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“I’ll never let you go!” Vladimir roared in fury.

Urgent shouts rose from above. Footsteps rolled toward them as the Lama yelled at the warrior monks.

“The Lama didn’t order the shot,” Vladimir interpreted. “He’s trying to sort out which son of a bitch shot you.” He cranked his head and shouted. “We surrender! Hurry up if you want your scroll!”

Lucienne choked a miserable laugh.

“You’ll be all right. Hang in there,” Vladimir begged. “We’ll live to see another day, and I’ll get your scroll back.” He shouted again, “Lama, you want your damned scroll or not? If we fall, we’ll destroy it!”

“Vlad,” Lucienne’s voice grew weaker. Her strength was bleeding away. “Our hook is on the other side.”

By the time the monks finally brought them to the surface, she’d be dead because of blood loss. Time was running out, and from Vladimir’s tormented look, she knew he knew it, too.

“Get ready, Lucia,” Vladimir said. “I’ll toss you up to the ground toward the monk’s side. It will hurt. You might break a rib or two, but you’ll live. You must live!”

Vladimir started swinging her. Lucienne gritted her teeth at the pain. The hook from the ground began to move. “Stop!” Lucienne screamed. Vladimir might succeed in swinging her up to safety, but the hook would surely give, and he would fall. “I’ll not reach the top without you. I’ll jump back after you,” she said, “If you truly care about me, you let me gonowand save yourself.” She twisted her hand, attempting to break free. His grip only tightened.

“Stop! Listen to me!” he yelled.

The hook skittered toward the edge again. In less than a minute, it would give way and they would both fall.

“I’m sorry, Lucia,” Vladimir said in a tender voice. “I love you and always will.”

And with that, he swung her up.

CHAPTER FOUR

Lucienne’s heart pounded hard in her chest at Vladimir’s profession of love—though the timing couldn’t be worse—and the joy swelling inside her knocked down the horrendous pain for a moment. Using every ounce of her strength, Lucienne brought her other arm up. She caught Vladimir’s hand that was gripping her wrist.

Jed would be disappointed if he knew how she was handling her survival—she wouldn’t sacrifice Vladimir. She was the new Siren. He had finally found an heir. He’d be enormously angry. Her mind skirted to Kian. He would be devastated and probably would never recover from the blow of her death. And her nanny would cry endlessly. But Lucienne had made her choice.

“You aren’t getting rid of me, Vladimir Blazek,” she said.

Her declaration was drowned out by thunder. The monks above screamed in Tibetan, running away from the chasm. A second later, Lucienne realized that the thunder was from a helicopter. Then ear-piercing gunshots rained hellfire from above.

The bat hook made one last jerk and slipped toward the chasm.

Lucienne felt the fall again. She wanted to say something to Vladimir, something remarkable to overshadow her hollow death, but words escaped her. She only managed to whisper, “Vlad.”

Her whisper was lost in the sounds of a military helicopter flying above them. It was an AH-64D Apache Longbow. Tears streaked down her face when she saw Kian McQuillen’s remarkable silhouette.

With his feet fastened to the landing skid of the attack helicopter, Kian dove. His left hand caught the claws of the bat hook that slipped toward the chasm.

The helicopter climbed up and banked off the chasm.

Orlando, her other protector and Kian’s longtime friend, squatted at the other side of the cabin door, his sniper rifle shooting at the warrior monks to keep them at bay.

“Kian, you came,” Lucienne whimpered. With the arrival of her elite warriors, she and Vladimir were safe at last.

“Lucia, hang in there!” Kian shouted over the gunshots.

“She’s shot. She’s lost too much blood!” Vladimir shouted. “She needs to get to a medic within two minutes!”

“Speed up!” Kian yelled toward the pilot inside the helicopter. “Damn it! The Siren’s hurt!”

The helicopter picked up speed. The magnificent monastery, the valley, and the warrior monks fell away in a blur. Lucienne vaguely remembered passing a river but couldn’t remember its name. Cold occupied her mind like an endless fog. She had never thought cold could be worse than pain, but it was—it was numbing her will to stay alive. If Vladimir’s warm hand hadn’t gripped hers so tightly, she’d have been reduced to pieces of ice.

“We’ll go no further,” Kian ordered. “Clear any barrier.”