Running full speed in a half crouch, I crossed the road and cleared the entry steps of the mansion in seconds flat, not worrying about Valens or if he was still following me. All that mattered was my charges and their safety.
The luxurious surroundings blurred into shades of beige as I bolted for the stairs, pausing only to listen before charging down to the basement.
I stopped again as I peered around the doorframe out into the basement area, but all the lights were off.
Shit, someone cut the power.
The panic room was self-sustaining for a full forty-eight hours, even without external power, which meant as long as thewomen were inside, they were fine. But that meant I was on my own to deal with whoever might be down here. It could also be a simple wolf-pack disagreement; the Vargas had made many enemies, and there were disgruntled packs all around us.
It was a sad day when the best-case scenario was that your neighbors were so pissed off, they’d come cut the power and raise hell.
I crept out of the stairwell into the darkness, my wolf’s sharper vision letting me see across the cavernous space to the closed panic room door.
A subtle red dot of light on the ground below the door let me know two things: it was secured, and it was occupied. If it were empty, the light would be green. If it had been breached, the light would be off. Knowing that, I breathed a little easier as I worked around the perimeter of the basement.
This particular panic room had been protected with antiflashing wards, among others, etched directly into the metal. Which meant that even if we were under attack by a warlock or fae, no one was getting through that door without heavy-duty power tools.
I quickly cleared the first room, which was full of spare decor. The next was full of broken gym equipment, and while a dangling punching bag startled me, nothing jumped out to attack. I stayed alert as I reentered the main open basement area, glancing across the space to where two more shadowy rooms waited. If those were also clear, there was nothing down here but the panic room, and I could stand guard until the rest of the town was cleared by the Hungarian pack.
I only made it halfway through the next door before a gleaming sword arced toward my head.
Leaping back, I parried the downward blow with difficulty. Whoever swung that sword was magically overpowered, or they were just hoping to take my head off quickly. Perhaps both.
I waited, tense and ready to strike just outside the doorway, where I had room to maneuver and they’d be at a disadvantage. But the blow didn’t come from ahead as I was prepared for. It came in the form of a garrote slipped over my head from behind.
On instinct, I switched my sword to a single-hand grip, inserting my other hand between my throat and the deadly black wire. I stopped it before he could dig it into my flesh and strangle me, barely.
My thoughts ran in short, staccato bursts, fueled by fight-or-flight instincts.
At least two attackers. One armed with a blade. One choking me from behind.
A quick analysis of the situation, and I didn’t have time to delay. When you were outnumbered, action always beat inaction. Not to mention the garrote around my neck was a ticking time bomb. Less oxygen meant less fuel to my muscles. Eventually, I would lose if I didn’t get free, and the longer it took, the poorer my odds of survival.
Grip firm on the wire, I lunged forward, temporarily increasing the pressure on my windpipe as I swept my sword around behind his legs, then throwing my full body weight backward, taking us both down to the hard marble floor, despite the would-be-choker’s height advantage.
There was a satisfying crack as my attacker’s skull met the ground, and the rope went suddenly slack in my grip. I snatched it free and leap-rolled to the side, getting clear of his range of motion before he could regain his balance. My brain cataloged details as my body scrambled for oxygen.
Medium height, nondescript black clothing,verywell trained in hand-to-hand combat.Drakenia assassin. I knew at least one had already attacked the pack. It was one of the reasons Galyna and I had been put on the job in the first place.
By the time my mental catalog was done, I was back on my feet, but so was he, and his sword-wielding friend had used the distraction to emerge from the room. They were both males, black clad from head to toe and heavily armed. The two of them began to go wide, circling around me. If they could split my attention, they’d have the upper hand. So I couldn’t let them.
I lifted my sword and charged the one I’d taken to the ground, betting he was still slightly disoriented from the blow to the back of the head. Meanwhile, I flung the garrote at the second attacker’s face, whipping the end as I released it so it would spin end over end.
The taller one’s reactions were still whip-sharp, though, and he blocked my swing with a forearm-length dagger.
These fuckers are stronger than they should be.
They looked human and may have been wearing scent blockers, because even my wolf couldn’t get a read on their species.
The pieces clicked together, and the first trickle of fear entered my bloodstream. One Drakenia assassin could easily take out two to three attackers alone. So why send two? Whoever had sent them wasn’t taking any chances.
Despite the odds, though, I couldn’t run. My charges were in that safe room, and I would hold this ground until backup came or my lifeblood soaked the marble.
The low notes of a battle song began to twirl through my mind, and out of habit, I sang. It settled me in a way little else did, making this feel like practice instead of life and death.
When the shorter assassin came in low from the side, I was ready. I jumped straight up, striking downward with my sword and catching the tip on his shoulder as he skidded beneath me. It sank in enough for me to know I’d hurt him, which was a good start.
His friend with the headache aimed high, tossing one of his two daggers straight at my throat.
