Page 133 of Celestial Combat

The shots rang out, sharp and echoing.

Glass shattered. Screams broke out. Crowd scattered. Security lunged for the shooter.

Zane grabbed me hard and shoved me behind a marble column. His gun was already out, his eyes scanning the chaos.

“Stay behind me,” he growled.

I looked past him.

Tony was on the floor, leaning back on one arm. His white shirt was soaked in red near his abdomen, but his expression didn’t change. Calm. Like he hadn’t even noticed the pain. Kim was crouched next to him, pressing a napkin to the wound with steady hands.

Tony said something. Kim turned her head to him, slowly. Then she slapped him –hard. She pressed harder to his wound, making him wince.

I guessed they were okay then.

The attacker managed to slipping through the security. The collar of his shirt shifted, just enough.

Then I saw it.

A tattoo on his neck – coiled snake. Jaw open. Fangs bared.

Black fury erupted within me.

I didn’t think. I ran.

My heels pounded against the marble as I bolted after him, weaving through overturned chairs and broken glasses.

“Kali!” Zane’s voice behind me – sharp, angry – but fading.

He was following, but I was faster.

The cold hit me the second I shoved through the side doors.

The garden behind The DeMone was like something out of a winter painting – white, soft, and silent. Snow drifted down in steady flurries, coating the world in silence. Marble statues stood frozen in place, lined along the edges of the hedges. The fountains had turned to ice. The moonlight shimmered off the untouched snow, silver and perfect.

I saw him.

The attacker moved fast, breath clouding behind him. I kept going, heels sinking into the snow, heart thudding hard against my ribs.

He reached the stone gazebo – old, ornate, with flickering lanterns swaying in the wind – and turned like he sensed me.

Too late.

I lunged and tackled him straight into the snow.

He hit the ground hard with a grunt, but rolled fast, trying to shake me off. He didn’t expect me to be stronger. Faster. Meaner.

My elbow hit his jaw. His hand reached for his side, and I slammed my knee into his ribs. He cursed, swung at me, caught my shoulder. We flipped. Kicked. Jabbed. The snow churned around us like smoke, kicked up and scattered.

He was bigger. But he didn’t know me.

He pulled a knife from under his jacket, silver glint flashing.

I dodged left, grabbed his wrist, and slammed it – hard – against one of the stone pillars of the gazebo. The crunch echoed. The blade clattered to the ground.

He tried to crawl, but I straddled him, grabbed his coat, and shoved him back down into the snow.

His face was scraped, bleeding. His breath steamed in the cold air.

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