Page 89 of Shadow Master
I lunged and stabbed his attacker in the gut. My blade stuck fast, and I had to yank hard to pull it free.
We stood side by side for long seconds. No one attacked us. And it hit me … we were winning. We were actually fucking winning.
Kash’s siphoning had worked, it had given us the advantage we needed. Hope swelled in my chest.
“Fall back!” Draka called out, his voice laced with panic.
What? What the fuck?
“Oh, dear,” Lugh said, his attention fixed over my head.
My muscles tensed as I turned to look over my shoulder.
There, on the red horizon, was a new wave of fir bolg headed our way.
My throat tightened with betrayal, like how could Laramir do this to us? Make us think we were winning and then crush our hopes with a fresh battalion of men.
But Laramir didn’t owe us anything.
“Fall back,” Draka shouted again.
We turned and ran.
* * *
This was it.The final line of defense and we were headed toward it. But Draka stopped us a quarter of a mile away from the sector two border.
“Stand your ground,” he ordered. “We fight till the death.”
This was the point of no return. The point we took out as many of the fuckers as we could.
I spotted Harmon barreling toward me. Lloyd, Aidan, and Devon joined him as they beelined my way. Hyde appeared to the left of Lugh, and then Larkin materialized with Kash a distance away, dropped him off, and winked out to appear beside me.
My weaver lover looked dead on his feet. He was swaying back and forth as if he were drunk.
“This is the last one,” Larkin said. “He’s done. Any more and it could kill him.”
Kash threw back his head, and his body began to shake as he siphoned from the army rushing toward us. His efforts had less impact this time, and he fell to the ground in a heap. Larkin appeared by Kash and then vanished, taking the weaver with him.
This was it.
I locked gazes with each of the guys. “It’s been an honor fighting alongside you.”
And then the wave crashed into us.
No time for thought. Just action.
Blood warm on my face. The clang of steel. The bite of metal on my flesh, followed by the zing of healing. The rush of air as a blade cut too close to my face. The crunch of dirt beneath my boots.
The swing. The slash. The stab.
Voices and cries and grunts.
No thinking.
Just survival, and then pain, sharp and sudden, through my abdomen.
The world slowed as the ground came up to meet me. No. I braced, gathering my bearings. Where?
