Page 103 of For Dear Life

“Fucking hell,” chokes Kai.

Throwing Kai to one side, I dash towards the stunned bear, who’s now staggering from side to side, shaking his head. The collapsed shelf blocks our way from the aisle to the exit and Viggo’s not visible at all beneath the chaos.

“Your ultimate aim, Violet Blackwood?” asks a smooth voice.

35

VIOLET

I whirl around, attempting to locate the witch who spoke, eyes immediately zoning in on the pool of blood where Rowan sat moments ago. Who set this up?

“You killed Viggo, and now you’re about to kill Kai, little necromancer. All with the help of your Ursa construct,” continues the mocking voice from somewhere in the warehouse.

Kai’s on his hands and knees, unable to get purchase as he slips in the Viggo’s blood on the shiny floor. “Is Viggo dead?” he shrieks. “Did you kill him?”

“Where are you, witch?” I snarl. Every sense is sharpened to finding him, and locating Rowan’s heartbeat, also aware how sluggish Viggo’s becomes. But what can I do?

“Rowan!” I shout and spin in a circle.

Kai manages to scramble to his feet and clambers over the barrier created by the fallen boxes and tins. He’s halfway up the fallen shelf when he swears again, turning to face me as he halts and points to the other side. “Who the fuck are they?”

I ignore how Kai flinches when I scramble after him and crouch on top of the boxes. The two witches—Grant Underhill and Adam Woodlake. My heart explodes, magic lashing my veins, and primal fury seizes hold as I spot Rowan on the ground beside them. Unmoving.

“What have you done?” I scream at them.

Did they injure him further? I’m on the first witch in half a breath, knees on Adam’s chest and claws at his face. Rowan’s blood scent fills the air and I pant heavily, every cell in my body wanting to strike, but deep in the heart of me I know I can’t. He’s the link to freeing Leif.

“I’ve got you!” I snarl. “If Rowan’s hurt, I’ll kill you but not tonight. Not yet.”

The second witch’s laugh cuts short as someone blurs down from a shelf above. Through my red-misted, hybrid vision, I witness a dark-haired vampire tear through Grant’s throat.

“Grayson!” I shout, claws still at Adam’s neck. “Not again!”

The vamp’s facing away, and he turns after dropping the witch to the floor.

Not Grayson.

Josef. “And now she’s killed a witch too,” he says.

Below me, Adam coughs a laugh. “Nice double-cross, Petrescu. But you’ve got the wrong guy.”

“I merely informed you that the Sawyer boy would be here tonight,” he purrs. “And presumed you’d follow. How fortuitous that Ms. Blackwood chose the same evening to break into my client’s factory and has interfered in your plans.”

Fortuitous? My stomach sickens. Grayson told Josef? No. Rowan suggested our visit.

As Josef steps towards me and the witch, I spring to my feet and swipe at Josef instead, protecting the witch that my vengeful side wanted to end. “Don’t touch anybody else!”

“Stop!” Adam holds his hands up, palms out. “You want her caught? No need to kill me. Grant’s death triggered her fate.”

“I didn’t kill him,” I snarl. “And I won’t kill you. I know all about your shifter ‘workers’ at the house. The necromancy. You murdered people and you’ll pay!”

“Won’t even kill as revenge for Rowan’s death?” asks Josef smoothly.

“Rowan isn’t dead,” I grit out.

“Yet.” Josef smirks. “You can only take on so many people at once, even as a hybrid.”

“Now that one of us has died, Oz’s memories will trigger,” says Adam, weakly. “Supe authorities will involve themselves in the investigation and see inside Oz’s mind. A very clear memory of what you did that night Wesley died, Violet. The construct you created. The influence on Leif to hide your crimes.”

---