“I see her, Mother. I see her,” Demi says with trembling lips.
Her fingers are cold. Too cold. Terror stabs my heart at all sides, a fissure frantically spreading, burrowing into my bones. The damage to Demi’s body is catastrophic. She is out of time.
“Your girls need you, Demi. Chris needs you,” I sob.
All at once, Demi begins to convulse, coughing up larger heaps of blood. I wipe it from her mouth, and she smiles, whispering the softest “Thank you.”She lets her hand settle over her unborn child.
“Demi,please,” I beg with everything I have.
“Squeeze my girls tight for me.”
Heaving a final breath, Demi stills contentedly. Panic consumes me.No no no . . .
Unhooking the helmet, I cradle her head to my chest, sobbing violently. I move my hand around her stomach, feeling for a kick, for any sign of life.
It’s pointless. Both of them are lost.
When the realization hits, something inside of me—something monstrous—snaps. As I clench my blood-slicked fists, simmering rage funnels and explodes in my chest like red-hot shrapnel, bursting through all the fear, all the exhaustion, all the bereavement that the levee of my soul has been struggling to contain for years.
Blinded by white tears, I scream. Andscream. Until my voice fractures.
When I reach for the assault rifle that lays at Demi's feet, my tears fall no more. I’ve been cleaved of all feeling.
My eyes flick to the shooter, who tries to find his footing and stumbles, crying out as he lands on his shoulder at a grisly angle. Terror sends him scuttling backwards as my barrel finds the sweet spot, right between his eyes.
I pull the trigger.
Chapter 47
DOMINIK
My pace spikes at the sound of a cry loud enough to shatter windows. I fly past the dining hall, hearing three shots fired, ringing out with a piercing vengeance. Leaping down the stairs, I push harder, faster to reach the first level. When I fling the next door open, my breath catches at the sight of Vessa—a menacing bird of prey hovering over its kill.
One of the straps of her pink shift is torn, the other stained crimson, along with the rest of the tattered garment. What isn't seeped in blood is covered in bruises. Her eyes are empty. Shadows of exhaustion hang beneath the creases.
She breathes my name. It comes out hoarse. Wrathful.
My wolf squirms with anger at the grisly sight of her. Cautiously, I approach the girl who grips the rifle for dear life, thankfully scenting that the blood that clings to her isn't her own.
Her skin is chalk white, casting a faint glow. I blink, wondering if I’m imagining it. As I hold out my arms, her split lips quiver with relief. She takes a giant step into my chest, throwing her limbs around my neck. Feeling her deep exhale, I start to form words of assurance, marveling in the way shefeels against me. The agonizing bliss of her scent. But then, I recognize the blood, opening my nostrils fully. My eyes pan back a hundred yards or so, only to land on the crumpled body of my sister.
"No," I croak. I don't feel myself go slack. I don't realize that I've fallen to my knees until I'm staring at the barrel of Vessa's gun. The gun strapped to Demi's waist when she stormed in with us.
"I'm so sorry,” she whimpers.
I don't even know if I'm breathing. Tears prick my eyes. "This wasn't supposed to happen.”
Someone down the hall hurtles around the corner. In three seconds, he’s shifted, charging towards us as a wolf twice his human size.
Vessa brings the gun to her shoulder and fires at him before I can react. He goes down hard, skidding. Twitching his limbs, the beast reverts to his naked human state.
Vessa pulls me to my feet, forcing me to look into her eyes. "We need to find a way out of here. Do you think you can carry her?"
As the shock still radiates through me, I honestly don't know if I can even pull myself together to go to her.
“Fuck,” I curse.
She strokes my back for only a moment before repeating the question, emphasizing urgency. "I know. But we need to keep moving. How many rounds do you have?”
