Page 33 of Protected by the Vampire

Patrick’s gaze snapped to him, hatred flaring.

Until I drew his attention back to me, saying, “Let everyone go, and I’ll?—”

“No,” Deacon snarled, the word cutting through whatever I’d been about to say.

Patrick’s smirk widened. “You’ve surrounded yourself with interesting company.” His eyes flicked to the shifters. “But they won’t save you.”

The men behind him tensed.

The air snapped.

“Attack,” Patrick barked, the single word cracking through the room like a gunshot.

Deacon roared.

It wasn’t human—not even close. One second, he was standing there, and in the next, there was an explosion of fur, muscle, and sheer mass as his bear tore free, charging forward with a force that shook the ground beneath us.

The room erupted.

I barely registered the shocked curses from my brothers as chaos slammed into us. My guns were already in my hands, instinct taking over as I aimed and fired.

“Shoot them!” I yelled, stepping around the bar, heart hammering.

Patrick’s men moved fast—too fast. They spread out, meeting claws and fangs head-on as the shifters crashed into them. Nox moved like a shadow, precise and deadly, but even with them holding the line, a few slipped through.

Straight toward us.

We fired again and again. Bullets cut through the air, but it was like trying to hit smoke. They dodged, twisted, and blurred past shots that should’ve landed.

“Fuck,” Razor snapped. “Spade, go.”

“Like hell?—”

I didn’t get the rest out.

Patrick was suddenly there.

One second, he was across the room, and the next, right in front of me.

His hand came up… and the impact hit like a truck.

Pain exploded across my face as his backhand sent me flying. My body slammed into tables and chairs that splintered beneath me as I crashed into them, the force knocking the air from my lungs.

Something cracked.

I couldn’t tell if it was some part of me or the furniture.

Everything spun. My chest refused to pull in air. Panic clawed at my throat.

“Spade,” Monkey bellowed.

“Riker!” Prez shouted, distant and warped.

A bear roared, shaking the windows.

Nox’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and urgent. “I’m calling Dashiel!”

Who?