They closed in as one, invading the Rogue nest from both directions in a chaos of smashed doors and broken windows. Every warrior was armed with an ample supply of titanium rounds, yet none of them were quick to pull their triggers as they swept inside.
Not until they were certain Lucan wasn’t among the startled pack of nearly a dozen Rogues who’d been sleeping off their recent gorging in the house they had evidently commandeered.
The place reeked of death. Several human bodies, pale from total blood loss, lay motionless on the floor of what had once been a pleasantly appointed living room. Family photos in blood-splattered frames sat on the mantel. A child’s sketchbook and brightly colored pencils had been crushed under boots caked with gore.
Based on the neighborhood, Darion guessed they were standing in a Darkhaven, although whoever the Breed family was who’d once occupied it was either slain or turned into blood-addicted monsters like the ones now crouching and hissing as the warriors invaded their den.
None of the twisted, feral faces belonged to Darion’s father.
A big male leaped toward Nathan, only to drop to the floor an instant later as the warrior shot him between the eyes. The Rogue contorted violently, howling like a banshee as the titanium did its thing.
The rest of the Rogues flew at the team now. All but one.
As Darion and his comrades ashed one after another, he caught sight of a Rogue attempting to escape down a basement stairwell in the kitchen.
Darion broke away from the others to follow the runner.
He landed at the bottom of the stairs on silent feet, pistol locked and loaded.
The Rogue was cornered, too slow to break the small window and scramble out before Darion caught up to him. Panting heavily, body rocking with the effort, the Rogue started to pivot around slowly.
Darion didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he stared at the feral, filthy face and confirmed he’d never seen the male before. Blazing amber eyes threw heat like a furnace. Behind cracked, blood-caked lips, the Rogue’s fangs were enormous, dripping thick saliva.
Darion knew he needed to shoot the poor bastard.
If not to protect more innocents from the fate of what happened to the humans upstairs, then to relieve this Breed male of his insatiable hunger and madness.
The Rogue cocked his big head, still panting hard and staring at the weapon aimed at him. Even though there was no discernible sanity in the male’s eyes, it wasn’t difficult to imagine how normal his life might have been before Red Dragon had him in its grasp.
He hadn’t asked for this torment. He didn’t deserve it. No one did.
Pull the damn trigger.
Darion hesitated another second. The indecision cost him.
The Rogue lunged, springing off his heels at him like a great cat.
From behind Darion’s shoulder, a sudden gunshot exploded. The Rogue went down, landing no more than an inch from Darion’s boot. Death took hold quickly, but not painlessly.
Darion swung around and met Tegan’s cold green gaze in the dark. “Sympathy can get you killed.”
Darion nodded once, a grim acknowledgment. In the next moment, Brock and the rest of the team came down the stairs.
“All clear up there,” Nathan said.
“Here too,” Tegan replied.
And then, a quiet rustle on the other side of the basement drew everyone’s attention.
The sound was muffled, but unmistakable. It seemed to be coming from within the wall.
Five warriors prepared to open fire, but Darion held up his hand.
He crept silently toward the area the noise had come from. Household clutter and an old art easel had been carelessly rummaged through and left where it had fallen. It blocked the access to what appeared to be a small cupboard door built into the basement wall.
With his weapon in one hand, Darion cleared the way. He reached for the metal latch and yanked open the door.
A small, pale face peered out.
