I push myself higher against the wall, grunting as I shift to sit. Pain lances through my shoulder, but it's duller and more manageable.
"Really?" I scoff. "He pulls your funding and you bolt? You didn't even get shot."
Maeve shoots me a look full of disdain. "This is not my war, vampire. I refuse to be collateral damage in the soap opera you're running."
I shrug, wincing at the movement. "Fair." Don't like it, but she's not wrong.
Asher steps closer, eyes flicking between Sage and Maeve. "Will the barrier hold without you here?"
Maeve nods. "Yes. Until someone breaks it."
Sage speaks up, voice tight. "Can we leave? All of us?"
"All who were present at the time the ward was cast can come and go freely," Maeve replies. "However, this shield does not protect you from humans."
Asher turns to Sage. "Does Darius employ humans?"
"Yes," she says. "He occasionally hires merc teams for specific jobs. I never worked with them directly, but I've read the reports. They're good."
Asher crosses his arms, thinking. "I doubt he'd send mercenaries here. Not with your life on the line."
Sage shifts uncomfortably, gaze dropping. "Probably not. He'd keep it in the inner circle as much as possible."
"Unless he gets desperate," I mutter. "Can anything else get past your magical shrub shield?" I glance at the druid, making sure she doesn't leave without giving the full disclaimer.
"Supernaturals aligned with death can pass," Maeve replies. "Vampires, skinwalkers, wendigos. Creatures of that nature. Assuming Darius employs any."
"We'll keep our eyes open for a vegan wendigo army," I quip.
The druid doesn't dignify that with a response.
"This was more eventful than I hoped for," Maeve says, tone dry. "And less beneficial. I sincerely hope to never see you again. Farewell."
And just like that, she turns on her heel and walks out, vanishing past the broken door with an arrowhead still embedded like a damn souvenir.
"I'm sorry for Maeve's behavior," Eira says softly. "She was clearly shaken by what Darius did."
"It's not your fault, Eira. Don't worry," Asher replies. "She's already done plenty for us."
I grunt, pushing off the wall. My shoulder's still on fire, but I manage to get vertical. Asher steps in, offering a hand. I hesitate just long enough to make a point, then take it.
His grip is firm and supportive, but the look he gives me sayswe're going to talk later.
Can't wait.
I break contact and limp toward the liquor cabinet. Scotch is calling, and I damn well earned it.
As I pour, I glance around the room, taking stock for the first time since we stormed back under fire. Everyone's still breathing somehow.
Astrid's sitting on the couch, letting Eira bandage her arm. Eira's got a bloody scrape on her cheek, nothing serious. Jace is crouched by Winston, carefully pulling glass shards out of the old man's face with tweezers. Winston suffers through it with a stoic attitude. Tomas is at the weapons rack checking the gear. Seems unharmed or doesn't show it.
Donna stalks up to Asher with her hands on her hips. "We need to get the bullets out, Colonel.Now," she says, more command than suggestion.
I smirk behind my glass. Gotta love her bedside manner.
I see Asher's about to argue, but Sage steps in, catching his hand gently.
"I can do it," she says. "I've had practice."
