Her mate.
Taken.
Murdered at the hands of supposed innocence.
My heart hardened in that very instant, rock solid…cold.
“Another one.” Vivian pointed. “Com male to the right.”
I watched as he came straight for the window. He didn’t see me as he walked. He didn’t see me as he started to lift himself inside the room. Nor did he see me as I shot him dead.
Four Coms came directly after, doubtlessly from seeing the Com male drop. They all went down. There were the beginnings of a decent body pile outside the window. I worried it would attract more.
It did.
The Coms were like freaking gnats. One right after another came to the window, trying to enter. They came to their death. Shape. Size. Race. Age. Sex. None of that mattered. Every single one of them fell by my hand.
“Perhaps I could grab one of those bodies and have a snack,” Vivian murmured.
“We already had this conversation,” I grumbled, firing off another shot. Direct hit. I really loved this gun. “You aren’t moving a muscle.”
“I was kidding. Safe. I like safe, and you’re an excellent shot, so you’re safe,” she muttered. A pause. “How long has Ezra been gone now?”
A quick glance at the clock, which was miraculously still attached to the wall. “Thirteen minutes, give or take a few.” It had only been fifteen since the first explosion had gone off. “I’m sure he’s fine.” He had better be, or I was going to kill Antonio. “And you know your mate’s fine.” She was still coherent.
Firing, I shot a Com man, who looked like he was near a hundred, as he struggled to move through the dead bodies, his destination the window. How the hell had he survived these last fifteen minutes? It was crazy.
She snorted. “Cahal doesn’t die. He may get hurt, but that man just keeps on ticking.” She sounded proud. It was so odd having this conversation right now. Especially when the woman had barely talked to me so far today. I was beginning to think she was really terrified, and conversing sanely was how she dealt with a life-or-death situation. “You think this room’s spelled? It stayed intact when the rest of the ceilings around us went down.”
I do believe I was right. “Who knows?” Who cares? Anyone else would have just been grateful it was still intact, but she was making herself think things through rationally to keep her mind off the situation.
“What do you suppose is in this book?” she asked.
“No clue, but unless you want to die-by-spell, I would suggest—”
“Safe, remember?” she interrupted. “I was just wondering if you’d ever seen it before, since he raised you.”
“Never saw it before today,” I muttered, but a second later I wondered at the truth of my statement. Antonio had always had tons of books. He liked to read a lot, but kept them under lock-and-spell, never letting me even hold one.
“How long’s it been now?” she asked.
“Two minutes since the last—” I stopped cold when Antonio and Ezra reappeared in the same spot they had left. Gasping, I crawled quickly — staying low — over to Ezra. I screamed at Antonio, “You let him get hurt!”
Ezra was panting and bending over with his hands on his knees…covered in blood.
I had no clue where his injuries were, but they had to be extensive. Rising on my knees and cupping his bloody cheeks, I scanned his wide eyes. He looked like he was in shock. My grip tightened on his face as rage and fear warred inside me. Trembling furiously, my brutally glowing gaze swung to Antonio, who was fucking spotless, and I shouted feverishly, “You aren’t taking him anywhere else. Never-fucking-again!”
Gasping, breathless, Ezra huffed, “Sweetheart…” Bloody hands lifted off his knees, and he cupped my own cheeks, bringing my face back to his. “I’m not hurt. I’m okay.”
My eyes darted over his body, since I couldn’t move my head inside his hold, before gazing back into his eyes, and with an emotional, shaking voice, I explained softly, “Ezra, you’re in shock. Sit down. I can’t tell where you’re bleeding from. I need to look you over.” My eyes were tearing up, and I blinked hard, determined to stay strong. If he was shot with silver in too many places, or even in just the right place…
“I’m not hurt,” he whispered, still trying to catch his breath, bringing his bloody face closer. “The blood’s not mine. It’s from those things I killed.” He peered up at Antonio, who was standing there calmly, aiming my gun, which I must have dropped at some point, at the window. “What were they?”