Page 93 of Claimed By Blood

I try to dodge out of the way of his outraged counter strike, but everyone is too close. I back into Immy and can’t go any further. My attacker’s blade rakes a line across my thigh.

The pack’s protective bubble is literally going to get me killed.

With a huff of frustration, I duck down and strike up, forcing my sword through the underside of his jaw and kicking him back to create my exit.

Finally free of the stifling circle of thralls, I weave and duck into the room, killing and striking at random.

And it feelsgood.

This is what I was made for. Not running. Not games of cloak and dagger.

Bloodshed. War.

Death.

I have always been a warrior. This is where I belong.

“Evie,”Finn whispers, sounding more than a little awestruck.

I must have gotten farther from the pack than I thought, because Frost’s voice echoes from my earpiece as well.“Where the fuck is she?”he demands.“We can’t protect—”

Finn whistles low and soft in my ear.“She doesn’t need it. Believe me.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I spy a familiar face.

Bakari stands over his father, brandishing a silver spear which he uses to keep everyone back. His mouth is stained with blood, and it’s not hard to assume that he’s been draining the corpses around him to enable him to keep fighting.

“Found them. East corner,” I mutter, stabbing my claws into a lycan’s face and ripping the bottom of her jaw off without looking away from my nephew.

I manage to make eye-contact with Bakari, and he stops twirling the spear just long enough for me to slip past. I check his injuries with a critical eye and determine that he’s healed enough to keep fighting, before turning my attention to Samuel.

His chest is wide open and unrecognisable. A mess of flesh, bone and burns. He must’ve taken a grenade to the chest—given how bad the damage is. His eyes are swivelling in their sockets, not focusing on anything, and his pupils have shrunk until they’re two pinpricks in the centre of his eyes. At least his heart is still beating—even though the rhythm is slow and stuttering.

He’s not dead yet.

“You need to cover me,” I say, dragging back my sleeve to expose my wrist. “I’ll give him my blood. It will give him enough mobility to get out of here.”

The alternative is carrying him, and given the ferocity of the battle around us, that will never work. Samuel needs to be able to walk.

My fangs sink into my own wrist, and I let the blood drip into his open mouth freely. He gulps it down straight away, and soon his burned arms come up to hold my wrist.

Thankfully, everyone around us is too busy fighting for their lives to notice one man’s chest knit itself back together. I tug my wrist away before I start to get dizzy. Samuel still has a wound, but it’s surface level.

Survivable. With his age, it’ll be healed by tomorrow.

“Evonnia,” he gasps, eyes finally focusing on me. “You must leave.”

“Working on it,” I retort, tugging him up. “We’re leaving together.”

“Where is Noha?”

“Back at the van,” I reply, not willing to get into it just now. “Get your son. We’re leaving.”

“My men—”

I pin him with a level stare. “You know the mission is you and you alone. Don’t make me fight you on this. Be thankful we’re taking Bakari with us.”

“Head for the door,”Frost orders.“We’ll cover you.”

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