Page 193 of Vampire so Virtuous

Now we’re getting somewhere.

It had taken too long, and as he clambered through, he wondered how far Gabe had come.I should’ve borrowed a thrall for communication.

But it didn’t matter. Nothing would stop him from reaching Cally.

The ramp spilled him into another parking garage, filled with the same gray SUVs Noah had said pursued them from Milton—as if there had been much doubt. Now that Cally knew a vampire had killed her mother, it was inevitable how it would play out. At some point, he’d have to tell Cally that it was Nico’s territory, then try and persuade her not to walk into the Curia’s house and challenge him in front of everyone. Hadn’t Nico been there when Matteo had stopped her? And Matteo was dead now. How different the world was with the Curia’s new mandate.

There was a set of double doors, a keypad beside them. Antoine ignored it, putting his shoulder to the doors. They looked a lot less robust than the steel shutter, and sure enough, burst open with a splintering of wood.

He was in.

Where had Gabe got to?

He focused on Cally, letting the tug guide him. Through another set of doors, the décor shifted to something he’d expect from Minh. Still, there was still no sound from the club overhead; the soundproofing was absolute.

Good. No one to hear the screams.

Another pair of doors, this time in ivory and gold, and still he hadn’t seen a single one of Minh’s thralls, or any security cameras.

It felt too easy, as if his path had been prepared for him.

But Cally was on the other side of those doors, and that was all that mattered.

Antoine gripped one of the ridiculous ivory globes in each hand, thenyanked so hard the doors came off their hinges, flying down the corridor to crash against the walls and skid along the floor.

Minh stood in the center of the room, before a large desk. Four thralls flanked him, all with pistols drawn and aimed at Antoine.

“Don’t you knock?” Minh drawled.

But Antoine had eyes only for Cally. Minh held her by the neck, using her as a shield, and she was as beautiful as ever. Her eyes glared, full of anger, not a trace of fear in her bearing. She stood tall, somehow conveying her disdain for those around her, despite the hand encircling her throat. She looked at him, and her anger seemed to fade, replaced with something else, something poignant. Loss? Had she resigned herself to die? Guilt? Did she blame herself? The emotions were too thick and fast to identify clearly.

Antoine tore his gaze from hers with an effort, focusing on Minh. “You have a choice. You can hand her to me now, unharmed, and I’ll leave your domain and return to mine. Or you can take any other option, but if you do, I give you my word this will end with your head separated from your neck.”

“Bold words, Outcast, but foolhardy when I hold all the cards.” Minh’s eyes glazed over as he communicated with his thralls. Antoine braced himself, expecting them to attack. But they didn’t move. Was it Gabe causing a distraction?

The moment passed, and Minh’s attention snapped backed to him. “I believe there are still other options to explore.”

Echoing down the corridor came the thud of many feet. Not the clomp of boots; this was softer, muffled, like the paws of dogs—only too heavy. Antoine checked over his shoulder, but the hallway remained empty.

“Kill him,” Minh said lazily, and the thralls opened fire as one.

But there was a half-second delay between Minh’s command and the thralls processing it—and Antoine was so much faster than them. He spun aside as shots cracked through the space he’d just occupied. A blink later, he was among them.

They were too slow. Even by thrall standards, Minh’s were weaker, slower— whether due to his younger age or the sheer number he controlled, Antoine didn’t care. He ripped out a throat in passing, skin and flesh tearing like paper. His strength was greater now than ever, and he was already onto the next.

Gun muzzles flashed, the bullets going who-knew-where—but Antoine didn’t hesitate.

An uppercut shattered a jaw, snapping the thrall’s head back so hard the neck hyperextended, fracturing cervical vertebrae. The force of the blowlifted the man into the air before he crashed onto the sofa. Antoine spun behind the third, gripped and twisted the thrall’s head, snapping it almost a full circle. A sickening crunch resounded through the room. The last thrall he struck with a straight-armed punch to the chest, the force hurling him into Minh’s desk. He crumpled, ribs shattered, heart likely ruptured—dead before he hit the floor.

Cally stared at him, eyes wide in horror.

No—not at him, but at his chest.

Antoine looked down, and only then did he feel the burning agony of the bullets he hadn’t even felt strike in the few seconds he’d been fighting. One shot above his heart, the other inside his shoulder, and his arm sagged, sluggish. He took a pace back, grunting as the pain finally caught up.

Minh looked delighted. “That should make round two interesting.”

His words drew Antoine’s attention to the scrabbling of feet in the corridor. The first feral spawn skidded around the corner, moving so fast it slammed into the opposite wall, rebounding without pause. Two more followed even as the first steadied itself, rushing on into the room. And three more behind them.