Page 184 of Shadowblood Souls: The Complete Series

Fourteen

Riva

T he silver manacles might not weigh much, but they’re starting to chafe my wrists.

I can’t stop myself from adjusting them, as little as they budge against my skin. Even with the dampening of sweat that’s forming on my arms, they barely move a fraction of an inch.

My gaze stays fixed on the mirrored high rise visible through the van’s windshield, looming farther up the street.

We parked a few minutes ago within view of the shallow courtyard outside the shiny office building. Unfortunately, to avoid looking suspicious, we had to turn off the engine.

Can’t leave the air conditioning running without wearing out the battery. We don’t know quite how long we’ll have to wait here for the moment Balthazar is counting on.

The air is already stuffy from the sunlight streaking past the downtown buildings. I wet my lips and take a sip from the bottle of water that’s also quickly warming.

Then I glance around at the guys: Jacob in the driver’s seat across from me, Andreas and Zian in the open area behind us. “Any idea what city this is?”

Andreas leans against the back of my seat. “I haven’t recognized any of the buildings. I’m not sure what kind of writing that is on the signs either.”

Zian grimaces. “If Drey hasn’t seen it before, I definitely haven’t.”

Jacob kicks restlessly at the underside of the dash and touches one of his own manacles. “It’s not like we can go out and ask anyone.”

His statement encompasses various other things he leaves unspoken. He’d like to find out. He knows that if we deviate that far from the task Balthazar has assigned us, it won’t be worth the consequences.

We’re unlikely to find anyone who’d understand us and answer us clearly before our keeper makes us regret it anyway.

Does Balthazar have another team stationed nearby, monitoring us? Employees who don’t have our abilities but could sweep in to collect us if we go off script and he needs to knock us out?

I’m not sure anymore just how valuable or not we are to him. I trusted that our former captors wouldn’t risk our lives, but Balthazar…

Balthazar might not be sane enough to worry how many tools he goes through on his way to achieving his goals. Whatever those goals are.

My teeth set against each other with an edge of tension, but the raging frustration that’s gripped me more and more in the past several days has dulled to a low simmer of anger. The longer it burns in my gut, the more I have the sense that it’s searing away everything else I might be feeling.

Like curiosity. Like defiance.

Like hope.

Does it really matter why we’re here or what Balthazar plans to accomplish if we can’t do anything about it anyway? If he’s going to keep using us and using us some more until he’s done or we die?

The dull simmer of anger burns away the queasiness of those questions too. It’s hollowing me out.

But a certain sort of clarity comes with the emptiness. I peer up and down the street, considering the instructions our captor gave us, and uncover a lingering flicker of defiance after all.

“Balthazar was right,” I say carefully. “It’s going to be hard. There’s such a limited window of time when we’ll have our chance. And we don’t know how quickly people inside will notice something’s wrong and come to help.”

Jacob studies me, his bright blue eyes sharpening like only they can. “He can’t expect us to do more than our best. We aren’t miracle-workers.”

A hint of a smile curves my lips, tight with relief that he understands. My gaze slides to the others as well. “We’ll just have to do that—give it our all.”

As I speak, I shake my head, slowly and firmly.

A matching rigid smile crosses Andreas’s lips.

Zian stares at all of us and clenches his jaw. “He’d better not be upset if he’s given us a job that’s too hard,” he mutters.

I can tell without anyone speaking another word that we all understand each other. It is a difficult job—that’s why Balthazar sent all four of us.

The first gambit only requires me and Jake. But he wanted Drey and Zee with us too in case we fail.

And if even he can admit failure is an option, then why shouldn’t we make sure of it? Why the hell should we help him if we can get away with doing the opposite?

We just have to give every appearance that we tried our hardest so he doesn’t suspect purposeful sabotage.

I lift one leg and then the other, peeling them off the increasingly sticky leather seat, and rein in my impatience as well as I can. I’m so tired of living under Balthazar’s thumb, feeling like he has it pressed against the back of my neck, shoving my face into the dirt.

Nothing I’ve done had gotten us closer to escape. This scrap of rebellion is the best I can give my guys.

Andreas rests his hand on the back of my head with a soft stroke of my hair. “We’ll get through this, Tink.”

His gentle tone sends a wavering ache through me, a pang of pain that’s consumed by the angry simmer within seconds.

He means our current captivity, not just the job ahead. He’s worried about me.

I grope for a response that might soothe his worry at least a little. The ping of the screen on the van’s dash breaks in, making my nerves jolt.

A message appears along with the sound. Target is five minutes out. Get in position.

Yes, someone on Balthazar’s team is definitely stationed nearby if they can track the man we’re waiting for that closely.

I reach up instinctively to give Drey’s hand a quick squeeze. He returns the gesture and bends to kiss the top of my head. “We’ll see you soon.”

I catch Zian’s eyes, and he bobs his head to me before pulling on a thin cloth mask to disguise his face. Then he and Andreas slip out through the van’s back doors.

They’re the ones in the most direct danger—the ones who’ll actually get close to our target if Jacob and I fail.

Not if now. When .

I swallow thickly and tuck my legs into a crossed position. Jacob lets out a huff and jabs at the controls. “We can get away with a few minutes of air conditioning. Who can think when it’s this stuffy?”

I don’t protest as a hiss of cool air gusts over my skin. I do need to concentrate—maybe even harder on messing up the mission than on seeing it through successfully.

Today, Balthazar doesn’t want me to kill anyone. I’m supposed to hold them with my scream but not give in to the hunger for pain.

I’ve never actually tried that effect with people before, only the animals Matteo had me practice on. But I suspect Balthazar won’t be too upset if I slip and mangle a security officer or two.

As long as we get him whatever’s in that fucking briefcase he wants so much.

Too bad. Not happening. We don’t have to dance to his tune in every possible way.

The vibration of a scream tickles at the base of my throat. The fury that feeds it is aimed at our captor, not the strangers he’s set us against, but it’ll fuel the power in whatever direction I decide to aim it.

I rest my hands on my lap, flex them, and clench them. Jacob watches me, his gaze penetrating enough that I can feel it even when I have my head turned toward the street.

“Our powers keep expanding,” he says. “Whatever we can do now, we have no idea what we might be capable of in another week or two.”

He’s trying to reassure me too. To stoke my hopes.

Jacob of all people is attempting to play the optimist. The knowledge gnaws at me more than Andreas’s expected tenderness did.

I give a brusque nod without looking at him. “I know. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

Like we already have been. While Dominic lies in his transparent coffin and Balthazar orchestrates who knows what other terrors, and we just sit there helplessly, ready to jump when he calls?—

The thrum of an engine cuts through my bitter reverie. When a black limousine cruises into view, I sit up straighter in my seat.

This will be him. The man with the briefcase—I haven’t got a name.

Jacob braces himself in his seat too. We follow the limo’s course as it slows in front of the mirrored building and pulls up next to the courtyard.

My heart thumps fast but steady. Here we go.

The limo stops completely. The driver will be putting it into park.

One door opens and then another. Three broad-shouldered men in subdued suits clamber out first and form a protective ring around the fourth man who emerges from within.

A briefcase swings in the fourth’s hand, secured to his wrist by a handcuff. One he chose to wear to ensure the case never left his possession, not like our manacles.

A fresh prickle of anger jabs through the constant simmer. My lips part as the shriek reverberates up my throat.

I don’t have any trouble doing it near-silently now, like a breath expelled. The trick is moderating the impact.

I aim it at all four of the men and the driver in the car for good measure, to show I’ve been thorough. With a tremor over my tongue, my power smacks into them and locks them in place.

The itch to snap bones and tear flesh, to provoke the pain some part of me craves, digs in deep. My body tenses against it.

The men lurch and stiffen. In the next instant, a few armed guards charge out of the building toward them.

My pulse hiccups, and I almost lose my self-control. No one inside should have realized anything was wrong that quickly.

Unless they were alerted ahead of time. The faint tingle on my collarbone tells me that Andreas has ventured farther than expected, right into the building.

He’ll have turned himself invisible, as was always part of the plan, but there are plenty of ways he could sound the alarm even in that state.

As Jacob pushes forward in his seat to fulfill his role, my lips twitch into a more genuine smile. One thing has already gone wrong in an unexpected way.

Balthazar definitely can’t expect us to come out of this job victorious now.

Jacob makes a show of trying anyway. His arm shoots out, his power wrenching at the briefcase and the cuff.

A shiver of pain courses into me with his cracking of the man’s hand. I drink it in, watching the cuff yank free of the crumpled mass.

The briefcase heaves up into the air?—

And is tackled by one of the guards who hurtled over. The burly man slams the case and its contents to the ground.

Jacob bares his teeth and lets out a grunt, but we don’t want to drag the man straight to us.

Good. It’s all good.

I keep up my stream of muted sound, clutching tighter around my targets. The other guys have to try too. I can’t let go too soon… or too late.

Zian barrels into the courtyard, his bulky body moving impossibly fast for his size—at least, it’d be impossible if he were an ordinary human being. He crashes into the guard who pinned the briefcase, rolling both the man and the object over.

That’s Andreas’s cue. He’s supposed to run in there invisibly and snatch up the case.

But the other guards are drawing their guns. Zian jerks to the side just as shots boom.

My lungs constrict. Now?

Yes—now, before they hurt him. Before they?—

I snap my mouth shut, cutting off the scream. The previously cuffed man crumples with a wail as he cradles his smashed hand.

His security detail whirls around, drawing their own guns. Zian bolts for the parked limo to duck around it as shelter.

Bullets thunder after him. There’s no way Andreas could spring into the fray now, not without catching one of those projectiles in his invisible body.

The guard who grabbed the briefcase scoops it up and dashes for the building’s door, other men racing with him, a couple pursuing Zian. Zee stays low, running around the limo and then on toward the van.

My hand flies to the door. What if we’ve gone too far—what if they catch him or the rest of us before we can drive off?

Dominic can’t heal us now.

Is this how the job is going to end? Roaring off with bullets pelting after us, knowing nothing more than we did before?

My frustration surges, and I throw open the door. Only two men—I can take them without even a scream, guns or not.

I can say I leapt out to defend Zian, but if I can grab a badge or a name tag, anything with a logo or some information that would at least tell me who they might be working for or why they’re important… If I can buy Andreas enough time to paw through their memories…

Maybe all this effort will actually be worth it.

The men see me. One raises his gun to point it my way instead of at Zian’s retreating form.

As I lunge at him, I can’t tell if I even care whether he shoots me or not. At least I won’t have to worry about failing in all sorts of other ways if my journey ends here.

I collide with him, knocking his gun hand to the side. My clawed fingers scrape over his suit in search of a lump in a pocket that might be revealing.

Shouts blare from somewhere farther away. Footsteps smack the tiles in the courtyard.

I ram the man’s arm against the sidewalk and snarl at him. “Who are you?”

Somewhere not-that-distant, the safety clicks off a gun. Fuck them. Fuck all of them.

I need answers, or what’s the point of fighting to stay alive anyway?

The man stares up at me, uncomprehending. Then solid arms wrap around me from behind.

I stagger backward in a determined embrace I recognize as Drey’s. My limbs start to thrash out—he’s pulling me away from my goal, my only chance to make this moment worth something?—

His voice murmurs in my ear, low and ragged. “Please. Riva, please.”

The desperation of the plea unravels me. I sag in his grasp for long enough that his invisible form can haul me into the van, just as the next round of shots ring out.

“Go— go! ” Zian shouts, and Jacob hits the gas.

As the van tears off down the road, Andreas wavers back into sight, his expression taut as he cups my face. A whiff of frightened pheromones tickles my nose, and a matching emotion shivers through our bond.

As if he’s more scared now, after we’ve raced away from the threat, than he was in the middle of it.

“Don’t do that again,” he says hoarsely. “That wasn’t—you didn’t need to?—”

My body curls in on itself, my claws still out as I hug my arms across my chest. My voice has barely any more sound than my scream. “I didn’t want it to all be for nothing.”

“It wasn’t. It never would be. Not while we’re here with you.”

I don’t know how much he understands what I was trying to do or why. But as the van sways around a bend, the anger in me simmers on, eating up any ability I have to believe that he’s right.

We won, but we also lost. Again.

How many more times can I do this before there’s nothing left inside me to care at all?