Page 522 of Fated to be Enemies

“Take him,” West orders, and Evan grabs him, disappearing in a whisp of smoke.

“Can he not heal like the rest of you?” I ask before the answer filters into my brain. Ian isn’t like his brother.

“No,” West answers, his jaw clenched tight. “Ian’s different. He can’t travel like us or heal as quickly, but he has our lifespan and our purpose. We think maybe his mother was human, but none of us know for sure.”

Rhys and I nod in understanding. It has happened with our species as well when they mate with humans. I can understand the appeal, but I have a serious issue with the logistics. There is no way to extend their human’s lifespan.

No spell.

No remedy.

Nothing to stave off the human condition.

“What about Aidan?” I ask. “Is he all right?”

“Not sure,” West replies with a shake of his head. “Won’t be sure until we get him in the med bay.”

“His breathing isn’t labored, he’s not bleeding from anywhere but his head, and that seems to be closing up. Let’s find Carver and Javi and then get the fuck out of here,” Rhys suggests. “You stay with him, Gorgeous. West and I’ll check upstairs real quick. Don’t move, got it?”

If it were any other time, I’d do something cute like flip him off, but all I can do is nod. The loft is small enough they won’t be gone too long. Readjusting the grip on my hatchets, I scan the landing and hallway for threats as the boys head upstairs.

As good as my ears are, I don’t hear him until he’s three feet from me. And as good as my sight is, I don’t see him at all. The monster of a man takes another step closer, as silent as the grave, the scent of death the only thing heralding his presence.

By the time I notice him, he’s already too close.

“I knew they’d leave you alone eventually,” Javier says with a bloody smile, gore coating his hands, mouth, and chest.

Well, I didn’t see that coming.

RHYS

West and I swiftly and silently make our way up the short staircase to the loft, West in the lead since his night vision is much better than mine. With my light, I can make out the watered-down blood sitting in puddles on the hardwood floor. The sprinklers have trickled off, no longer pelting us with freezing-cold water.

He moves to check the bathroom while I work on clearing the bedroom. The room appears empty at first, but I’d feel a hell of a lot better if we could find Javier and Carver. That, and figure out who brought a fucking Revenant to the party.

Catching sight of a shoe, I find Carver half-sitting, half-sprawled on the floor behind the club chair in the corner. He’s gasping shallowly, doing his best to try and talk, but given the foamy bubbles coming out of his mouth, his lung is punctured.

That doesn’t stop his mouth from moving, his eyes wild, desperate.

Or I should say “eye.”

His arms and face are deeply slashed, enough to know that unless he can heal from it, Carver is likely going to lose his right eye. Four deep gashes span from his left shoulder to his belly, and in a circle around his heart, he has five distinct puncture wounds. The Revenant must have been interrupted in the process of ripping out his heart.

Lucky bastard.

Letting out a low whistle, I feel West’s approach as I yank a throw blanket from the chair and try to stem the flow of blood.

“Ja-Javier. Re… re… re...” Carver gasps but loses consciousness before he can get the words out.

This whole thing is wrong. First the security breach, then the Revenant, and we haven’t found Javi. This situation has “fucked” written all over it. By the expression on West’s face, he’s thinking the exact thing I am.

“Can he even heal from this?” I ask because wraith anatomy is not exactly something I’ve studied up on.

“Best case, yes, but it’ll take several days. Worst case?” He shakes his head.

My jaw clenches. “You find Javi?”

“No.”

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