Page 2 of Descent (Fractured Diamonds Saga #4)

“Cirs…” I hear it faintly, from behind me. Without looking, I back into the gap between two shops. I smell the tang of blood before I turn around and find my cousin slumped against the wall behind a dumpster, her face slick with sweat and pale as death.

“Art…” I hiss, checking her side. It’s bad.

“We got set up,” Artemis gasps.

“No shit,” I mumble, looping my arm under hers. “Can you?—”

“Yeah, but we gotta get off the street…”

“Train station is just up the way,” I start but she shakes her head violently.

“No, Circe. We need to disappear. Full blackout.”

“You’re not thinking clearly. Let’s put distance between us and the?—”

“No. We need to go underground. Now.”

Trusting the fear I see in her eyes, I nod and get us moving.

Shouldering the majority of her weight, I hustle us through a few twists and turns.

We make it inside an apartment complex through the back, up to the roof, across the terrace, and onto the adjoining building.

“Alright, rest for a minute. Talk to me.”

Art huffs for breath, shaking her head. A tear runs down her cheek, but I know she’s been wounded worse than this gunshot before.

The coiling panic hits me like a fist in the gut. Tilting my head, I catch her eye. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Before I lost my phone…I got a message from Ares. He’s dead, Circe. It was his death note.”

Deeper dread writhes in my stomach.

“Zeus’s message came right after that. Other hits gone awry, contacts compromised.”

My eyes widen as the scope of her statement settles over me. We’ve been betrayed. Likely by the clients who hired us. Or a mole.

Lifting Artemis again, I stumble toward the door to the stairs along the lip of the rooftop.

“Come on you lazy bitch, use your legs,” I grumble, but the humor in my voice is strained.

Art’s head lolls to the side against my shoulder, her legs tangling.

I stop to catch her, to catch my breath, and I feel the chill run up my spine. Instinct announces the presence of enemies before I see them. Six officers in full tactical gear, fanning out from cover around us.

“Run,” Artemis whispers, her voice thready and weak.

“No,” I hiss, trying to assess our odds of making the leap to the next roof. “Together, always.”

But her eyes catch mine, steel hardening.

Time slows down to a crawl as I watch her visibly force the pain down, shoving me away toward the door. My foot catches on a crack in the tiles and I pitch forward, falling. My eyes never leave her.

Her hands blur into her coat, drawing her twin Desert Eagles.

Each gun rings out three times. Her shots are perfect. Except for one.

An automatic rifle crackles.

My head snaps to the side, ears thrumming with concussive pressure. Something is wrong with my arms, my legs.

All I can do is watch as Artemis jerks, catching the low wall at the back of her knees, her eyes widening in shock. At the pain of the bullet in her chest. At the open air behind her as her hands fling back to brace, finding nothing.

And she’s gone.

I don’t register the sound of her body hitting the pavement below.

I don’t hear the scream tearing from my throat.

I don’t feel the agony of another bullet clip my shoulder as the last ERT officer fires at me because I suddenly find myself on my feet dashing toward him.

I only feel rage. Pure hell pours from my heart and into the bastard before me.

My knee slams into his chest, taking him to the ground. My knuckles rip across his facemask, crack his goggles. My whole world darkens, blinding black and red.

When my vision clears, the man’s gore-drenched helmet drops from my aching fingers, what’s left of his face and shattered skull a blur through tears.

Blood blinds me in one eye, pouring down my face.

“ H?nde, wo wir sie sehen konnen! Hands up!” A bark sounds from behind me.

More of them. My mind drags through sludge trying to piece together what I am supposed to do next. Fight? Run?

But I’m bone-tired. My chest feels caved in.

So I just sit there, straddling my cousin’s killer as rough hands grab my wrists, zip-tie them behind me. I barely hear the words and warnings rattling off in German.

I barely notice when the voice cuts off, followed by several more grunts of pain and surprise.

Gentle fingers draw me back to reality, lifting my blood-spattered chin. Looking up, my eyes focus on a face, a beautiful, chiseled visage framed by deep red hair. She looks familiar, but my brain won’t make the connection.

Like I’m missing the lines linking certain dots in my memories.

“My poor dear,” a voice like velvet-lined granite purrs. “What happened to you?”

My throat tightens as I try to form a thought, a response.

“Shh…I know. Someone went to an awful lot of trouble to see you dead, along with all of your brethren. But I can help you right that wrong. Help you find the one responsible.”

“W-who are you?” I whisper.

“I am the person who you were sent here to kill.” Her eyes harden as she levels me with a vicious stare. “The target used to set you up.”

Sinking dread makes my legs watery, shaky.

“And I am the one who will give you a purpose and take your pain away.”