Page 68 of Donovan
The leader jerked as a bullet tore through his shoulder.
Donovan.
I gasped for breath as the vampire leader staggered, his grip loosening just enough.
I wrenched free, dropping low and grabbing my fallen knife. Before he could recover, I drove the blade up into his chest, right through the sternum.
He screamed, his body convulsing.
But I wasn’t done. I yanked the knife free and slashed again, this time across his throat. Blood sprayed, dark and thick.
His hands clawed at the wound, his mouth opening and closing like he couldn’t quite process what had just happened. Then Donovan was there, gun aimed. One final shot.
The leader collapsed.
Dead.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
DONOVAN
The woods were silent now,save for the ragged breathing of the survivors. Blood soaked the ground. The air stank of death and gunpowder.
I sucked in a breath, scanning the clearing, my chest heaving. We’d done it. Against all odds, we’d survived. Everyone on our side was still standing.
But then I saw Kit. A rabid vampire had him pinned, its grotesque face inches from his throat, fangs bared, ready to rip into flesh.
Kit fought, his knife wedged between their bodies, barely holding the creature back. But I saw it in his eyes. He was losing. He wouldn’t last another few seconds.
My gut twisted. I had led him into this. I’d baited the trap. And if he died here, if I let him die, I’d never be able to shake the guilt.
But before I could move, Declan did.
He was a blur of motion, crossing the space between them in a heartbeat. His knife flashed under the moonlight, burying itself in the rabid’s side.
The creature shrieked. Kit used the distraction to shove it off, scrambling away just as Declan struck again.
His blade carved clean through the vampire’s throat, severing flesh and bone in one brutal motion. The rabid slumped. Dead.
Declan stood there, blood splattered across his face. His body tense, like he was waiting for the next threat to come. But there was none. It was over.
A hunter rushed to Kit’s side, hauling him up. He was a little unsteady, but he was alive. Alive, because Declan had saved him. And my gamble? It had paid off.
I let out a breath, taking it all in. The battlefield was a mess. Blood and bodies littered the ground, the scent of death thick in the air.
The echoes of the fight still rang in my ears. Clashing steel, bullets flying, and guttural growls.
But somehow, against all odds, we were still standing. Kit. The hunters. Declan. Me.
We were all still breathing. The fight had pushed us to our limits, forcing us into impossible choices. But in the end, we’d won.
A gruff voice broke through the heavy silence. “What now?”
I turned to see one of Kit’s men, a broad-shouldered, battle-worn hunter, surveying the aftermath, his jaw tight.
His gaze swept over the wreckage before landing on me and Declan. His lip curled in disdain.
“What do we do about them?” he demanded.
