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I exchanged a nervous sidelong glance with Elijah, unable to help myself. He didn’t look any happier than I felt. Abruptly, oursurroundings felt a lot more sinister than they had a few minutes ago.

“Is that really a concern?” Elijah asked. Now he was scanning our surroundings with a worried look as well.

“Almost certainly not,” Gabriel said.

Curran scoffed. “Don’t mind us. It’s just part of the job description for the bodyguards of a rich bastard with more money than sense.”

“Someone would have to be awfully organized to try anything before the vans get here,” Onyx offered.

And so, we waited—flanked by the two bodyguards and the rich bastard with more money than sense. Curran and Onyx kept a watchful eye around us, but neither of them seemed unduly worried.

We were left alone to wait. TheCalliope’sowner had disappeared onto his boat, presumably to check that we hadn’t trashed it before we got away from him. I tried hard not to think about the various bodily fluids that might have escaped the others’ cleanup efforts. Further down the dock, a couple of smaller vessels had groups of people gathered around, but they were too far away for their chatter to be more than the faintest of background noise.

As the minutes ticked by with no random Greek criminals jumping out at us to hit us over the head and steal our luggage, I gradually relaxed. Even so, when a pair of white vans pulled up to the edge of the docks around twenty minutes later, it was a relief.

Curran jerked his chin at Onyx, indicating they should go try to talk to the drivers. “The rest of you, stay here,” he told us.

Gabriel, whether purposely or in response to some subconscious alpha instinct, stepped in front of Elijah and me. His shoulders were relaxed, and his scent was normal—but his attention didn’t waver from his two employees as they approached the vans.

When the pair were maybe five steps away from the closer of the two vehicles, several things happened in quick succession.

All four doors swung open in unison, and several rough looking men swarmed out of the vans. One man lifted something dark and metallic with a terrifyingly familiar silhouette, resting his forearm through the open passenger side window of the van door he was sheltering behind. Curran lunged toward him, and Gabriel cursed sharply, raising his arms as though to cage us closer behind him.

In the same instant, a muffled noise like someone striking two pieces of metal together sliced through the distant hubbub of people going about their work elsewhere on the docks. Gabriel staggered, a warm splash of liquid spraying across my cheek.

TWENTY-NINE

Emma

“FUCK!” CURRAN SNARLED, lunging for the van door and slamming into it with his full weight. It swung closed, crushing the gunman against the vehicle’s frame. Curran grabbed the man’s wrist—still protruding through the open window—and wrestled a handgun with a silencer from his slackened grip.

I was paralyzed, standing slack-jawed behind Gabriel. The blond alpha fell to one knee, clutching his left arm. He tried to rise again, only to trip over his own feet and collapse onto his side a moment later.

“Rosebud, Absinthe—run!” Curran shouted. “Get help! We’ll hold them off!”

He swung around, pointing the business end of the gun at the goon charging toward him from the other side of the van. Another muffled retort, and the goon dropped. By the other van, Onyx was fighting two men with knives, putting the sharpened dagger from the tourist shop to good use.

Elijah stood frozen for a bare instant before breaking himself free. “Em, come on!”

He sprinted toward the distant figures working around the other boats in the dock, screaming, “Help! We need help!” at the top of his lungs.