Page 101 of To Catch A Rogue
Kincaid staggered a step, and that answered that question.
"How badly are you hurt?"
"Just a scratch."
"Aye. And my name's Martha." Charlie stepped forward so he was between Kincaid and the wolves surrounding them. "Don't get yourself killed, because I amnotgoing to have to tell Ava her fiancé's dead."
With their backs to the wall, the wolves could only come at them two or three at a time, but it hampered his movements. He couldn't retreat, and Charlie used every trick Blade had ever taught him to keep them away from his throat.
Blood trickled down his arms.
His movements were slowing.
Kincaid stabbed a man who came at him from the side, but he could hear the wind whistling through Kincaid's lungs. Not only a "scratch" but a punctured lung.
Shit.
A dark shadow dropped out of nowhere, the whine of rope hissing from the crank at the person's waist.
Steel flashed past him.
Charlie shoved Kincaid's head down, but a cry from his side drew his attention. A man kicked and screamed on the ground, a throwing star jutting from his throat. Froth foamed at his mouth. Whatever the stars had been coated in, it clearly wasn't amicable.
And the newcomer hadn't been aiming for him.
"Who the hell are you?" Charlie gasped in terrible Russian.
The masked figure looked at him mercilessly. The bottom of the face was covered with black leather, leaving a pair of dark almond-shaped eyes glaring at him over the top. A woman by the look of those long lashes and narrow shoulders, and she replied in heavily accented English. "I am Deathless. You shouldn't be in these streets. They belong toChernyye Volki."
Then she drew a long, straight-edged sword and turned on the six men left standing. A sharp stream of Russian spat from her mouth, the men took one look at the sword, and then they turned and bolted.
Charlie bent over, his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. He looked around him at the scattered bodies. "We didn't know. They took one of ours."
"Then leave before this trespass is noticed by others." The woman turned and strode away, her cloak fanning out behind her.
"Wait!" He straightened. "Why did you help us?"
"Because we see all. And you are not only trespasser here tonight."
He looked at the battered wolf mask on the ground by his feet. It was something the Black Wolves wore, but if she was a Black Wolf, then why had she turned on her compatriots?
What sort of trespass?
Was there some kind of split among the Wolves?
"Can you help us find our friend?" he called.
"No." She was starting to fade into the curtain of snow.
"Ava's just an innocent!"
"She is not my concern," came the distant reply.
And then she was gone.
He turned back to find Kincaid gasping against the brick wall of the alleyway. Charlie knelt and rifled through his friend's coat for his flask of blood. Every blue blood carried one.
"Here. Drink this. It will help your stab wounds to heal."
