrender.”
Phaedra swallowed. “What can I do to help?”
Brynne flashed a brief, but relieved, smile. “I was hoping you’d say that. Come on.”
They ran through the snaking corridors toward the weapons room. Nearly all of the Order were already assembled and gearing up to roll out. Gideon announced he would be monitoring the operation from headquarters and holding the fort along with Savannah, Gabrielle, Jenna, and Elise. The hallway buzzed with hurried talk of unit strategy assignments and the jostle of weaponry as the men headed for the elevator that would take the teams down to the fleet garage.
Through the hustling crowd, Micah’s gaze found Phaedra. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t feel the electricity of his penetrating stare, or the spiral of longing it woke inside her. Nor could she deny the jagged bolt of fear clutching her heart as he and his comrades hastened to prepare for another UV battle with an enemy force that had already slain one of their own.
Zael and Jordana, also dressed in black like everyone else, intercepted Phaedra and Brynne as they arrived at the edge of the activity. Their small group was quickly joined by Sterling Chase and his daywalker mate, Tavia.
“Phaedra’s in,” Brynne said. “Do we have our plan of attack?”
“Yes,” Chase said, “and our odds of pulling it off just got better.” Turning a rushed nod and a smile on Phaedra, he then signaled to Lucan and the others that they were ready to move out. “Let’s go. We’ll lay out the details on the way.”
They split up into two units. Chase, Tavia, and Nathan took Phaedra, Brynne, Zael, and Jordana in one of the Order’s Rovers. Micah and the rest of the warriors followed Lucan and Tegan into a huge black SUV that looked as heavy and indestructible as a tank.
With Nathan at the wheel, Chase doled out instructions for their covert support strategy their team would be providing for Lucan and the others.
Phaedra prayed the plan would work. While Lucan feigned his intent to publicly surrender in front of the building, his warriors would be taking up positions around the location at various points of entry. Meanwhile, Phaedra’s team would be infiltrating the theater from the roof and service entrances with the goal of protecting the hostages and eliminating as many UV gunmen as possible until the Order could come in to safely rescue the captives.
“Everyone ready?” Chase asked after Nathan had parked the vehicle a couple of streets behind the historic building. At the round of assenting replies, he pulled his black knit cap over his light-colored hair. The tips of his fangs gleamed as he spoke. “All right, let’s get this done.”
They jumped out of the vehicle on silent feet and made their way through the darkness to the back of the old brick theater. Chase indicated the zigzagging fire escape where Zael and Brynne were to take Phaedra up to the roof. As they began the climb, Nathan wrapped his arm around Jordana, then leapt from the ground to a second-floor railed balcony that circled the building.
Phaedra held her breath as she watched Nathan stealthily unlock a pair of French doors then slip inside with his Atlantean mate. Chase and Tavia leapt to the balcony on the opposite side of the building and went in from their assigned position too.
&nbs
p; Zael was the first onto the roof. Brynne hopped up from the top of the metal fire escape, then they both reached down to grab Phaedra’s hands and hoist her up beside them.
A chill night wind skated across the roof tiles, carrying the sounds of the video news crews and curious spectators who had gathered in front of the building after the reports of trouble inside. People on the ground out front started to shout when they spotted Lucan approaching by himself.
“That’s him!”
“Holy shit, Lucan Thorne’s actually giving himself up!”
Phaedra exchanged a smile with her two partners. The Order’s risky plan was moving right on schedule. Now all they had to do was execute their end.
Alongside Zael and Brynne, she stole toward the roof’s access door Chase had shown them on the digital blueprint they reviewed on the way from headquarters. Brynne mentally disabled the lock and the three of them slipped inside. On silent feet, they moved onto one of the many catwalks two stories above the stage.
The performance had been halted in a hurry, as evidenced by the knocked over stage props and vacated orchestra pit with its scattered chairs in complete disarray. The sounds of panicked voices and crying drifted in from the open doors of the vestibule in the front of the theater, where the gunmen had apparently corralled their hostages.
“Let us go,” one of the captive Breed males pleaded. “There’s Lucan Thorne now. You have what you wanted, you bastards!”
“Not yet, we haven’t,” came the smug reply. “All you bloodsuckers stay put and do what you’re told. We want a nice, big crowd out there before we open these doors. Anyone gets brave and we’re gonna ash another of you just for the fun of watching you fry.”
Brynne eyes flashed with rage at the human’s threat. She looked at Zael, giving him a short nod. Then she stepped off the edge of the catwalk and dropped to a crouch on the stage as silent as a ghost. She started moving swiftly toward the doors to the vestibule.
Zael listened to the earpiece connecting him and Brynne to the rest of the Order’s teams and Lucan. He nodded, then whispered to Phaedra. “Everyone’s inside. I’m going down to help Brynne get the hostages back into the theater. Tavia and Jordana are closing in from their positions too. Once we have them all inside, then you can shield—”
“Hey, bitch!” A menacing shout came from the theater below. “How the fuck did you get in here?”
Zael’s face blanched. “Brynne.”
His palms lit up with power—at the same time the crack of a gunshot split the air.
Phaedra sucked in her breath. The UV bullet wouldn’t have given Brynne anything more than a puncture wound. That is, if she hadn’t been fast enough to dodge it.
And if her Atlantean warrior mate hadn’t unleashed a ball of light from his palms at the same instant.
The human slammed against the wall from the impact of Zael’s assault, dead even before his broken body hit the floor.
Panicked screams went up from the crowd being held in the vestibule.
The men holding them there showed the first signs of alarm as well. One of them poked his head into the theater.
“Fuck! Biggs is down,” he shouted into a mouthpiece clipped to his jacket. “Repeat, Biggs is—”
He didn’t get the chance to finish. Brynne let a dagger fly. The blade now buried in the gunman’s chest silenced him as he crumpled to his knees, then fell in a lifeless heap.
“Hit the switch!” another of the Opus lackeys bellowed from the vestibule. “Hit the goddamn switch now and unlock the doors. We gotta get the hell outta here!”
“What’s going on?” Phaedra asked.
Zael shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t like it.”
Smoke started to filter in through the ventilation system. It was bitter and strange, and tinted an odd, reddish color. It billowed in more rapidly now, big clouds of it beginning to fill the theater from all angles.
Zael’s receiver rasped with an incoming status from the Order’s teams. “We’ve got gunmen fleeing for the basement exits over here,” Darion’s deep voice reported. “We’re going after them.”
“Get out! Everyone, get out,” Brynne shouted into her comm unit. She started coughing as the smoke fell down toward her. She vaulted back up to the catwalk, her irises lit with amber sparks. “They’re pumping Red Dragon inside here.”
“Damn it,” Zael growled. “I need to get you out of here. Phaedra, you too. Back to the roof with us. Now.”
Down below in the vestibule, the Breed civilians and diplomats started choking on the narcotic fumes. The snarls and animal sounds they made as the Red Dragon absorbed into their bloodstreams put a chill in Phaedra’s marrow.
Their captors having abandoned their posts, the Breed hostages had no one to keep them inside their makeshift pen.
One big male in a tuxedo burst out of the vestibule and into the theater. He tilted his head up, spotting them on the catwalk. His lips peeled back, fangs bared in rising Bloodlust. On a roar, he sprang into the air.
Phaedra’s palms went hot with her alarm. She released the bolt of light that built in her hands, knocking the snarling Breed male back to the floor.
Another one stormed inside behind him, letting out an unearthly bellow.
“Let’s go!” Zael shouted, hurrying away with Brynne huddled close to him, her face buried in his chest to keep from breathing any more of the toxic air.
“What about the rest of them down there in the vestibule?”
“They’re a lost cause. The Red Dragon has them now. If I don’t get Brynne out of here, it’ll have her too.”
Phaedra started running with them, panic like cold lead in her breast. She only hoped Micah and the other warriors heeded Brynne’s warning. Part of her couldn’t bear to leave without knowing for certain they had fled the building.
She hesitated, needing to know he was safe. If anything happened to him—
The thought cut off abruptly as an iron grasp sank into her shoulder and yanked her back.
On a sharp cry, she wheeled around . . . and found herself staring into the savage, bloodthirsty amber eyes of the tuxedoed Breed male she should have killed with her power.
His jaw hung open, revealing razor-sharp fangs dripping with pink-tinged saliva. “Where do you think you’re going, pretty?”
# # #
Micah’s vision burned raging amber when he saw the newly turned Rogue in the fancy tux catapult himself up to make a grab for Phaedra.
The Breed male may have been a gentleman when he arrived at the theater event, but the clouds of Red Dragon pouring in through the ventilation system had made him a slavering animal. Putting him down would be a mercy at any time now that he was Rogue, but the male had made the mistake of threatening Phaedra and for that, his death was guaranteed.
Micah leapt up behind him with not even a second to spare and drove one of his long titanium daggers into the back of the Rogue’s neck. The metal was toxic to a Breed vampire caught in the throes of Bloodlust.
The body dropped off the catwalk, plummeting to the stage below.
“Micah.” Phaedra stepped forward on a small cry. “I didn’t want to leave without knowing you were okay.”
“I’m good now,” he said, relief at finding her unharmed pouring through him. He kept his words to a minimum, trying not to breathe any more of the poisonous dust. Grabbing her around the waist, he used every measure of Breed velocity at his command to flash to the roof’s open exit and bring Phaedra outside to the fresh night air.
Zael and Brynne were there too. The Atlantean had his hand resting on his mate’s back as she doubled over and tried to expel the Red Dragon fumes from her lungs.
“Is she all right?” Micah asked.
Zael gave him a grim nod. “She will be once I get her out of here. Where are the rest of the teams?”
“Clearing out of the building as fast as they can.” Micah was still holding on to Phaedra, his arms unwilling to release her. “Are you okay?”
; She nodded. “You saved my life.”
He cocked a crooked grin. “I still owe you one. Don’t make me have to pay it back.”
She smiled, reaching up to caress his face. Christ, it felt good to be holding her, to be looking into her eyes, even under shitty circumstances like these.
Tegan’s voice sounded in Micah’s ear. “You safe?”
“Yeah. I’m on the roof with Phaedra, Zael, and Brynne.” Micah cursed under his breath. “Things are fucked up ten ways to Sunday inside. That Red Dragon they pumped into the vents has turned all the hostages into Rogues.”
As if to underscore the grim situation, a loud crash sounded from the front of the theater building, followed by a burst of terrorized screams and general hysteria.
“Ah, fuck,” Tegan hissed. “Those sons of bitches let them loose. We’ve got Rogues pouring out of the building down here.”
“I’m on my way.” He glanced at Phaedra, reluctantly letting her go. “Stay here with Zael. I will come back for you.”
He took off before she could argue with him, which he was certain she was about to do.
Peering down from the rooftop at the front of the theater, he watched in horror as a mob of close to fifty Breed vampires rushed at the news crews and spectators.
Left with no alternative, Lucan, along with Tegan, Brock, Darion, and Jax had formed a line and were taking out the charging Rogues as they poured out and ran blindly to attack human prey.
A hail of 9mm gunshots rang out. Titanium blades flashed, spilling the blood of the Breed civilians who, only minutes ago, had been among the Breed nation’s most prominent citizens and dignitaries.
All of it captured on live video being broadcast around the city, if not the whole world.
Another goddamn setup.
Another direct strike on the Order from Opus Nostrum. One that had now painted not only the warriors, but the Breed as a whole, as savage monsters who could only be controlled by death.
Micah cursed as he watched the carnage worsen. Then he drew the hand-tooled titanium blade his father had given him when he first joined the Order, and he stepped off the edge of the roof into the fray.
