Page 6 of Donovan

Asher used to be the logical one. The steady one. But after Finn disappeared, something inside him cracked.

He stopped thinking things through. Stopped being careful. Recklessness replaced reason.

It was like I didn’t even know him anymore.

And then there was Declan.

I’d known him for too long, understood him too well.

He wasn’t the kind of person to just disappear.

Something was wrong. I felt it in my bones.

“Donovan.”

Kit’s voice snapped me back to the present. He was crouched a few feet away, eyes sharp despite the darkness.

A fresh scar cut across his jaw, another reminder that I was supposed to be watching his back, not obsessing over something I couldn’t control.

I forced my grip to tighten around the hilt of my hunting knife instead of my phone.

“I’m good,” I told him.

Kit didn’t look convinced, but he nodded and turned his attention back toward the farmhouse.

The intel had been solid. There was a nest here, a small one, maybe four or five vampires, but numbers didn’t matter if we weren’t careful.

Our squad leader, Beckett, signaled from across the field.Move in.

We advanced, boots silent against the frostbitten earth. The team fanned out, slipping inside the rotting structure through different entry points.

My heartbeat should have been steady. This wasn’t my first hunt. It wasn’t even my tenth. But my pulse was erratic, my mind still elsewhere.

I shouldn’t be here.

I should be out there, tracking Declan and Asher down, figuring out why the hell they weren’t answering their phones.

A flicker of movement. A shadow where there shouldn’t be one.

I barely reacted in time.

The vampire lunged, a blur of speed and snarling fangs, and I wasn’t ready.

I stumbled back, my knife slipping in my grip. Pain exploded along my ribs as I hit the floor, the wind knocked clean out of me.

I struggled to raise my weapon, but claws raked across my shoulder before I could bring it up in time.

A blade flashed. A whoosh of steel cutting through the air.

Kit.

The vampire hissed as Kit’s knife sliced through its shoulder, staggering back just long enough for me to drive my blade up through its ribs, twisting deep.

The vampire went limp, collapsing against me before I shoved it off. Kit hauled me to my feet, his grip tight, his breath coming fast.

“Donovan, what the hell is wrong with you?” he demanded, barely keeping his voice low. “You almost got your throat ripped out!”

I was still breathing hard, my shoulder burning where the claws had torn through fabric and skin.