They had come prepared.
Good.
So had he.
Vectortucked his wingsand dove, amissile of wrath, his roarcleaving through the night. The others followed, ahurricane of scaled bodies, descending like theharbingers of death.
A horn blared from below—sharp, panicked.
Then—
Fire.
Not dragon fire.
Gunfire. Explosions. The high-pitched shriek ofsilver spears slicing through the sky.
Vectortwisted; instincts razor-sharp. A harpoon streaked toward him, slicing the air with deadly precision. He veered right, feeling the rush of wind as it barely missed his wing.Behind him, a sickening crack—one of the dragons took the hit.
The boltpunched through blue scales.
The dragonscreamed—a sound of pain but not surrender. He kept flying. Keptcoming.
Because nothing—nothing—would stop them.
A furious snarlrattled Vector’s chest. His wings snapped open at the last second, breaking his dive just as he reachedthe rooftop. Heslammed into a ballista, his talonsshredding through steellike paper.
The men manning it screamed.
Vector did not care.
A rifle aimed at his head.
He struck—his fangs clamping down,bone cracked, flesh tore, and the man’s dying shriek was nothing more than a footnote in the carnage. Vector flung him off the roof like discarded trash.
Below,the Guardians hit the estate like a storm of death.Wings battered against walls. Claws tore through defenses. Crossbowsshattered. Screamsfilled the air, the scent ofblood curling into the wind.
But none of them breathed fire.
They couldn’t.
Becauseshewas somewhere inside that mansion, and if even a single ember touched that stone—she couldburn.
Vector’s tail lashed, his frustration aliving thing.
Where?! Where is she?!
A net came flying.
He twisted, his tailwhipping through the air,slashing it apart mid-flight. Another silver harpoon streaked toward Erik—hecaught it with his talons, spun midair, andhurled it back.
Itimpaledthe gunman,nailing him to the wall behind him.
Screams erupted.
Vectorswooped lower, his sharp eyes scanning everybalcony, every window, every shadow?—
Raven.
