Page 80 of Tainted Souls
I move to the side, stumbling deliberately, letting him believe he has me off balance. He closes the distance again fast, driving me toward a corner where a real rookie might panic. At the last second, I twist low and pull a hidden blade from my boot, slashing up across his ribs as I pass beneath his arm.
It’s a shallow but vicious cut, and from the way he recoils, the blade hit something important—or at least something unexpected.
He stumbles back, his eyes flaring with fury. His hand presses to his side, now leaking dark, sluggish blood. “You little—”
I ready another bolt, this one aimed properly.
No hesitation. No pretense.
The vampire hesitates, sizing me up again. His former arrogance has wavered, just slightly.
“You’ll regret that,” he spits, retreating into the shadows behind the filtration tank. “Let’s see how brave you are then.”
I let him go, lowering the weapon just enough to sell the act. The moment he vanishes, I press a finger to the comm at my collar.
“Target wounded. He’s going for reinforcements. Positions ready?”
One by one, the team confirms.
The trap is set.
Half an hour passes with excruciating slowness.
The warehouse remains silent except for the occasional skittering of rats and the distant hum of the city. My muscles ache from standing still, tension coiled within me like a spring, the anticipation unnerving me. The emptiness feels more ominous by the minute. How far could the backup be? Was he out here all by himself?
Then I hear it: a soft footfall on the catwalk above. I resist the urge to look up, continuing to feign obliviousness.
“Movement on the upper level,” I whisper into my comm.
“I see it,” Lieutenant Whitlock replies. “Three figures, approaching from the western catwalk.”
The air shifts as a group of vampires descend. My pulse quickens, but I keep my posture relaxed, pretending to inspect the area ahead while tracking their movements by sound alone.
A soft rattle echoes through my earpiece as Martinez’s voice comes through. “I have visual on Wraith.”
The vampires press closer, circling me, shadows brushing the edges of my awareness.
“Now,” Lexa orders through the comm.
Floodlights blaze from concealed positions, bathing the interior in harsh white illumination. Vampires hiss, momentarily blinded.
I turn and launch myself at the first target in sight, dagger ready. It slices through the neck of one vampire, who staggers back, clutching at the wound as the G-oil begins its work. Next to him, another vampire recovers its sight and snarls. I duck under a sweeping forearm, then stab deep into a thigh before reaching for one of the spray bottles on my glove to ward off three other vampires coming at me. A spinning kick takes me past another attacker when fingers brush my shoulder before I can fully evade, tearing through the fabric of my jacket.
Clementine.
She lunges, moving faster than even my dhampir eyes can track. I raise my dagger to block, but she bats it aside effortlessly. Her hand closes around my throat, squeezing hard, black spots dancing at the corners of my vision.
A shot rings out, and Clementine jerks backward. A lumen round has pierced her shoulder, momentarily breaking her concentration. She whirls to face the attacker.
Lexa stands ten feet away, her pistol trained on Clementine’s heart. “Step away from her.”
Clementine’s lips curl into a smile. “Captain Ventura.”
I don’t recall them being acquainted, but it’s no surprise Lexa’s mighty reputation precedes her. Following her mark, teams converge from all entrances. Rhodes and Martinez rappel from the ceiling, firing bullets in all directions. Wei and Keller burst through the side doors, herding the other vampires toward the center with a combination of G-sprays, daggers, and Dr. Song’s Disruptor. Within seconds, slayers have flooded the area and cornered the vampires, including our target.
Lexa taps her earpiece. “Initiate Phase Two.”
My comm crackles, then cuts to static. Just for a second, but long enough to make my gut twist.
