Page 123 of The Devil We Know

Within seconds, the masks are peeled off, revealing Matt, Tony, Declan, and Kaian. All four appear relieved to be themselves again.

I meet Matt’s gaze, my half-smile matching his for only a brief moment, and then we all turn and race after Antoinette and Camilla.

Kaian and Declan take off in one direction as I follow Matt and Tony along the large freighter, completely awed by how massive it is, even while scurrying like a fool. Matt motions between a stack of containers, and I take off down it, locating the ladder that’s rigged there and hurrying up it.

The containers are stacked six high, and though I’m not opposed to heights, running from bad people on top of stacks of metal has my nerves on edge.

The others join me as I carefully run across the tops of the containers, but then I slow as two people come into view on the stack across from us.

“Motherfuck,” Matt snarls from beside me, and I turn to him, my heart jackhammering in my chest. He frowns, cursing under his breath as he looks around, only to once again focus on the stack of containers across from us as two more bodies pop up.

Tony appears on my other side, cursing the same as Matt, and then he spits out, “This was not part of the fucking plan.”

“Everyone else set?” Matt asks, his eyes still watching the scene play out across the way.

“Yes,” Lilith answers from behind me. “Locked and loaded and ready for shipment. We just have to go in and get the stragglers.”

“We have to get over there.”

Tony shakes his head, a helpless expression on his face. “There’s no quick way. Can you get a shot?”

Matt shakes his head, then moves to the very edge of the container, looking down for a moment, and then back up to the edge of the other containers.

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” I mutter.

He raises his brows at me, shrugging as he goes to speak, but a shriek cuts him off.

I look back across the aisle. Camilla is now in hand-to-hand combat with someone we’re assuming is not our Darius. The man manages to shove her off, stepping in and kicking her square in the chest, sending her to the ground. She rolls onto her front as the man moves in on her, obviously intent on causing more harm, but then Antoinette is there.

He gives Camilla another solid kick, effectively knocking her out of the way where she lays there, stunned, then he turns on Antoinette.

The other Darius appears, drawing Antoinette’s attention away just long enough for the man to grab her, and he spins her so her back is pressed against his front.

She reaches back with both hands, scraping her nails down the man’s face without mercy, and within seconds, the intricate Darius mask gives way, revealing a haggard face twisted with fury.

Bloody welts rise on his cheeks and over his eyes as Antoinette continues to assault him, going completely wild in his hold. He manages to snag her wrist with one hand, but she hits him again with her free one, oblivious to the man reaching behind him.

He pulls a gun out, whirling it viciously, catching her in the side of the head, and she stops fighting. Blinking dazedly, she sways on her feet, and then she’s staring vacantly out half-closed eyes.

Darius shouts incoherently, his pained words taken by the wind, but I don’t have to hear him to know what he’s saying.

No. No. No.

Then he’s running, blindly racing toward the edge, where the man is standing next to Antoinette who is weaving precariously, an evil grin on his distorted face as he turns the gun toward Darius.

But Darius doesn’t slow.

He doesn’t pivot, parry, or even attempt to dodge the inevitable bullet that erupts from the barrel of the gun he’s staring down. He races straight as an arrow, taking the shortest path possible in the hopes of saving her.

Even knowing it’s coming, the crack of the shot still startles me. We’re all standing there in a row, too far away to intervene, the angle of our view too sharp to attempt to take him out as Darius bears down on him.

He lets off a couple more shots, but Darius keeps coming, a bellow of rage emitting from within him, echoing through the dock and sending a vibration of energy through all of us. I shiver in response.

The man smiles wider, dropping his empty weapon as he uses both hands to shove an almost limp Antoinette to the side. She teeters there, right on the edge of the containers, like a slow-motion ballet of gravity.

And then, she’s gone.

Darius doesn’t slow as he runs into the man head-on, his low rumble of rage a vibrato of fear that surrounds us as he sweeps him up, driving him over the edge with a scream.

---