Page 1 of Marked Resistance

SEASON TWO

Chapter One

Zenobia Bell

His name came up on the communique.

Dillon Coyer.

And the hunt was on. Our role wasn’t to question the assignments but to carry them out. If Command sent it, we followed it.

Simple.

Clean.

Nothing more and nothing less. Duty above love, above family. Dillon deserted his duty, which made him the enemy. And in war, there are only two sides—the allies, and the enemy.

“This fucker’s a tough one,” Tack remarked.

“Keep your eyes up,” Kristopher scolded.

Kristopher aimed his comment at Tack, but I nodded in response and fingered the small lighter in my hand. The cool, hardness of the metal always settled me, serving as a reminder of the steadiness I had to maintain to keep control.

Tack was tall with tan skin, and a rebellious feel about him. His meaningful, thin, dark eyes, angular eyebrows, and round chin, with shoulder-length, curly, dark brown hair made him very attractive. Coupled with a long neck, and strong legs, I quietly wondered how strong his pelvic thrusts would be.

Kristopher’s height mirrored Tack’s. With orange skin, stern, narrow, black eyes, small ears, and smooth cheeks, he exuded authority. His medium-length, straight, grey hair, thick neck, bulky torso with defined chest muscles, strong arms, and strong hands left women panting. Or so I’d been told.

I never crossed the line with my fellow Fang members. We relied too much on each other for survival. Personal relationships and sexual trysts were the gateway to demise and offered no respite from our duties.

We’d tracked Dillon to the edge of Kepjess, one of the largest remaining cities in Shaye territory. A port city on the western border, Kepjess held immeasurable value to our clan. A population of roughly nineteen thousand men, women, children, and vampires lived here. The farmland to the east supplied the humans with food, carried up and down the territories by the ships who docked and replenished before resuming their routes on the Assirac ocean. Dillon hoped to get lost among the masses until he could board a ship and disappear at sea.

“We find his ass before that happens,” Kristopher told us during the debrief.

Shaye’s collapse could come at any moment. Once the strongest clan in the world, Clan Shaye now lay on the brink of extermination. Under Governor Duradel’s leadership, brother turned against sister, and Warriors killed one another in an effort to escape. Or as punishment for abandoning their posts.

“I’m saying,” Tack continued. “It was smart of him to come here. It’s a good plan.”

“Wasa good plan,” Kristopher corrected. “He didn’t bet on us. Now, let’s go.”

Yes, he did,I thought.Why do you think he chose this place?

We entered the Jordan Hills apartments in the Long Gate neighborhood. Only a stone’s throw away from the harbor, the three of us stood between Dillon and his freedom.

Kristopher looked each of us in the eye before he spoke. “Remember, if he gets by us, he gets away. Under no circumstances can we let it happen. Any Shaye vampire willing to seek asylum with another clan is a Shaye vampire who must meet their final death. To turn your back on your clan like that is to turn your back on your family. Either Dillon dies today, or we do.”

Kristopher was a rock. His devotion and allegiance to the clan could never be questioned. I nodded at his leadership and flicked the lid to the lighter in my right hand. My left went over the hilt of Assurance.

“Let’s get this fucker,” Tack asserted.

A marvel of construction, the Jordan Hills Apartments pierced the sky. With a multitude of floors, a systematic search would have to be conducted to locate Dillon. Using hand gestures, Kristopher signaled for me to ascend using the right-side stairs and Tack would go to the left. Kristopher had the elevators. I nodded at Tack, and he mouthed the words “be careful,” before he placed a piece of gum in his mouth and opened the door to his stairwell. Kristopher pushed the button to the elevator and I opened my door and went through.

With an open lid and thumb on the ignition button, I checked behind the door and the corners of the stairwell before scanning upward. Everywhere I looked, I pointed my lighter in the same direction. Cold and gray, the narrowness of the stairwell screamed at me to turn back.

I emptied my lungs and climbed.

The second-floor metal door groaned as I opened it and I wheeled my hands across my body from left to right to check the corners. Crouched outside the elevator doors, Kristopher tilted his head to the right and I followed the motion. Tack had emerged from his door completing our deathly silent triangle.

Each floor contained three apartments. Apartment A belonged to me. Kristopher would tackle Apartment B, and C belonged to Tack. Under the authority of Governor Duradel, clan Shaye’s leader and strongest living vampire, we simultaneously stormed the apartments in a coordinated effort.

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