Page 37 of Vows & Violence
The others rush her. Half a dozen of them, but she’s already moving. Glock up, blasting a body into the wall. Spinning, cracking another’s knee with her boot, using the downed man as a human shield while she fires over his shoulder. Bone shatters. Screams ring.
I try to move again. I’m still sluggish, but the drug is thinning. Adrenaline coursing through my veins helps. So does the sheer goddamn fury boiling in my gut.
One of the Hollow Sons peels away from the melee and sees me twitching. He grins. Big mistake. He raises a machete.
I meet his eyes. “Come on, you coward.”
He charges.
And then his body seizes mid-stride. Three shots to the chest from Phoenix, fast as breathing.
I roll out of the circle as he collapses on top of it, bones crunching under his weight. My muscles scream, but they obey now. I crawl to the wall and grab the edge of a rusted lantern stand, forcing myself upright.
My experience and knowledge lead me to believe that Phoenix is down to one bullet and two blades. She locks eyes with me as she flips a man over her shoulder and buries a knife in his spine.
“You good?” she shouts.
“Better now,” I rasp, picking up the machete. My legs wobble, but I stand. “Let’s finish this.”
In the middle of the chaos, I finally get what being her Knightmare means. It’s a vow. To be the blade in her hand. The shadow at her back. To haunt the men who dared to try and take her. We fight like we were meant to. She fights to protect. I fight to punish. Side by side, in rhythm, breathing each other in between the cracks of gunfire and screams.
We cut down the last of them, leaving blood on the altar and bones on the floor.
Then, silence.
Ash floats through the room like it’s snowing. Phoenix breathes heavily, eyes scanning for any movement. I step toward her with shaky limbs.
“You came for me,” I say. She doesn’t answer, just looks at me like she’s checking for holes in my skin, for breaks in my bones. “I’m fine,” I add.
“No,” she says, voice raw, “you’re not.” And then she grabs my face and kisses me like she needs to prove I’m alive.
The room spins differently now. Not from drugs. But from her.
When she pulls back, her hands stay on my jaw. “They marked you. They were going to use you to get to me.”
I stumble, and Phoenix is right here to catch me. “I figured that out,” I say, nodding to the altar. “Real subtle guys.”
She doesn’t laugh. She’s still too close to breaking. “This isn’t over. The Hollow Sons didn’t just want blood tonight. They wanted a damn prophecy.”
“They didn’t get it.”
“No,” she agrees. “Because we rewrote the ending.”
We don’t speak as we climb the cracked stairs to the surface. The Quarter above is quieter now. I can hear sirens in the distance, a siren’s wail that isn’t for us.
Phoenix’s hand brushes mine as we walk. It’s not affection. It’s a promise. A warning. A tether. She will always come for me, no matter who tries to take me.
Above ground, smoke still lingers. The city still dances, blind again. But somewhere out there, Vale is watching. And he just got his warning.
Chapter Seventeen
Phoenix
Smoke clings to my lungs like regret. I crouch just outside the stone chamber, my Glock warm and ready in my hand. I hear Ghost’s voice, and something in me unravels. That smooth, steady baritone is cracked now, hoarse with pain. There’s a weight to it I’ve never heard before. It guts me.
They drugged him. I can tell by the slur in his words, the drag in his breathing.
Vale’s sick idea of justice.
