He looked fierce and savage, menace rolling off him. Yet the expression on his face when he saw her—when he realized what she’d done for him and his friends—was filled with a relief so profound it nearly broke her heart on the spot.
She managed a faint nod, all her focus centered on holding the shimmering light in place.
Jax threw one of his razor-sharp stars at the corner of it, grinning when it ripped through the shield without breaking the barrier. “We can shoot through this. Let’s take the rest of these bastards down.”
The team opened fire with a vengeance now, safe inside the shelter of her light. Beside Phaedra, Jordana smiled and gave her a grateful nod.
Her palms glowed with otherworldly fire. She unleashed all of it on a gunman who had the poor judgment to unload a volley of now-harmless UV rounds on Nathan’s position. The pulse of Atlantean power streaked through the darkness with unfailing aim. The man flew backward off his feet as if he’d been struck by a tsunami, his dying screams echoing over the remaining shooters’ assaults.
A shot from Micah’s gun took down the last sniper. The body slumped over the edge of the building, his weapon clattering down to the street below.
Silence fell over the alley. The stench of spent rounds, spilled blood, and bitter smoke assaulted Phaedra’s nostrils. The carnage had ended. It was over. Thankfully, the awful ambush and the men who’d perpetrated it were no more.
Jordana ran to Nathan, wrapping her arms around him. He held her close, no one uttering a single word.
Despite the quiet, Phaedra couldn’t seem to release her hold on the shield of light that protected her new friends . . . and Micah.
He looked at her, his handsome face an unreadable mask in the stillness of the battlefield spread out in all directions on the other side of the sheltering dome. Cast in the silver glow that surrounded him, his gaze was as bleak as she had ever seen it.
“Where’s Elijah?” Jordana asked softly, lifting her head from Nathan’s chest.
Phaedra had wondered the same thing—until she saw Micah take a step toward a scattered pile of ashes that lay near an old dumpster not far from where the rest of the warriors stood.
Jordana sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh, no. No . . . not Eli.”
She started to weep. Phaedra could hardly hold back her emotion, either. Charming, larger-than-life Eli. Gone.
Jax scrubbed a hand over his face, his dark eyes glistening. Darion’s sober expression looked controlled on the outside, but his gaze simmered with embers, the tips of his fangs glinting as he bit off a low curse. Even Nathan’s measured stare held an edge of shock and grief.
Micah knelt beside the remains of his fallen comrade and retrieved the thick leather belt that bristled with sheathed weapons. Ashes carried on the thin night breeze, skittering across the cracked pavement.
Nathan broke the heavy silence. “I’ll call it in to HQ.”
As the warrior’s deep voice rumbled into his comm unit, Micah rose. Holding Eli’s weapon belt in his hand, he walked over to one of the dead gunmen. He kicked the body onto its back, then crouched to remove the rifle and unused ammunition from the dead man.
“UV rounds aren’t easy to come by,” he commented, as tonelessly as if he were describing the weather.
Nathan’s hissed curse drew everyone’s attention. He’d ended his call, his normally cool gaze lit with chilling fury. “The reports of the Darkhaven attacks were a ruse. I just got word from Gideon. Lucan, Tegan, Chase, and Brock . . . they rolled out to all four locations and found nothing.”
Jax’s fangs flashed. “This was a fucking trap. Someone knew we were here and wanted to make sure we had reason enough to come out for the attack.”
Darion nodded. “The front exits were jammed for a reason. We were supposed to leave out the side alley, right into their crosshairs.”
Phaedra shuddered inside, horrified to imagine the evil it took to concoct such a cruel plan. She couldn’t keep her attention from straying to what was left of Eli. In another few moments, the cold breeze would erase him from existence completely.
God, if it had been Micah who’d been taken by one of those UV bullets too . . .
She looked to him, wishing she could run to him the way Jordana had gone to Nathan. Not that Micah needed comforting. She did. She wanted to feel his strong arms around her and feel the reassuring beat of his heart against her cheek.
None of those comforts were hers to want.
Wishing for them now was only selfish, no matter how much she ached with sorrow over the loss of Eli and the fear that it very easily could have been Micah or any one of his brethren—if not all of them.
Micah’s vacant gaze slid away from the dead gunman. “This has Opus written all over it.”
Nathan gave a grim nod, holding Jordana close. “We need to get back to base.”
“I’ll get the Rover,” Darion said.
