Vampires are ripped off their feet and hurled into walls with bone-jarring force, bodies slamming hard enough to crack concrete. Others are dragged upward, pinned helplessly to the ceiling as her voice climbs higher. One vampire turns to run, and I watch in horrified fascination as his movements slow, limbs dragging through the air like he’s trapped in syrup, her song crushing the very weight of his body.
My pulse stutters, breath shallow, as something deep inside me strains toward her voice even as terror coils tight in my chest. I suddenly understand why sirens were never meant to be resisted. And yet somehow, her voice is calming me at the same damn time.
Suddenly, glass explodes inward as Reyna comes through it, and for a stunned heartbeat, I forget how to breathe. Armor flickers into existence around her mid-leap, ancient and radiant, locking into place like it always belonged there. The air shifts the moment her boots hit the floor.
Storm energy crackles from her hands, like lightning and the echo of something older. The kind of tempest that once decided the fate of armies.
She moves like she was born for this.
Every strike is precise, efficient, and devastating. Vampires fall before her in rapid succession, their attacks deflected as if they were clumsy, mortal things. I watch, transfixed, as one lunges for her throat, and she catches it mid-bite, her fingers closing around its neck without hesitation.
The storm answers, power surges down her arm in violent waves, thunder rolling through her veins. Light erupts throughher fingers, and the vampire convulses, body seizing as its insides liquefy, collapsing in on itself before she discards it like something already dead.
My pulse thunders in my ears, awe drowning out fear as a single, bone-deep truth settles over me.
I don’t know what she is…
I don’t know what any of them are…
To me, they are monsters.
Every single one of them.
And they’reutterly magnificent.
But there are too many attackers.
Even with all this power, the vampires keep coming.
And they’re not fighting like mindless creatures. They’re coordinated, tactical, and moving in formation.
Something’s wrong.
I see it in Crave’s movements. He’s fighting brilliantly, tearing through vampires with centuries of skill, but his expression is troubled and focused on something beyond the battle.
Eden appears near me, her form flickering, backing away from three vampires closing in on her position. She’s powerful, but cornered. If she unleashes her full scream, she’ll kill everyone, friend and foe alike.
The vampires know it too.
They’re grinning, fangs dripping.
No.
I don’t think, I just move.
I grab a broken chair leg from the debris and rush forward, swinging it at the nearest vampire. “Get away from her.”
The creature turns, almost amused, and backhands me casually.
The impact sends me flying across the room. I slam into a wall, and pain explodes through my entire body. The world tilts, goes fuzzy at the edges.
“Sloane!” Crave’s voice is distant and desperate.
I try to get up, but my body won’t cooperate. Through blurred vision, I see one of the vampires moving toward Eden again.
Get up, Sloane. Get. Up!
I force myself to my feet, stumbling, and position myself between Eden and the attackers. Every muscle screams in protest. Something’s broken inside me—I can feel it.
