Damn. Tahnee hit the floor. This guy is good.
Good thing she was better. However, it was time to end their little dance despite the fun she was having.
“Wait—”
“Sorry, mate.” She clipped her opponent’s legs, driving the guard to the ground.
“Last mission before you retire, eh? Ready to go home?”
Home. Kiera immediately pictured red double-decker buses, Big Ben, and intimate theaters. Her small studio, overlooking the Thames, would still be unfurnished after her months away. And Justin—was his corner cafe still in business?
Mathis twisted the shovel and winced as a splinter stabbed into his palm. He made a mental note to look for a better one, or a pair of gloves, in the next pile of garbage. Behlovek certainly wouldn’t give him anything.
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They call us the Misfits. They don’t give us battle armor. Just what we can collect from the bodies of fallen friends and foes.
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Here lies Hazel. If nothing else, she was considerate.”
Hazel ignored her taunting subconscious and reread the note to her landlord.
Dear Mr. Baxter,
Send authorities to apartment 412. They will find my body inside. Do not come yourself. It is too late. I tried to prevent any mess. Please accept the extra rent enclosed and my apologies.
Hazel
The tall stranger sauntered through the dark alleyway. His long fingers trailed across the rough brick of the buildings on either side of him, and his arm span filled the alley. He moved at a lazy pace, no hurry to be anywhere. His stroll this evening wasn’t about destination but discovery—about finding someone, finding the one, the perfect specimen to assuage tonight’s hunger.
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“Do you remember your name?” A woman’s voice echoes in my mind.
My eyes open. Fluorescent lights stare back at me from the ceiling as my surroundings begin to register. I am lying on a steel gurney, wearing a dingy set of medical scrubs.
“Nelson. Nelson Duran.” I cock my head at the sound of my own voice. Is that right?
I was surrounded. There, atop the ruins of what was once a great symbol of power, I lifted my hands in surrender.
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He wants to dig up the body.
“This is a bad idea,” I whisper to my father beneath the light of the moon.
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The man came to a stop in a beam of sunlight struggling through the dust-smeared windowpane, and the glow peeled a mask of shadow off his face, revealing white skin pulled tightly over his skull and teeth visible through paper-thin lips.
I clutched the countertop to keep from staggering. Okay. Not Indy. “What are you?”
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Only someone with a death wish would risk trespassing on werewolf territory during the full moon, but Tari was good as dead anyway.
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The firm, resounding thunder of combat boots fills the tunnel, a drumroll announcing my impending doom. A moment later, boot tips stop a breath away from me. I listen as the beats between sound waves stretch, the peaks falling into stillness.
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