“Yeah. You’re welcome.”
“Didn’t think you liked me that much.”
“I don’t.”
Derek steps up and applies a quick pressure bandage on Luca’s shoulder, then we drop down the open hatch into the truck’s interior.
“Good stuff.” Preston places a hand on my shoulder.
The world narrows to cold walls and the sound of Luca’s labored breathing.
He teeters, and I catch his arm before he can fall.
“Don’t you dare pass out on me.”
“I’ll try to stay conscious for your sake, sweetheart,” he rasps.
Smartass. Even while bleeding.
Luca’s still alive. Still here. And I made sure of that.
No way am I letting this vampire be the reason I fail.
The inside of the transport truck is a stripped-down vault—steel walls lined with welded racks, crates strapped down tight with military-grade netting. The stolen prototype weapons are here. I can feel it.
But we don’t have time to celebrate. My comm crackles.
“Rear guard van is on the move,” Noah’s voice comes through, sharp and clipped. “ETA ninety seconds.”
“Copy,” I whisper, already moving.
Luca sways, grabbing one of the crates for balance. Blood still drips down his arm but he motions toward the vault door leading to the cab. “You go. I’ll cover the gear.”
I don’t argue.
I sprint down the aisle, scanning crates as I go. Looking for matching model numbers as they’re shown in my HUD.
“Thirty seconds,” Noah calls. “I’ve locked the driver’s route, but they’ll override it soon.”
“Buy us more time,” Jace snaps.
The truck jolts. I crash into a crate as something explodes nearby.
They’re trying to stop us.
The back doors shudder, then there’s a horrible screeching sound as they are ripped open—not by force, but by tech. Someone has hacked the electronic seal.
Two men in black-clad armor climb in, guns raised.
My body moves before my brain can catch up. I grab a crowbar off the rack and hurl it, nailing one in the chest. He staggers back. The other fires.
The blast sears past me, slamming into the wall. I duck, roll, and kick a crate toward him—it knocks his legs out, just enough for me to lunge. My knife finds the space between his armor plates. He screams, and I yank it out.
“On your right!” Max yells.
Another attacker, this one from the upper vent.Seriously?I whirl just in time to block a strike from his shock baton. It jolts up my arms and I bite my tongue. Holding in a scream.
He comes again. This time, I duck, catch his wrist, and twist hard. The baton drops. I headbutt him—helmet to visor—and he collapses with a grunt.
