Page 65 of The Mafia Bloodline
The doors slammed open, my boots hitting the pavement hard as I stalked forward. The scent hit me first, the fucking demon blood, acrid and burning. The shattered window on the upper floor glinted like a wound.
“Volken!” Roman’s voice barked behind me.
But I was already gone.
The bond pulled me forward, dragging me through the corridors as nurses screamed and our men moved aside. My vision tunnelled, rage and panic bleeding together until all that existed was to find her.
And when I saw the trail of blood smeared on the floor, the black, thick, unholy fury inside me snapped.
My roar tore through the building like thunder.
The demons who hadn’t already fled would learn the truth soon. Volken Dragic had woken, and I was coming for blood.
My roar tore through the building like thunder ancient, raw, and hungry.
The air shuddered with it, a pulse of pure fury that sent every light flickering and every mortal heart nearby skipping a beat.
The scent of demon ichor filled my lungs, the stench of rot and sulphur clinging to every shadow. The walls were smeared with black blood, the kind that burned through plaster and tile, hissing softly like acid. Somewhere deeper in the hospital, something groaned, it wasn’t human, and not alive, the realization had me moving.
Every instinct in me honed to one single purpose. I need to find, kill and protect.
I could hear boots pounding against the floor, I followed the trail, my claw marks gouged into walls, doors hanging off their hinges. The screams had quieted now; the humans had been ushered out or hidden by my men. The only sounds were the distant echo of steel clashing and the low growls of demons still too slow to flee.
The first one came at me from the side, a blur of movement, claws like razors and teeth dripping tar. I didn’t stop walking. My hand shot out, catching it by the throat mid-lunge, and I snapped its neck with one twist. The crunch echoed down the corridor. Its body hit the floor before it even realized it was dead.
“Wrong fucking hospital,” I hissed, voice a growl that barely sounded human.
Another came, this one was larger, skin stretched tight over blackened muscle, eyes burning gold. It snarled something in a guttural demonic tongue before I buried my blade in its chest. The blade was silver-edged, spelled by Volken’s own bloodlinethe moment it hit, the demon screamed, its body collapsing into ash that burned a hole in the floor tiles.
I didn’t stop.
The sound of a gunshot rang out down the hall, followed by Ivan’s voice through the comms. “North wing is clear! Runa’s secured!”
Runa.
The bond flared so hard it nearly dropped me to my knees, a shock of her, alive and scared but safe. My chest eased, barely, and I exhaled through gritted teeth. “Keep her that way,” I snapped into the comm, stepping over another demon corpse.
“Already doing it,” Ivan’s voice came back, calm and steady.
Gideon’s voice joined in a moment later. “We’ve got survivors being evacuated. Two changelings down but stable. We’re holding the perimeter until the rest of you arrive.”
“Good,” Roman’s voice crackled through the line from the car. “We’re five minutes out.”
I didn’t respond. My focus was already shifting, because the bond changed.
It twisted.
A ripple of pain hit me through it, not Runa’s, but something else, something psychic and wrong. A cold laughter echoed faintly through the air, slithering over my senses.
“Still playing house, are we, Volken?” The voice was deep, mocking it was Caesar.
Not in person, but close enough. A projection, maybe, or a spellwoven into one of the dying demons. “The human bitch is quite the weakness. And the child… oh, that’s going to be interesting.”
I froze, my grip tightening around the hilt of my blade until the metal groaned.
“Say that again,” I growled, my voice dark and venomous.
The laughter echoed louder now, disembodied, smug. “You thought blood made you powerful. It only made you blind. Family makes men soft. You’ll see that soon enough.”
