Page 95 of Claimed By Blood

But I know what he’s thinking. I’ve already had the same idea and discarded it because it won’t work.

Samuel is Cain’s son. Nothing we can say or do will get him to spill his secrets if he decides he’s keeping them.

Which means the only way out of this is to save the ungrateful son of a bitch.

“Someone get Samuel out of here,” I growl, directing my anger into my next strike, which takes the head of a snarling vampire. “It appears the plans have changed.”

I sink my fangs into the throat of my next attacker, gulping a mouthful of potent—but bland—lycan blood before using the hold to rip out their throat. My chin is dripping scarlet, but I don’t pay any attention to that as I take a breath and catalogue Armin’s weaknesses.

Which are really just Bella’s weaknesses.

Lazy footwork. Weak on parries aimed below the waist.

One. Two…

I slide between his legs and kick his knee with all the strength I possess.

His bones shatter, and he falls backwards, but he’s old enough to anticipate the blow to his upper body, which he parries. No matter. I’ve managed to put myself between him and Bakari.

I shove Samuel’s idiot son farther out of the way as Armin is forced to sink his fangs indiscriminately into the vampires battling in the crowd, drinking until he can put even a fraction of his weight on his knee.

“Ah, the traitorous prodigy has come to save the Neanderthal. How sweet.”

“You know you’re outmatched,” I say, keeping my tone even as I block his next blow and the one after that. “So let us leave.”

“Outmatched by a weakling woman who spent the last two centuries locked away in silver?” Armin scoffs, putting a little more weight on his leg. “That’s right, Evelyn. Your sire told me exactly what’s waiting for you when I deliver you back to him. He wanted to put you back in the same hole, but I suggested the bottom of an ocean trench instead. I can’t wait to see what’s left of you after a few centuries of drowning.”

From my earpiece, six matching growls echo in response to his words, but I’m not listening. I’m not some young blood, to be easily distracted by words.

He gets in a blow to my shoulder, but it’s only shallow. Still, the scent of my blood, potent and strong, seems to affect him, and his pupils dilate. Smiling, because the distraction will only make him sloppy, I feint another strike before catching my ankle behind his supporting leg.

Armin slams back onto the ground. Hard.

His head hits the floor with an audible and satisfying crack.

One more blow to sever his spine, and he’s done. I move towards him, only to freeze.

In his hand is something I recognise from my research. A grenade. The modern ones are a far cry from what humanity was using when I went into the coffin. These new explosives can blast through metal.

Armin smirks as he hooks his finger through the key, and my gut sinks.

No. He’s bluffing. He won’t do it. He’ll bring the entire place down.

“By the time we crawl out of here, Cain’s reinforcements will have arrived.” He grins maniacally, exposing bloody teeth. “That’s right.” He taps his own earpiece. “Your daddy knows you’re here. He’s seen all of this, and he’s going to pull me from the rubble and raise me up above every other general. Above all of the traitorous scheming bitches he calls daughters.”

In slow motion, I watch as he yanks out the pin and releases the strike lever. My first step towards him is too late, but I keep going.

I’m old enough I might survive if I can just put my body between it and the rest of the—

A hand grabs my waist and shoves me out of the way, just as a second pair of fur-covered arms band around my waist, keeping me immobile. I watch, frozen with horror, as Bakari lands on top of Armin and the two wrestle.

Bakari is still on top when an explosion rocks the room. His body jerks, absorbing most of the impact, but he can’t mute the grenade’s effects entirely. Shrapnel and dust fly out, making it impossible to see, and the cave—already damaged by Armin’s antics earlier—shudders.

Groans.

Trembles start beneath my feet, and I realise what’s coming as a broken scream rings in my ears. It takes me a second to realise that it’s Noha’s scream, echoing through my ear piece.

The hands around my waist drag me backwards just as the back of the room starts to crumble. Vane tosses me over his shoulder and moves at immortal speed, but there are so many people in the way still fighting, oblivious—or uncaring—about the danger they’re in.

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