Page 159 of Vampire so Virtuous
A man stood in the garden beyond the shattered window. He held a submachine gun—pointed straight at her.
Her heart hammered in her chest, a desperate, raw panic clawing at her gut, and she threw herself sideways against the fireplace as bullets shredded the couch, ripping through fabric, stuffing, and the wall beyond. Glass and debris rained down in a chaotic clatter. She curled up, arms over her head, biting back a cry as her injured shoulder flared in agony.
The gun’s harsh bark echoed through the room. She flinched as more bullets chewed into the fireplace’s brickwork above her, filling the air with red dust and small, jagged shards of fired clay.
The front door smashed open, heavy footsteps bursting in. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to run. And she was too stunned.
Another blast of gunfire rang out from the door of the living room, loud and urgent. Sharp, rapid pistol shots. Cally pressed herself lower, barely able to see past the couch. Through the smashed window, she caught a glimpse of the gunman as bullets struck him, twisting him around, his weapon flying from his hands as he fell out of sight.
“Cally!” She didn’t recognize the voice. She crawled behind the couch, huddled on the carpet, gripping her shoulder. The doctor lay motionless a few feet away. “Cally!” The shout came again, heavy boots pounding into the room. A man in khaki trousers and a leather jacket came into view, a pistol held in both hands.
It was Noah.Thank fuck.
“Shit, you’re hurt.”
“It’s not serious,” she said, teeth clenched against the pain. “Check him.” She jerked her head to the doctor.
Noah crabbed sideways, staying low, switching his pistol to a one-handed grip as he pressed his fingers to the doctor’s neck. He was still for the count of ten heartbeats, before shaking his head. “He’s dead.”
Because of me.Her stomach twisted.
Noah spared her a glance, then kept his eyes on the windows. “We need to get you out of here.”
Movement flickered in the garden—another man, glimpsed past the doctor’s chair. Two gunshots rang out in rapid succession, and the figure crumpled, as though his legs had given way. Cally flinched against the sofa, wincing as her shoulder throbbed in protest. Noah knelt before her, his weapon pointed toward the smashed windows, his head rotating in a constant scan as he tried to cover every angle.
“Just the shoulder?”
“Yeah,” she grunted.
“Good. You’ll be fine. Let’s move.”
I’ll be fine?“I’ve been shot twice.” Was he seriously acting like this was normal?
“Yeah? You’re a marked chattel. Antoine said you had better healing than thralls.” He turned, offering her an arm. “We need to get out of here. More could be more coming.”
“What’s going on outside?”
“Zoey is there.” He pulled her to her feet when she didn’t move fast enough, and she grimaced at the pain. “We’re leaving. Now.”
Cally stared at the doctor, dead on his carpet, but Noah had hold of her uninjured arm and was already dragging her out of the room. “Come on, Cally, we need to move.”
She let him help her to the front door, then he roughly shoved her to the side before checking the street. He grabbed her again, not seeming to care about her injury, hurrying her down the path to his SUV.
“The Lamborghini…”
“We’re leaving it.”
Zoey ran around the side of the house, her pistol gripped firmly in both hands. She was dressed similarly to Noah, in tough military boots and trousers with a black fabric jacket—a stark contrast to her nightclub outfit. She barely spared Cally a glance, swiftly looking up and down the street.
“They’re both dead,” she said.
“Antoine’s in my apartment,” Cally told Noah. “He’s asleep, he’s vulnerable.”And he may have killed my mother.The thought twisted in her gut, a sickening mix of betrayal and disbelief.
“We have thralls already there,” Noah replied, pulling open the rear door of his SUV and pushing Cally inside. “Get in the back with her. I’ll drive.”
“What’s her injury?” Zoey said, climbing in the other side.
“Antoine’s going to be pissed about the Lamborghini,” Cally said, staring at the beautiful car through the window. Everything was a blur, the pace of events too much to process. And her shoulderhurt.
