37

Alexander flashed to the front gates of the Manhattan credenti, taking Lucian and Nicholas with him. Grazing his fangs against his wrist, he waited for the blood to flow. When it leaked red and strong from the puncture wounds, he ran it along the iron lock. As the gates disengaged and swung slowly back, Alexander readied himself, weapons drawn. His attempt to keep Sara out of his thoughts kept failing. Even as he ran, quietly and stealthily through the parklike setting inside the credenti grounds, he thought about his mouth on her, his tongue. He’d lapped at the tips of her teeth and had felt something . . . something disturbing, yet something that had made his body roar with lust.

A loose canine.

How was that possible? Had she told him the truth about ingesting his blood—

“Two recruits at ten feet,” hissed Lucian as they headed away from the guards and past a small field of snow-dotted crops. “Shadows everywhere. Watch yourselves.”

Alexander resumed his course around the field.

Snaking to the right, Nicholas gestured with the barrel of his gun. “The Barracks.”

Alexander’s gaze shot to the long stretch of housing in the distance. Shit. That’s what he’d seen in Trainer’s mind. Row upon row of rooms . . .

“He’s holding members in there,” Alexander said. “Let’s go.”

Alexander took off at top speed, the brothers following him across the field, over a small rise before stopping short just a few feet from the Barracks doors. A line of at least ten recruits blocked their way—ready and waiting, weapons drawn.

“Kill or be killed, duros,” Alexander called as he ran straight at them, flying, firing, dodging knives and bullets, taking down two recruits before he was even on the ground again.

He leaped at a recruit, slamming them both to the icy grass, narrowly missing being skewered by the ten-inch blade in the Impure’s fist. He rolled them both until he was on top, then smashed his elbow into the male’s face, grabbed the knife, and plunged it into his heart. Flashes of gunfire echoed to Alexander’s left and he jumped to his feet, taking a quick assessment of his brothers and the damage done. Nicholas was firing on a cluster of three recruits who circled him, while Lucian was pounding his fist into an Impure’s side.

With four recruits dead, Alexander knew his brothers could handle the remaining six. He signaled to them, letting them know he was going in, going to find Dare, end this fucking nightmare once and for all. He stalked toward the Barracks, firing on one Impure who got in his path. But another bastard came from behind and ran his knife straight into the back of Alexander’s leg, grinding it all the way down to his calf. Hissing, Alexander reached back with his gun and took the Impure out with one shot to the head. Undeterred, limping slightly, he slammed the doors of the Barracks open and stalked inside.

Training his guns on anything that moved, Alexander passed by credenti living quarters, small, barely furnished rooms filled with veanas and pavens, Impures and Purebloods, all huddled together looking terrified.

Alexander sniffed the air.

Where are you? Where are you?

In one room he passed, a young veana around ten years old caught his gaze and gestured to the room across the hall. Alexander nodded at the brave one, then changed course.

But before he reached the door, a massive Impure jumped out and clocked him in the face, then triple punched him in the gut. Grunting, Alexander fought to stay upright, fought his desire to shoot the shit out of the Impure and the room behind him. He scented Dare, but the half-breed wasn’t alone. There were veanas , innocents with him, some heavy with their swell. He had to take the perfect shot.

He heard the scramble of feet, movement behind the huge Impure, and when the paven dove at him, two knives in his fists, Alexander slammed his head into the paven’s gut, then quick as a blink, reached around the male’s body with both Glocks and fired. Alexander heard a gasp, then a female’s terrified cry as Dare went down.

“Holy shit,” he heard Lucian snarl behind him.

Guns in his fist, Alexander rolled sideways, ready for more, but the huge Impure was up, rushing at Dare’s still body. Before Alexander could react, the Impure threw himself over Dare in a bear hug and they vanished.

No!” Alexander roared, raising his guns and firing into the floor where Dare’s body had just been.

As the innocents scattered like rats, Nicholas grabbed Alexander’s wrists. “Stop. Christ. He’s gone.”

“The recruits!” Alexander shouted, whirling around, ready for Dare or his Impures to flash, return.

“All dead, Duro,” Lucian assured him. “It’s done.”

Breathing heavy, Alexander took in the sight before him, all the vampires in the Barracks, young and old staring at him with wide, frightened eyes. Was it done? Was it? He turned back to his brothers, who looked like they’d been playing soccer with their faces, and growled fiercely, “There’s no body.”

“They’ll have to know he’s dead,” Lucian said, eyeing Nicholas for confirmation. Nicholas nodded. “Dare was stone cold. The Order will know.”

Fuck, Alexander wanted to believe that. He stared at the both of them, his younger brothers whom he loved. Everything they’d known, everything they’d enjoyed for the past hundred years was gone. Peace had become war, and the days of self-governing had been given over to the ones who ruled without thought. The Order, the credenti, the Eternal Breed as a whole had become part of their lives now, and Alexander feared that even if he stopped the premorphing of his brothers, the connection to this old life and new world would not be severed.

“We need to take inventory,” he said, his tone commanding and controlled once again. “Sweep the entire area and make sure no recruits remain. Then we must see to the veanas and their balas, find out where they belong and to whom. After that, we’ll return home.” He turned his focus on Nicholas and frowned. “To wait and to watch.”

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