Hell, no.
Trygg pounced before he even realized his body was in motion. Leaping the distance between him and Crespo, he took the human down like a bear on a field mouse.
“Trygg, don’t!”
Sia’s panicked shout barely registered through the blinding red of his rage. He heard a gunshot crack louder than thunder as Crespo’s weapon fired a wild shot on his descent to the pavement, but not even that made a dent in his fury.
Trygg wrenched the human’s head so violently it was a miracle it didn’t separate from Crespo’s shoulders. He roared like an animal, barely leashing the urge to rip the corpse to pieces just for the offense of touching Sia.
But then Trygg caught a whiff of fresh-spilled blood somewhere nearby.
Sia. She was on the ground, her long legs gone out from under her when the bullet tore into her right thigh.
Son of a bitch. She’d been hit.
He knew she would heal on her own, but seeing her bloodied and down on the ground made his veins freeze.
And then they were no longer alone.
The club’s rear door banged open several yards behind them, bringing the pounding beat from inside and the chatter of anxious male voices with it.
"Marco said to stay put,” one of the humans whined. “He’s not going to be happy if we interrupt him.”
Another man answered. “He’s gonna be a lot less happy if that Breed male I spotted came out here to try and steal that hot blonde tail he’s trying to lock up tonight.”
“I’m telling you, that vampire is from the Order,” a third male voice interjected grimly. “I think he’s that Gen One from the Rome unit.”
Someone else chuckled. “Better hope he’s not, or Marco and all the rest of us are—”
“Fucked,” Trygg answered, stepping into the light.
The men stopped abruptly and a lot of weapons were drawn. Trygg wasn’t sure who fired first. All he knew was that after a brief, chaotic hail of gunshots and pained cries, Roberto Santino was minus one dumbfuck cousin and four of his foot soldiers.
“I can’t believe you did this.” Sia came up next to him, already walking on her own. The look she swiveled on him was bleak, something more than incredulous. “You killed them all.”
“Yes.” He turned to her, sliding the hot barrel of his 9-millimeter into the back waistband of his black jeans. “Are you okay?”
In the end, that was the only thing that mattered. She didn’t answer right away, but he could see that her Atlantean skin was mending as he watched. The sweet honey-and-citrus scent of her blood still clung to her, making his senses throb and his fangs stretch even longer behind his curled upper lip.
He reached out to touch her, if only to reassure himself that she was fine. She flinched away from his touch.
“No one was supposed to die,” she murmured woodenly. “Those were our orders, Trygg. Plant the bug on Crespo and get out. That’s what Lazaro expected us to do.”
He shook his head on a curse. “I don’t give a shit about that right now.”
“Well, I do!” She shoved at him and started marching away from the carnage.
He caught up in a blink, blocking her path. “What the hell are you so upset about? I did this because of you. Don’t you understand that? When Crespo pulled that gun on you, I thought—”
“You thought what?” she shot back. “That you needed to protect me? I didn’t ask you to. Dammit, Trygg, I don’t want your protection. All I want is—”
She cut herself off on a miserable-sounding groan.
“All you want is what?” he demanded. “Say it, Sia. For fuck’s sake, tell me what this is about.”
Her gaze was stark, even accusing. “All I want is a chance to get back home to the colony. To my people. Back where I belong.”
He drew back. He hadn’t been expecting that. She had admitted to him once before that a day didn’t pass when she hadn’t thought of her old life. He just hadn’t considered how deeply she obviously wanted it. Especially since she’d been banished from ever returning.
