1
SAM
“Layla!” I shouted over the idling engine of the SUV that had just plowed through the barn and skidded to a stop. Only moments prior, Layla and I had grabbed Orion and Luna from the cribs in the North Dakota farmhouse where their kidnappers were keeping them and fled.
We’d just approached the opening of the barn when the SUV sped toward us. We had no choice but to separate. She’d gone right, and I’d darted left.
Fuuuuck! Why couldn’t we catch a break? We were so damn close to freedom with our children.
“Tripp, come in!” I shouted into my comm as I fished out earplugs from my pants pocket and inserted them into Orion’s ears. Layla and I hadn’t had enough time to protect Orion and Luna before we ran out of the farmhouse.
Then I pulled out my gun from the holster on my leg as I ran around the backside of the barn with my son Orion strapped to me in a padded baby carrier. Thank fuck we had the fortitude to think ahead about a baby carrier so our hands were free to use weapons.
“Layla!” I called out as loudly as I could despite the howls, growls, and gunfire splitting the thick night air all around me.
The barn was still collapsing, the wood splintering and creaking like a thousand cries for help. I prayed like a motherfucker that Layla had made her escape with Luna to our rendezvous point north of the farm where Olivia should be waiting in a getaway vehicle.
I tried Tripp again, then Olivia. Nothing from either of my Vampire Navy SEAL comrades.
“Sam.” Layla’s tight voice was high and loud and carried over the rampant noise. “Get Orion to safety.”
Orion squirmed in my arms as if he was reacting to his mother’s voice.
“Yep, that’s your mom,” I said. “And we’re not leaving without her or your sister.” I slowed to a walk at the corner of the barn and peered around to find a black SUV idling, taillight on and the back door open. “Where are you, Layla?”
“I’m dealing with an issue,” she responded, sounding closer now. “Just go.”
“Who’s with you?” I shouted.
I could barely see the driver’s head, but there wasn’t anyone else in the vehicle.
“Sam Mason, why don’t you join us?” a very familiar voice said in a snarky tone.
“Roman Brown, is that you?” I asked through clenched teeth.
That motherfucker was like a cockroach that wouldn’t die. Those fuckers could live through the depths of hell and come out unscathed.
“It seems we meet again.” He had too much excitement in his voice for my liking. “Now show yourself and hand over your son. You and Layla are not leaving this farm with your children.”
“Wanna bet, asshole?” I fired back.
I was fed up with fuckers like him wanting my DNA to further their own twisted schemes for power, money, and control. Now my wife and children were the target, not only of Roman but also of Maeve Monroe—Layla’s great aunt and a powerful witch who I hadn’t had the displeasure of meeting yet. She wanted my wife dead and all four of my children for a blood ritual so she could fulfill a prophecy of becoming a Mystic witch with ultimate power.
Not fucking happening.
Think, man.The vehicle that had driven through the barn had to at least have a driver in it. But if I knew Roman, he had an army with him, which was evident by the multitude of growls, howls, and gunfire.
“I am going to have some fun with Layla!” Roman yelled over the distant battle sounds. “I might not have your niece, Abbey, yet, but I can do wonders with your wife. I understand she’s a Monroe witch. That means she has supercharged abilities. There are many of my colleagues who will pay top dollar for a witch.”
I gritted my teeth so hard I believed one cracked. Roman Brown, head of one of the largest blood cartels among our kind, had to die.
“Touch Layla or my daughter, and I’ll rip off your balls and stuff them in your mouth until you choke to death.” My voice was caustic and brittle. “Layla, hang tight.”
Stick to the plan, dude. Get Orion out of there. You’ve come too far to fail now.
It had been a grueling fourteen days since Orion and Luna had been snatched from their cribs at my sister Jo’s house in Maine. Two solid weeks of anguish and close calls with death. Not to mention Layla taking the life of her paternal grandmother Harriet Aberdeen. In a short span of time, my wife had been subjected to more bad shit than anyone I knew. To say she was resilient—one of the many qualities that had drawn me to her—was an understatement.
Nevertheless, Layla didn’t stand a chance against Roman—not unless the blood she’d drunk from her maternal grandmother several minutes ago unlocked her witchcraft. Even then, Layla had no idea how to wield magic. So I wasn’t abandoning my wife to deal with Roman or even Maeve by herself.
