by Zoe Forward
Him following was not part of the plan. She had to arrive alone at the rendezvous point.
She’d spent the early part of the day moving money into hidden accounts. Both Adric and Finn could access one of these. She’d ordered their family go into deep hiding with instruction to move all three of her houses to the storage phase. Furniture would be covered, dishes would be packed, everything put away, awaiting a return likely not to be hers.
After hours of circuitous travel, she arrived at the destination, a small town outside Bergerac in France. Her meandering route had been intentional to throw off Andrew.
The cold outside the car slapped a brisk kiss on her face. She slipped on the partly salted walkway leading to an antiquated stone house in sore need of upkeep. Based on the stonework and architecture, she placed its construction well before the fifteenth century. It probably had its own dungeon, which she hoped wouldn’t become her weekend accommodation.
Kiera thought she was prepared as she made her way toward the ominous wooden front door. But sometime down the uneven walkway to the entrance, an unraveling started. Mental threads tore loose, leaving gaps in the fabric of her soul until she felt almost naked by the time she reached the front door.
The logic in needing to do this—to free Michael, to get Finn’s mate free, to keep Andrew safe, to protect the those she loved—no longer jibed with her belief her death was a reasonable exchange. Selfish thought. But she wanted to survive, to see Michael again, and to learn more from Isaac. Just when her life got interesting, it was about to end.
She fisted her hands and mentally squeezed out the doubts and insecurities.
Where were Viktor’s people? She expected at least one or two guards at the door, but none stood nearby. The three SUVs parked at the side of the house signaled many vampires here.
The front door, although not open, was unlocked. No one greeted her in the foyer or entry hallway. Something wasn’t right.
This was the right place. Wasn’t it? She scrolled on her phone to get the original text from Viktor. Only one bar of signal. Scrolling took seconds longer than normal. She jabbed at the screen, but it didn’t load data any faster.
Releasing an irritated sigh, she waited for her emails to load then searched through all recent messages.
Yes, right address.
Standing in the foyer, she listened. Male voices overhead argued. As she tiptoed up the curvy staircase, she recognized Viktor’s voice and… No. Had to be a mistake. As silently as possible, she jogged up the stairs. The old wood creaked every few steps.
Still, no one appeared to check out the noise she made.
Why did the standoff have to be outside and on a roof? She hated both wintery weather and heights. The entire scene came off ridiculously melodramatic, but that embodied Viktor.
“You’re not working alone,” Viktor said. “Who’s the girl who works with you? Is she the one in charge, or is she one of your underlings? It’s her I want, although I’ll relish killing you as well.”
“I run Nightshade,” said a guy. “Do the exchange.”
Kiera peeked out the open door that lead to a roof. A blast of frigid air hit her face. Six Squad vamps stood around Viktor. And…
Andrew. Perfectly coiffed in a dark suit, he stood rigid and gave off the impression of boredom.
How dare he?
The real questions were how he’d beaten her here and how he’d known the exact place to be. He must’ve pretended to lose her, and while she wove her way here, he took the direct route.
Adric must’ve helped him hack her phone to read her emails. Their protective natures she understood, but she’d specifically instructed them to back off and stay away. This was her show. Her plan.
Options filed through her head. She eased back down the stairs to the second floor. In front of the hall mirror, she concentrated to draw forth her magic.
Parlor tricks. Time to pull a doozy out of her ass. No prosthetics this time.
Her cell phone dinged with a video of Michael released into the care of Blay’s people in Brussels. So much blood stained his clothes. Michael stumbled in the video when they let him go. Every moment he’d been incarcerated, every bloodied and bruised area was her fault.
She touched his face on the small screen. I’m sorry.
Good thing he was nine hundred kilometers away or she’d abort the deal and run to him. His injuries called to her need to soothe and heal.
Moments later, a video of Carol released as well came through on her phone, confirming the second part of the agreement had been met. She appeared thin but not broken.
Text from Blay: They’re away.
Time to save Andrew, damn him.
When she opened her eyes in front of the mirror, the vampire staring back at her was blond with perfect cosmetics and a dimpled chin. Elise. No prosthetics. Damned amazing. The facade held as she pulled back her hair. How long she could hold the complex illusion—a glamour—in place remained an unknown. She’d never relied on prolonged magic before. The outfit was nowhere near flashy enough for Elise.
She pulled the collar of her jacket up to be around her ears and threw back her shoulders. Well, it wasn’t trendy, but it would have to do.
After a deep breath, she drew forth the flaky airhead persona that embodied this blonde. She breezed upstairs and called out, “Andrew. Andrew, darling, I’m here. Surprise. What a delightful little chateau for us…”
As she breezed onto the roof, she put her hand over her chest and took in all the guys. “Viktor? What on Earth are you doing here? Andrew, what is this about?”
Everyone’s cell phone went off in differing types of alerts and beeps. Viktor’s phone rang from within his winter jacket pocket. She hoped the messages weren’t about a planned execution of Lexan and Michael.
“Elise?” Andrew whispered. “Where’d you come from?”
“Oh my, darling, you are a bad boy. I’d heard rumors, but this is unexpected.” She chuckled low and suggestive, batting her eyelashes at the men. “A three-way with Viktor? I never thought he’d be the sharing type, but I suppose I could go there.”
“What the hell are you doing here, Elise?” Viktor asked. The viciousness in his tone sent her backward a step.
“Andrew took me home, love. He was so dashing as my savior. I thought what the hell, I’d give him a weekend and find out if the rumors about him are true. You know what they say. Well, maybe you don’t. They say he and Queen Victoria had a tête-à-tête. I’m not one to be outdone by Vickie. Then he drives up here, all stealthy, undercover-like. I thought him coy, meaning I should follow.” She employed a lot of hand gestures and tittering while edging her way to Andrew.
“Elise, sweetheart, you should go. This is none of your concern,” Andrew said. “Go. Please.”
“He’s right. This is none of your concern.” Viktor brandished a gun. “But don’t leave yet, Elise.”
She gasped and put a hand over her breast. “A gun? Oh my, what on Earth is going on? Andrew? Viktor?”
Viktor shook the gun for effect. “These bullets are loaded with Michael Durand’s blood, the most lethal blood in existence. I am about to execute the leader of the Nightshade League, Elise.”
Oh no, you’re not, you asshole.
“Sir,” said one of the burly vampires. He angled his phone to show Viktor. “You should see this.”
“Shut up.” Viktor chambered a round.
Time went into super slow mode for her as Viktor took aim at Andrew. She stepped in front of Andrew just as Viktor pulled the trigger. The momentum of the bullet striking her chest slammed her into Andrew, sending him toppling over the low parapet around the edge of the roof.
She imagined him broken at the bottom. Maybe the snow was deep enough to cushion his fall, given this was only three stories up.
Holy hell, her chest burned as she struggled to
her knees.
Viktor cackled in her peripheral vision.
She couldn’t breathe. Werewolf blood directly into her chest… She was going to die.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Everyone to the car,” Blay ordered. Wolves moved as if someone pressed the fast forward button on the remote.
Hands wrapped Michael in a blanket, supported him, and caught him when he wobbled. Friendlies, he reminded himself when he flinched and instinctually prepared to fight.
“Chill,” Karlos uttered low, supporting Michael’s left side. “We’ve got to leave now.”
“Where is she?” he rasped, surprised to discover his voice so raw.
“Shh. The car. Now,” Karlos said low. “Vamps are everywhere and likely have cameras. We’re all struggling not to lose it over the smell.”
The “smell” was his stench. The odor of torture—blood, sweat, and fortitude. Nothing triggered a wolf to go into a crazy need to fight the enemy faster than the smell of a comrade freshly tortured, especially a wolf with extensive battle experience.
As Karlos pushed him into the backseat of an SUV and smashed in beside him, Michael said, “They got nothing from me.” His lips curled into what probably came off as an utterly psychotic grin. “Not one fucking iota of information.”
Karlos chuckled respect. “Didn’t expect anything less.”
“Drive,” Blay ordered. The driver, a less familiar wolf to Michael, put the already-running vehicle in gear.
The SUV bumped over uneven roads behind a twin SUV, jarring Michael’s mind with each pothole, until the road smoothed out.
He asked, “Why are you here, Blay? You never leave your place.”
Blay craned around from the passenger seat. “Because it’s you.”
“And…?”
Blay faced forward again and added quietly, “She asked me to be sure you got out. I wasn’t about to muck up your rescue by not being there.”
Karlos’s iPad dinged. “Drone shows the vamps on the periphery cleared out when the sunrise hit full morning light five minutes ago.” He typed for a few seconds. “Satellites show their vehicles are ahead of us moving away. Take the left ahead. They went right. They’re moving fast. Very fast.”
“Guess Viktor wanted the leader of Nightshade badly enough not to screw us,” Blay muttered. “He never ceases to surprise me. In fact, he doesn’t. Pull the car over.”
The car hit the curb.
“Everyone out.” Blay hopped out. “Look for tracking devices and explosives.” He scooped a hand under Michael’s shoulder when he swayed outside the car and whispered, “Something’s not right.”
The other SUV ahead of them pulled over and went through the same routine. A thin, bedraggled female vampire was helped out of the vehicle. She observed Michael from the distance and didn’t stop watching him while the vehicles were searched.
“Fuckers,” Karlos muttered, crawling out from under the car with a small device. “Found a bomb. I don’t know how they planted it. Someone must have an invisibility talent.” He examined it on the ground for a moment then cut two wires. “Sloppy craftsmanship.”
Karlos jogged to the other vehicle and did the same with another device.
“Everyone back in the car,” Blay ordered.
They rode in silence for long minutes, each contemplating consequences if the bombs hadn’t been found. He didn’t waste time on what-ifs. He’d already accepted his death over and over during the past day, or maybe it’d been two days. Time ran together and seemed endless in a dark room when pain and the dullness of silver toxicity ruled.
“Are you suffering from silver still?” Blay asked.
He wobbled his head. “I’m good. Weak from drug.”
“Hold out your arm,” Blay ordered as he held out a syringe full of murky brown material. Most knew Blay’s scientists had developed the cure to silver toxicity. They’d done their best during the war to distribute the antidote.
“I don’t need it. Serious, this isn’t about silver.” He pulled his arm tight to his body.
“You always were oddly tolerant.” Blay put the syringe away and resumed facing forward.
He massaged his forehead. The pain in his frontal lobe signaled dehydration.
As if on cue, Karlos handed him a bottled water.
“Where’s Kiera?” He drank and waited for his answer.
Blay scrolled through his phone. But didn’t answer. That meant he didn’t want to.
No one else piped up to answer.
“Where the hell is she?” Don’t tell me she’s dead. He expected when he’d been packed up and driven for hours to the middle of nowhere that there’d be an exchange, at least a glimpse of her in the process. He’d readied himself for a fight to save her. Her not at the exchange, although probably a smart move, disappointed him.
“He plans to kill her using my blood. To put it in a bullet. He demo-ed it by shooting his own wife right in front of me when he found out she betrayed him to the Nightshade League.”
Blay muttered, “Soulless motherfucker. I always thought Anita brought some class to the DiFalco family.”
Karlos scratched a hand through his hair. “The exchanges happened at a different location from where she is.”
“Where is she right now?” His body ached, even though he sensed it healing. He shifted in the narrow space in the backseat. His left shoulder was sore, not from the spikes. Whatever Isaac had done took all pain away from that. After his little visit, there’d been another torture fest when vampires attempted to get information and failed. He wished to pretend, at least for the moment, they hadn’t dislocated the joint and he hadn’t been forced to slam it into the concrete floor to replace it.
“Somewhere in southern France,” Karlos replied.
“Where are we?” He squinted at the sparse winter landscape searching for anything to provide location. A sign came into view. The language…aw, crap. German.
“Nowhere near there.” Karlos threw his head against the headrest. “We can’t get there. The meeting points were meant to keep us apart.”
To keep me away.
He’d failed to protect her.
“Call her. Get her on the phone.” He ground his teeth, jaw tight and eyes narrowed on Blay. “Stop her.”
“It’s too late.” Blay fiddled with the buttons on his phone. “Whatever’s going on at her end is out of our control. She’d never be careless enough to take her phone with her.” He cleared his throat and said hoarsely, “Vee is going to kill me for arranging Kiera to surrender herself in exchange for your freedom. We got Carol back, which is something, but…”
“Then why’d you go along with this?” he yelled, unable to stop himself.
“She said she had a plan.”
“You should’ve let me die. Not let her…” His head pounded so hard with anxiety and failure that everything around him sank into darkness. He buried his face in his hands.
“Open this.” Blay removed an orange oversize envelope from the glove box and handed it to him.
“What is it?” He took it reflexively but dreaded its contents.
“Delivered this morning. She instructed I give it to you.”
He took out a thick legal-sized binder. It contained a deed to the land of the mountain where his tree had been destroyed. He stared at the outline of the purchased property, shocked. It wasn’t only the mountain behind his house, but also included the other side of it and property stretching for thousands of acres. This was too much, and yet it was everything. This map of land he’d been forced to sell to make ends meet and new land he’d never explored was now his. He couldn’t conceive what she’d done to pull this off or how much she’d spent. This took longer than twenty-four hours.
The sheet of paper beneath the map had bank account information in his name with a deposited amount so high that
he read it once, then twice. He’d never seen a balance that high in his entire lifetime.
He couldn’t accept this gift.
An envelope at the very bottom contained a folded piece of paper. A letter.
Dear Michael,
You will accept my gift. You need this. Your people need this because they need you. Do not misinterpret. This is not about your people. This is meant for you and only you so that you never again need watch someone destroy that which you treasure. Plant a new tree. Plant a thousand. Teach Grace the beauty of nurturing life. Watch them both grow. They need love as do you. Let yourself feel. It is your greatest strength, not weakness. It is a reason, the reason. It is my reason.
Survive this moment, for it is but a moment in your life. I may or may not be here tomorrow, but I will ensure the viper ends up where he belongs. Change is coming.
Vita tua,
Kiera
Michael folded the letter. Snowdrifts lined the road obscuring its edges.
Vita tua.
Life for yours.
His eyes burned with moisture, but no tears fell. This land on paper, the guys in this car, his people…this was his life. It was freedom. It wasn’t a life with her.
She was…fuck, he’d admit it to himself. He loved her. And he let her go. The letting go part might’ve been beyond his control.
He’d never hear her moan his name or beg for more when deep inside her. Never bite her shoulder, deep and permanent.
Each breath, the air filling his lungs got smaller and smaller. His chest constricted, and a light sheen of sweat coated his forehead. There was no “letting go” of her. She was a part of his soul.
Maybe she did have a plan, even if he’d failed her. Hell, he wasn’t worthy of her. He said, “If he shoots her, there’s a cranky druid two steps behind her who will kick some vampire ass.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Elise…” Viktor’s tone might be laced with concern, but he didn’t move toward her.