Page 123 of Shadowed Steel (Heirs of Chicagoland 3)

He stared at me through locked blades, teeth gritted against the combined force of me and the monster he didn’t know existed.

“You smell like wolf,” he said. “Do you think that makes you special? Whoring yourself to a shifter?”

“None of us are special, Clive. We’re all just vampires.”

“You don’t really believe that.”

I stepped back, let my blade fall. This point, if no other, had to be made. “I absolutely believe that.”

Thinking I’d conceded, he stepped forward. I spun around him, kicked the back of his knee. Too surprised to catch himself, Clive hit the ground, sword skittering away. What hadn’t worked on Levi, ironically, worked on his brother. About damned time.

And then the tip of my katana was at his neck.

Clive went still—supernaturally still—but his eyes shifted, rose along the blade until they met mine.

“Yield,” I said, lips curled in predatory victory.

His eyes went wide, then narrowed. “Are you too scared to kill me?”

“You are an idiot,” I said quietly. “I’m not going to kill you. Not when I’ve got you on the ground.” I leaned down, just a little. “I beat you. And that’s more than enough for me.”

He opened his mouth for more invective, and I pressed the blade harder, just enough to have a line of crimson appearing at his throat.

I could see it in his eyes. He may not have wanted to die, but he didn’t want to yield, either. Didn’t want to admit defeat, suffer the humiliation of it.

“Yield,” I said again, utterly calm. His eyes wheeled, looking for escape, considering options.

“Last chance,” I said.

“Fine,” he threw out, like a verbal strike. “I fucking yield. But the AAM isn’t done with you.”

“Oh, it’s done,” Nicole said, stepping forward. “And it’s done with you, as well.”

I stepped back, sword still pointed, while Nicole and her vampires rushed forward. They lifted Clive to his feet.

Then she moved closer, the scent of peaches and tingle of magic lifting in the air. And she looked at me in silence for what felt like a very long time.

“I am not entirely sure what you are, Ms. Sullivan,” she said quietly, so that only I could hear. “But you have acted honorably, even when others have not. I find that is a good test of character. To be absolutely clear,” she called out, pinning Clive with a glare, “this matter has been concluded, and the AAM has no further questions of Elisa Sullivan respecting the making of the human known as Carlie Stone.”

“Damn right you don’t!”

We all froze. I knew that voice. I knew that tone. I looked back, and found Carlie on the edge of the crowd.

There actuallywasa party on the House’s lawn. But it wasn’t strangers or friends of the House. It was Roger Yuen. My parents. Uncle Malik. To my surprise, Gabriel Keene and four more shifters. And, to my utter shock, Ronan, and four more vampires who I guessed were from his coven.

They’d come here... for me? To side with me, and stand by me, because they believed I’d done right, or that the result made up for my rule breaking.

My throat tightened with emotion, and I was perilously close to tears.

“We’re done,” I managed to say to Nicole, then left her behind, strode toward Carlie.

She’d... blossomed. There was no other word for it. Vampirism had a way of honing features down to their most beautiful renderings, and she was no exception. Pale skin, long dark hair, and a wide smile that was instantly endearing. Every feature enhanced just enough to make it difficult to look away.

I hope she considered becoming a stronger version of herself atleast some payment for the pain she’d have suffered during the transition.

“Hi,” I said, feeling suddenly awkward. But her smile was brilliant.

“Hi!” Without hesitation, she wrapped me in a hug, squeezed tightly. “How are you?”

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