Page 50

“Vampires aren’t natural, you asshole.” I slam the porcelain into his stomach before backing into the attached bedroom.

Zuul barks and runs toward the bathroom as if to attack Agnarr.

Bile rises in my throat, and I command him to stop.

I’m not sure if I somehow used coercion on him or if that would even work, but he obeys.

He sits at the door on the other side of the murderous vampire, and I have to hope Agnarr doesn’t think to use him as leverage.

“But you can feel it, can’t you? That you’re not meant to be? You yearn for death, little one.”

My heart is about to burst out of my chest, and I slam the door in his face before sprinting out of the room and down the hall. I am no match for his strength, and he clearly doesn’t give a fuck about my gun. I have to get out of here.

Zuul runs out into the living room, and Agnarr is close behind him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the elevator start to rise, digital numbers on the panel beside it changing as it hits each floor.

I realize I don’t know how the fuck Agnarr got up here because it’s a keyed entry and the elevator is still many floors below.

But it doesn’t matter if he climbed up the elevator shaft like some sort of freak, because that’s not important.

Whoever is on that elevator knows the code.

They’re all that matters. I back toward the balcony door, and Zuul runs toward me.

It’s Hale or Roman—and whoever steps through those doors will define my actions.

“Gwyn, please,” Agnarr says, hands in his pockets like a businessman acting casual while trying to sell a product. “There is no need to spill more vampire blood than necessary. Only yours. You want it just as bad as I do, don’t you?”

His accent is so faint, I don’t understand how this man is the same Old Norse speaking, near-feral creature who crawled out of the bowels of this building.

But what hasn’t changed are his abilities.

He’d frozen every single vampire in that room—except me.

I’d been able to resist the coercion to a point, but no one else could.

And whoever is on that fucking elevator will become a weapon against me if he so pleases.

I don’t have a choice but to give him what he wants.

“Let whoever is coming take my dog and go. I’ll give you what you want without a fight, but only then.”

I pull the hammer down on the Beretta and lift it to my temple to show him I’m serious—even if a dry fire won’t do anything but buy me some time.

He rolls his eyes as if he’s particularly put out by the request, but he relents with a shrug. “The dog is quite handsome.”

Zuul growls at Agnarr as he turns his back to us, arms crossed. He watches the elevator, and I hold my breath. If it’s Roman, I might have a shot at killing Agnarr with his help—if my blood can help him resist the coercion. If it’s Hale? I’m as good as dead.

Realization sets in, and a calming sort of terror descends upon me.

When I take a deep breath and close my eyes, all I see is Roman.

I can say goodbye to him before Agnarr tears us apart—and that’s all I can ask for after every fucked up thing I’ve done.

And if it’s my best friend, I’ll die, and Roman will finally be free.

It will be a kindness, I think, but then a little voice inside my head asks me if I still believe that after last night.

The elevator stops climbing, and I wait for the doors to open.

“Why aren’t you answering your fucking phone?” comes Nico’s voice and a sob tears up my throat. Hale is safe, and Roman can’t save me.

Nico isn’t a born vampire, and he’s only a few centuries old from what Roman has said. He won’t be much use—even if he wants to help me, which I doubt.

I don’t want to die—not yet.

“Zuul, go,” I say, pointing to the elevator.

Agnarr chuckles as Nico freezes in place—mouth dropped open as he takes in the scene before him.

I’m standing barefoot in leggings and an oversized band t-shirt, hair a disaster, with my own gun pressed to my temple.

Zuul moves past Agnarr, head dipped low.

His ears are folded and his tail hangs between his legs—but he does what I tell him.

“Tell Hale I’m sorry,” I say, voice thick.

Because while I might not be able to shoot my head off at the moment, I’m sure my demise is imminent.

I have always thought of death as an old friend. Ushering loved ones away from me to an easier existence, it has always hovered at the edges of my mind, eager for me to join those who went before. But now, I know the truth.

Death is an ancient enemy, eager to peck at the scraps left behind by someone destined for an immortal life. Offering nothing while taking everything, I don’t know why I ever thought I would find serenity in the void. There is no peace in the promised nowhere. Only defeat.

And if there’s one thing I’ve learned about myself, it’s that I’ll stick around just to claim a victory. Over Bjorn and his coven, over Agnarr, and over that dark, vacuous pull to the edge of oblivion.

And perhaps, if I allow myself to dream, over Roman’s heart.

Nico doesn’t move as the elevator doors shut, Zuul sitting calmly beside him. The numbers on the digital panel descend, and I can breathe. My hand begins to shake, and Agnarr gives me a pitying expression.

“It is easy when done like this,” he says, eyes moving to the gun. “Quick and relatively painless.”

Compared to what Agnarr can likely do to me, I’m sure it would be preferable. I’m so fucked, and I’m not ready. I needed a plan. I needed help. I needed more than what I have.

I need more time.

“Outside,” I say, voice thready. “For the mess.”

Backing through the door onto the balcony, I wait for Agnarr to understand what I’m doing.

He merely follows, shiny shoes landing steadily as he takes each step.

It’s strange to see his otherworldly beauty and know I’m his child.

I get my height from him. My blonde hair is darker than his, but it certainly didn’t come from Cynthia.

She was responsible for my existence, and he’ll be the one to snuff it out. It’s oddly poetic.

When my ass hits the railing I’d balanced on the night before, everything goes quiet. My blood rushes through my veins, pounding against my skull, and I know this is so fucking stupid. But I’ve never been anything more than a hopeless little fool.

“Do you need me to do it for you?” he asks, and I don’t answer. I lower my gun and tuck it into the front of my waistband. “What are you doing?”

He’s halfway across the balcony when I throw myself backwards off the building.