Page 441 of Shadowblood Souls
Zian barrels into the courtyard, his bulky body moving impossibly fast for his size—at least, it’d be impossible if he were an ordinary human being. He crashes into the guard who pinned the briefcase, rolling both the man and the object over.
That’s Andreas’s cue. He’s supposed to run in there invisibly and snatch up the case.
But the other guards are drawing their guns. Zian jerks to the side just as shots boom.
My lungs constrict. Now?
Yes—now, before they hurt him. Before they?—
I snap my mouth shut, cutting off the scream. The previously cuffed man crumples with a wail as he cradles his smashed hand.
His security detail whirls around, drawing their own guns. Zian bolts for the parked limo to duck around it as shelter.
Bullets thunder after him. There’s no way Andreas could spring into the fray now, not without catching one of those projectiles in his invisible body.
The guard who grabbed the briefcase scoops it up and dashes for the building’s door, other men racing with him, a couple pursuing Zian. Zee stays low, running around the limo and then on toward the van.
My hand flies to the door. What if we’ve gone too far—what if they catch him or the rest of us before we can drive off?
Dominic can’t heal us now.
Is this how the job is going to end? Roaring off with bullets pelting after us, knowing nothing more than we did before?
My frustration surges, and I throw open the door. Only two men—I can take them without even a scream, guns or not.
I can say I leapt out to defend Zian, but if I can grab a badge or a name tag, anything with a logo or some information that would at least tell me who they might be working for or why they’re important… If I can buy Andreas enough time to paw through their memories…
Maybe all this effort will actually be worth it.
The men see me. One raises his gun to point it my way instead of at Zian’s retreating form.
As I lunge at him, I can’t tell if I even care whether he shoots me or not. At least I won’t have to worry about failing in all sorts of other ways if my journey ends here.
I collide with him, knocking his gun hand to the side. My clawed fingers scrape over his suit in search of a lump in a pocket that might be revealing.
Shouts blare from somewhere farther away. Footsteps smack the tiles in the courtyard.
I ram the man’s arm against the sidewalk and snarl at him. “Whoareyou?”
Somewhere not-that-distant, the safety clicks off a gun. Fuck them. Fuck all of them.
I need answers, or what’s the point of fighting to stay alive anyway?
The man stares up at me, uncomprehending. Then solid arms wrap around me from behind.
I stagger backward in a determined embrace I recognize as Drey’s. My limbs start to thrash out—he’s pulling me away from my goal, my only chance to make this moment worth something?—
His voice murmurs in my ear, low and ragged. “Please. Riva, please.”
The desperation of the plea unravels me. I sag in his grasp for long enough that his invisible form can haul me into the van, just as the next round of shots ring out.
“Go—go!” Zian shouts, and Jacob hits the gas.
As the van tears off down the road, Andreas wavers back into sight, his expression taut as he cups my face. A whiff of frightened pheromones tickles my nose, and a matching emotion shivers through our bond.
As if he’s more scared now, after we’ve raced away from the threat, than he was in the middle of it.
“Don’t do that again,” he says hoarsely. “That wasn’t—you didn’t need to?—”
