Page 74 of Siege of Blood and Betrayal

Huntley growls, cracking his knuckles. “We’ll fucking bathe in it.”

The first of Daeva’s men lunges, and I move to meet him in a blur. My fist connects with his face, and the shattering of his jaw beneath my knuckles is satisfying. He stumbles back, dazed, but another takes his place immediately, swiping at me with claws that barely miss my face.

I duck and spin, catching him by the arm and twisting it hard enough to snap the bone. He howls, but there’s no time to finish him—two more rush at me from either side. I block one’s punch with my forearm, driving my elbow into the face of the other. Blood sprays across the pavement, but it’s not enough to slow them down.

Beside me, Huntley is a whirlwind of violence. He slams his opponent into the brick wall of a nearby building, using the force to shatter their spine. But as soon as he puts one down, three more are on him, clawing and snapping with feral desperation.

“They move in a fucking swarm!” Huntley throws one off with a grunt, but takes a nasty swipe across his chest that tears through his shirt.

Some bastard slams into me from behind, driving me to my knees. I twist around, grabbing his head in both hands and snapping his neck. It buys me only a second of breathing room before another sinks his claws into my shoulder, drawing blood.

I roar in pain, slamming my elbow into his face and tossing him off, but the force of their numbers is wearing us down. My beast revels in the physicality of killing these abominations. My muscles burn, my vision warping as my instincts take over and I go full savage.

For every enemy we eliminate, two more take their place.

Huntley’s back is against mine now, the two of us scrambling to fight off the tide of turned vampires. His breath is ragged, but he’s still holding his own, still fighting like the ruthless bastard I’ve known for years.

We’re stronger than them—born vampires always are—but they have the advantage of numbers, and it’s only a matter of time before one of them lands a lucky blow.

A claw rakes across my side, and I grunt, feeling the sting as a rush of hot blood soaks into my clothes. I lash out with a kick that sends one of the turned vampires sprawling, but another grabs me from behind, pinning my arms. I snarl, straining against his grip, but then another joins him, teeth sinking into my shoulder.

“Zane!” Huntley’s voice is strained with worry. He’s struggling too, blood dripping from a gash on his forehead, his arm twisted at a painful angle as he fends off a pair of attackers.

Damn it.This isn’t how it’s supposed to end. Not cornered in some forgotten alleyway, taken down by a horde of bottom-feeders.

My vision blurs with pain, desperation clawing at my chest… and then a deafening roar splits the night, followed by a blur of motion.

One of the turned vampires pinning me is torn away with a wet crunch—his head ripped clean off.

Tucker.

He barrels through the horde like a living battering ram, his otherworld strength on full display as he tears through theattackers. His claws flash in the dim light, ripping through flesh like paper, and the turned vampires skitter back to reassess their advantage when faced with an unknown predator far more dangerous than they expected.

Scottie is right behind him, her movements a deadly dance as she wields a silver-tipped baton, the crackle of her squire magic arcing through the air with each strike. She brings it down on the skull of a turned vampire, and the crack echoes in the air even after he’s crumpled to the ground.

I’m infused with renewed strength and wrench free from the grip of the vampire holding me, snapping his neck with a vicious twist.

Huntley regains his footing beside me, his face set in grim determination as we press the attack, driving the turned vampires back.

Scottie moves like a whirlwind, her baton a blur as she strikes, each blow landing with brutal precision. She catches my eye for a split second, her expression fierce, and I can’t help but feel a surge of admiration.

She’s always been a fighter.

Tucker is a force of nature, his massive frame plowing through the attackers with bone-crushing strength. He grabs two vampires by the neck, slamming their heads together with a sickening crack before tossing their limp bodies aside.

With the four of us working together, the horde finally thins. The ground is littered with broken bodies, and the remaining turned vampires falter, their desperation turning to concern as they realize they are no longer the hunters.

With Tucker’s strength and Scottie’s speed, the tide has shifted in our favor.

When the three dark angels step out of DonorWatch and fan out in front of the glass window of the clinic, our attackers seem to truly admit defeat.

Not that the Watchers are involving themselves in our fight—they won’t. Their directive is to police otherworld behavior and ensure it doesn’t impact humanity or expose the existence of preternatural races.

Their presence is a cue that we need to end this before some unsuspecting human stumbles upon us. Although, by the way the fine mist in the air is making the skin on my arms tingle, I’m willing to bet one of them has shrouded our fight from view.

Still, this needs to end.

Huntley offers me a quick nod and I search for Daeva. She hung to the back of the pack like a coward and now I don’t see her at all.

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