Page 47 of The Wayward Sons & The Vampires of Fortune
Fuck.
“Do you have the gun?” Sam whispered in my ear.
The clicking stopped, and we both froze.
Fuck.
My heart beat so fast in my chest that I was certain the vampire could hear it.
“Yeah.” I barely had a chance to answer before a horrible screech filled the small garage.
It rounded the corner fast, the white bone of its face a stark contrast to the dark.
Sam shoved me to the side and exploded in a vibrant array of golden light, flooding the place with its brightness.
He attacked the vampire, I drew my gun.
Ready, aim…
All I needed was one good opening— a fucking long shot, considering the tiny target I had to hit.
He punched, blocked, and stepped back.
The vampire followed, matching blow for blow.
Inhale…
Exhale…
My heart was in my throat as I tracked every single movement—every punch, every sound, every kick.
Find my calm…
I couldn’t take the shot if I lost it.
As Sam lashed out, the vampire latched onto his wrist and yanked him in. Fangs buried into his forearm.
Without hesitating, I fired. The bullet wouldn’t do a damn thing, but it did catch the vampire in the side of the skull and forced it to detach from him. Sam took the chance to drag it close enough to lock an arm around the vampire’s neck.
“Shoot it!” Sam shouted, his voice tight as he grappled with the vampire to hold it in place. I tried to get a good shot, but there was no way in hell I’d be able to do so and guarantee the bullet didn’t go through it and kill him.
“I’m not shooting you,” I told him, keeping the target in sight.
“Follow the fucking vampire, Ryder!” he ordered. “Three… two…one!”
He shoved the struggling vampire to the side. The second he was out of range, I emptied my gun into the vampire’s face. Was it overkill? Absolutely. But I didn’t care.Better safe than sorry.
The vampire seized, fracturing and turning to dust.
“Son of a bitch!” Sam panicked, the feeling sucker-punching me in the gut. He fumbled and yanked on his belt to get it off. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
“How bad is—”
“It fucking bit me!” he exclaimed. Vampires—among everything else horrible about them—were venomous to hunters.Not that any ever survived being bitten.Slipping the gun in my waistband, I hurried forward to help. I grabbed the belt from him and tightened it around his bicep.
“Do not let that bite go above your heart,” I ordered. The words were barely out of my mouth before he stumbled. I tried to help him, but he pushed me away.
He waved toward the car door as he grabbed the hood for support.
