Lawrence wraps his hand around my throat for the second time. “He will be eager to find out what this pretty little Iris is. She doesn’t even know.”

I purse my lips. “Why do you keep calling me that? My name is—” He cuts off my words with a squeeze of his hand, and I thrash about, trying to stomp on his feet.

Lawrence sniffs my shoulder. “If nothing else, she will make a tasty meal.”

I stiffen. They were going to eat me? I think I preferred being an alien.

“You and me both, sweetheart,” Duncan mutters under his breath. He pulls a knife out of each pocket, the moonlight glinting off the sharp blades as he palms them. I frown.Did I say that out loud?

Duncan circles us like a lion deciding on its best direction for a kill.

Lawrence pivots, using me as a shield. Halfway around, I spot Eve lying still on the floor. Glazed hazel eyes stare at me, unblinking. Her temples have been crushed, resulting in a surreal-looking skull, like a deflated doll.

My hand flies to my mouth to stop the scream on the tip of my tongue. Focusing on Duncan, I push down my panic and force myself to breathe evenly. After two rotations, my suppressed terror has morphed into rage.

My heart pounds in my ears. Before I can lose my nerve, I lean back into Lawrence’s body and wrap my hands around his neck. Tipping my head back, I try not to flinch when he smiles, his black, gleaming fangs elongating. He arches an eyebrow and tightens his hold on my waist, pulling me closer.

I lock my hands behind his head and give Duncan a surreptitious glance, hoping he can read my intent; otherwise, this net is about to get very claustrophobic.

Bending my back, I use my body to toss Lawrence over my shoulder.

The net vanishes, and he crashes against the wall. I blink. I’m not that strong… must be the adrenaline.

Lawrence springs to his feet, scooping up the gun I dropped earlier. A belligerent grin accompanies his obsidian eyes.

Three events happen at once; a thunderousbangreverberates around the room, perforating my eardrum, Duncan lifts his hands, and I instinctively jump in front of him.

Chapter Two

Natia

Tauruses have a winning mentality. They go into something with a do-or-die attitude, and giving up never crosses their minds.

Four years later.

Heavy rain obscures the abandoned warehouse as I squint through the windshield to analyze our surroundings. Dangerous possibilities lurk in the rain and shadows. The only working street light illuminates the front entrance to the warehouse with a neon orange glow.

“Where is he? Maybe we should issue department watches to our marks so they can turn up to their own demise on time,” I grumble.

Duncan glances up from the unusual leather-bound book written in some kind of hieroglyphs, which he has perched on the steering wheel next to the clock on the dashboard. As our resident language expert, I’m not sure there’s a language the guy can’t read. “It’s only been five minutes.”

“If you were five minutes late for a bus, you’d miss it. If you were five minutes late crossing the road, you might get hit by said bus. Besides, I have a date.”

Duncan scoffs then quickly stiffens as I shoot a glare his way. “Sorry… I was just…”

“Just what? Shocked that I could get a date?”

He scratches his chin. “Well, you are a bit… prickly.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I give him a playful shove.

He chuckles. “Really, though—who is it?”

I give him a wink. “The Real Housewives.”

He snorts. “I see your priorities are in order.”

We fall into companionable silence, each of us tracking any small movements. This particular demon is skilled in causing doubt and was being strategically placed in juries to ensure certain clients would be found innocent. We are luring him to the warehouse under the pretense of hiring him on behalf of a sports star who crashed his car into a house while high on drugs.