Page 130 of Delinquents Turned Fugitives
I lifted my hand and blasted the hallway with shadows, all the way from where we stood at the bottom of the stairwell to the other side of the building. It was blacker than a blink of the eye, dark and thick as paint.
I heard the metallicclangof a knife hitting the ground, agurgleandspurtthat sounded like a water fountain—sounded like, but wasn’t.
When I lifted my shadows, Claude had disappeared.
Muller was dead on the floor, a puddle of his own blood forming underneath him as his eyes stared unseeing at Callum’s feet.
My ally’s eyes met mine.
And somehow I thought he knew.
It felt like he knew my mind, knew what I’d realized … and what I’d chosen.
“Let’s get your brother,” he said, turning toward the steps.
“But the others …” I trailed off as thewhirrof a helicopter overhead drifted in through the broken front door.
“No time,” Callum responded.
He hurried up the steps, barking at his vamps to hold still as he used his claws to slice through the rope that bound them. It still remained melded to their hair and faces, it still matted Evan’s fur, but once everyone was at least separated, we turned and went up the steps to the second floor. I had to walk carefully on the icy floor, around the frozen bumps and masses that used to be Pinnacle guards. One man had gotten his head free, but his face was blue … he hadn’t been fast enough to free his heart. Most of the others had hardly made a dent in their icy prisons before they’d succumbed to the elements.
I tried not to look.
When we got to Matthew’s door, tears filled my eyes.
Because we’d finally made it.
