Page 54 of Vows in Violence

“You are employing World War II tactics?”Shit. Maybe Angel did grow on me more than I realized.

We positioned ourselves far enough away from the greenhouse that no one inside would notice us but close enough to see the front entrance. The plan is to give the first team a decent length of time before we follow.

As we wait, Evie moves next to me. I feel her settle, her presence steady and somehow comforting in a way.

"My sister-in-law is a bit obsessed with your wife," she says, not looking at me, her gaze fixed on the greenhouse.

"I’ve noticed," I reply, keeping my tone neutral.

"If Rowan is fond of your wife, then I am, too. For Rowan’s sake."

I glance at her, sensing an undercurrent in her words. "I feel a threat developing."

Evie’s eyes flicker towards me briefly before returning to the greenhouse. "You’d better be a good man to her, Romanov. If not…well, you can call me Cú Chulainn."

"And what’s that?" I ask, genuinely curious despite the tension thickening the air.

"An Irish hero who slays monsters," Evie clarifies.

I chuckle. The girl has spunk; I've known this about her for a while. She picked an odd time for this littletête-à-tête, but I'm willing to bite.

"The Five Families have hurt her in more ways than I ever could. You should be slaying yourself," I say, a hint of irony in my voice. Her mouth forms a straight line, and I wait for some smart-ass answer, but we don’t get to whisper another word.

Gunfire shatters the night’s silence. My body reacts before my mind can catch up, my own weapon coming up and ready. Shots fire again. It’s coming from the direction of where I left the car and several men to guard my wife.

The car. Vivi. I have to get to Vivi.

Someone grabs my shoulder—the one with the knife wound—and the pain nearly blinds me. I push them away, not caring who it is, and I keep going.

The same refrain echoes in my head in time with the pulse of blood in my veins.

Gunfire. Vivi. Have to get to Vivi.

Movement erupts in the shadows around us. They have been watching us. I hear Cassidy bellowing, shadows morphing into living people with weapons. But I don’t turn back to the others. I need to find my wife.

I sprint across the street, the sound of voices bouncing off the buildings and making it hard to tell where they’re coming from. Then, there, in front of the greenhouse, I see people struggling on the ground.

Three people. One breaks loose—Vivi. Thank God. She runs toward the greenhouse.

That leaves Eduardo struggling with a woman. I remove my pistol, but with the way he and the woman are moving, there's no clear shot. I slide my gun back into place as I sprint toward them, pushing my legs as fast as they are willing to go. I watch, horror seizing me as Eduardo frees himself and runs to open the door for Vivi. He flings it open and then shuts it, realizing he doesn’t have time to get inside.

I pump my arms and run harder, but there’s nothing I can do for Eduardo. As I approach, I bear witness to the woman stabbing him in the back, the blade flashing in the dim light over and over as he stands against the door he just shoved Vivi through.

“God, no—”

By the time I reach the door, Eduardo's body is already slumped on the ground. The woman who just ended him spins toward me at my shout, clearly another of Azrael’s cursed assassins. It’s the woman from the church, her blonde hair shining in the streetlights. My gaze flickers to Eduardo, whose eyes have already gone flat and empty, and then back to the woman.

She tosses the knife from hand to hand, taunting me with both her skill and her kill. This time, she’s not restricted by a cramped apartment. She’ll be fast, with room to move.

That’s okay. I have room as well, and I’ve always appreciated a good blade.

She strikes, and I deflect with my forearm, the blade scraping down my skin. The pain is sharp, but I focus. With her so close, I grab her knife arm and pull her toward me, forcing her to step closer. I raise my fist and aim for her jaw, but she bends backward, her flexible body making it hard to connect, my fist barely grazing her face.

She twists away, now standing across from me. She’s more wary this time, eyes darting over my body, searching for an opening. Her gaze lands on my injured shoulder. She launches herself at me, but I anticipate her move. I grab her knife arm again, and she headbutts me. It dazes me, but I don’t let go.

I've never fought a woman like this, and her ability to match me shocks me. I don’t want to pull out my gun—she’s too fast. She’d grab it before I could even aim.

She screams and lunges again, trying to drive her knife past my raised arms. But then thunder cracks, and her steps falter. She takes a few stumbling steps before falling to her knees on the ground and then forward, face down on the unforgiving asphalt. Blood makes a slow and steady path like a halo around her head.

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