Page 93 of The Huntress

She gasped, her heartbeat roaring in her ears as a wave of heat flushed her face. His earnest tone had her hoping she could soften his resolve. She had never succumbed to a criminal’s sweet talk and an evil bastard like Stavros would be the exception.

Honestly, where the hell are you?She jumped up, not liking Stavros looming over her.

“What do you want, Stavros?” she asked, stalling for time.

“I smell your fear, young one, and your anger. Yourbelovedcannot save you. Not this time.” He looped his arm around her waist and yanked her against him.

“What are you doing?” Raising her chin with a glare, she pressed her palms against his chest. “Release me now!” She pushed, and despite a youngling’s supposed strength, she couldn’t budge him.

“Gabriel and the de Winter Hold will spend all their resources hunting for you. This will ensure the shifters win this war. You could say I’m doing my part for humanity.”

Gabe!

Seconds later, Stavros dissolved her into a mist. Her mind clouded, enshrouded by gray walls of fog—unbreakable, impenetrable. She tested the boundaries, bouncing off them with each attempt. At the center of it was the loss of her connection with Gabe. A cold and dark void draining her hope, her strength.

Had Stavros killed him? Is that what the hollowness meant? Or was Stavros playing with her mind?

No, no. This can’t be happening again.

You’re a naïve little girl, my sweet. Stavros’s voice echoed through the shroud.I can keep you like this indefinitely. To choose another when he claimed to love my sister? I cannot condone such disloyalty.

You are a psychopathic bastard,Callie screamed as she ran her fingers over the fog, searching for weaknesses.You didn’t want him to love Abigail. Now you’re pissed off he loves me? I might not be a psychologist by profession, but I know batshit crazy when I see it.

Converting you hasn’t taught you respect.His tone was colder.

This delighted her. At least she was drawing a reaction from him.

Youearnrespect, idiot. Any respect you ever had, you lost when your sister died.

The fog pulsed, the edges shimmering with black. Lightning bursts of white sparked across its surface, so she grabbed for one, shoving her fist through it. The shroud quivered, encouraging her to force her other fist through the same crack. The energy and strength it took from her to widen the hole had her whimpering. Agony throbbed in her skull, shooting shards of glass through her body, and left sweat dripping off her chin. Her arms trembled as she fought the force of the closing hole.

Gabe!She sobbed his name, tears streaking down her cheeks unhindered. She hoped the crack was wide enough to reach him. If he was alive, he’d answer her. She pleaded with him to say something.

There was no response. Just soul-destroying silence.

Images, memories flashed in her mind. Of Mike shaking his head at something she’d said. A smiling Val standing alongside a perplexed Leo. George in Dimitri’s arms, crying. Tears misting Gabe’s gray eyes, and the abject sorrow dragging his mouth down. She wailed, crying out as her soul ripped from her.

She couldn’t lose them…him.

There was no way in hell she’d let Stavros win. She had to find a way to end this cycle of revenge, or they’d never be safe. Callie kept her arms in the crack and closed her eyes, sucking in slow calming breaths, willing her tears to fade. She listened to her heart thumping a steady rhythm, ignoring the sensation of a thousand ants crawling across her skin as the shroud shrank, threatening to swallow her.

She always knew where the criminals were, where to fire when they attacked, and when to duck when they fired. Fey blood ran along her veins. As a legend, she could save herself.

Detective Callista Devereaux needed no one to help her, to free her.

That wasn’t true. She needed Gabe.

She tugged on the core of molten steel that simmered in the very depths of her being. One strand released, and the crack widened. She thrust in until her elbows brushed the edges of the hole. The twang of electricity spiking her heart rate was bearable, but when many strands released, clawing their way to her limbs, an animalistic scream tore from her. The white burning power pulverized her senses, overwhelmed her nerve endings, and just like that, she was standing on a rocky outcrop with a kneeling Stavros before her.

She couldn’t sense Gabe’s presence. A breath rushed out of her, and she dashed at the fresh wave of tears drenching her cheeks.

Behind her was a sheer drop into a ravine, the gurgling and bubbling of the flowing river far below. Teasing zephyrs danced with tendrils of her hair, cooling the sweat still beading her skin. A clicking sound drew her attention, and she focused her vision on a spider working its web. The wind whispered its news: a deer a mile east, an old man chopping wood outside his cabin southeast of her—his blood aged but no less tantalizing. Her mind shot from eagle to cougar to deer, seeing their worlds through their vision.

“What have you done to Gabe?” she asked as Stavros clambered to his feet.

His skin had paled to an ashen color, his eyes darkening to solid black.

“You are strong for a youngling.” He ignored her question, gripped her wrist and yanked her toward him.

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