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“Monique.” She said again.

I looked over at the mortal woman dying in the street. Her skin was waxy ash, breathing slow, pulse thready. She was turned partially on her side. I didn’t have to see her neck to know Tiffany had savaged it in the fury of blood lust. I’ve caused a lot of death and have seen more I wasn’t directly responsible for. A death like this was a slow fading away, with no energy to scream or fight. She was tall, lean but muscled. A thin metal club hung from a strap on one wrist, brass knuckles were woven through her fingers in the other. I smiled. A good choice for a fighter. This was an unfortunate way for a fighter to die.

Her lips were moving as she made weak, failed attempts to get up. If I hadn’t been a vampire, I would have never heard “Tiffany” escape on one of her last breaths.

Fuck.

“We have to get you out of here.” I turned back to the actual problem. A vampire killing mortals on Veronica’s doorstep was not the kind of chaos anyone wanted. If anyone saw, Tiffany would be declared rogue. There would be consequences of this. Even Lachlan’s brash confidence might not be enough to fix this if she was discovered. If I had to guess, Lachlan was off dealing with one of those consequences right now.

“Monique.” Tiffany rasped again, her voice as shaky as her grip on the blade.

Fuck.

They knew each other.

That should have been patently obvious from the stark terror that settled around Tiffany. Most vampires kill their first meals after being made. You don’t know your strength or the power blood now has over you. Killing always takes a toll. Killing someone you love…

“Save Monique.” Tiffany tore her eyes away from the blood bubbling around her fingers. The woman was going to die. Her teeth were gritted, clamped down hard enough to crack her fangs.

I gently held her hands and slid the knife out. She groaned at the fresh pain making me wince. She fumbled for the dagger, her fingers biting into my palm.

“If she dies, you’re going to have to kill me.” She spat the words out like a dirty promise. My gut twisted. I let the dagger clatter to the ground.

I twisted in my crouch. The street was empty. I knew there was no surveillance here. Most people came and went via the parking garage. A car was parked at the curb, a blue Toyota Camry. It belonged to the mortal. It suited her.

I picked up the woman. Monique. She seemed the type to throw a round house at me just for witnessing her vulnerability. I settled her in the passenger seat, reclining it all the way back. We didn’t need gravity fighting with the blood loss. I pulled the hoodie up around her face, hiding the wound. I leaned all the way over her to retrieve the keys.

Tiffany was curled in a protective ball, groaning softly. I brushed hair from her face. There was a simple beauty about her, despite the pain sharpening her features. I picked her up, pressing my cheek to her temple. Something was not right here. Even in the clutches of blood lust, she shouldn’t be experiencing this kind of pain.

I clicked the key fob twice and wedged the lid of the trunk wide. I balanced Tiffany on a knee to pull out the emergency kit and gym bag. I settled Tiffany in the trunk, she curled around her abused hand. I shut the lid with a soft click. Tiffany would deck me for putting her in the trunk. But not too hard when she learns I drove like the hounds of hell were chasing me to save Monique’s life.

FIFTY-THREE

LACHLAN

Tiffany was gone. Just gone.

I shouldn’t have left her alone with that mortal woman. A bloody dagger was the only evidence anyone had been here. I picked it up, tasting the cooling blood on the edge. Tiffany. That aching wound in my chest open wide to swallow me.

My God, a blood-lust vampire running loose in Manhattan.

She was hurt. It was my fault.

I stood and faced Ruelle, my mind racing with the possibilities of what could have happened to her.

If Veronica had...

My vision dimmed along the edges. White-hot rage poured into me, consuming everything, blacking out everything around me, blacking out everyone, even this grief and despair that I wasn’t sure I could live without.

The door to the club creaked open, the sound slicing through the silence. Vapid electronic music spilled out, taunting me.

“Lachlan.” He was vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t focus on anything other than Tiffany. His face brightened, then fell when I didn’t return his greeting.

“What’s happening inside?” If Tiffany went in there, if someone took her in there... Veronica would be making a whole fucking scene about it.

“The usual bullshit. Veronica is ranting about stolen property. That bitch is crazy.” I remembered this guy now. He pledged to the family on Tribute Day and lacked any sense of self-preservation, but that didn’t matter now. I needed to find Tiffany.

“What’s your name again?”

“Juan Carlos.” He perked up at even just the tease of my favor.

“Right. Here’s what I want from you.” I shifted the dagger to my back pocket. I needed it to hurt whoever hurt Tiffany. “I want you to go back in there and get me all the information you can about any newly made vampires in the city. Anyone new joining families.”

If Tiffany is inside, there would be chaos.

“Oh yeah, sure, man. I can do that.” He was giddy at the chance to prove his worth. He awkwardly stood there until it dawned on him that I meantnow. He marched back into the club, excited to have a purpose.

I couldn’t lose her, not now, not ever.

I’d burn this city to the ground to find her. It didn’t matter how many heads I had to take along the way.