Damon felt Alexia push her body close to his, trying to get his attention. He glanced at her, but already he was having difficulty interpreting what he saw in her eyes. Just as he couldn’t make sense of Sergius’s comment.
“No matter,” Sergius said. “We have what we wanted from Eleutheria. Theron may be sure we will put these serfs to good use.” He signaled to one of his men, who slung his rifle over his shoulder, set down his pack and removed a coil of heavy rope.
Sergius addressed the humans. “I will kill two of you for every one who fights or struggles,” he said. “Emma, that means you.”
The young woman glared at him with hatred hot enough to set the air between them on fire. “Do you think the Council will let you get away with this?” she asked. “If the colony falls and the Enclave doesn’t take us, they’ll want us back in Erebus, not in the hands of rebellious Freebloods.”
“That is a chance we are willing to take,” Sergius said. “And from now on, Emma, you will learn to treat your betters with respect.”
Emma spat. Sergius casually trained his rifle on Cullen and shot him. Emma screamed, dropped to her knees and took the dying man in her arms.
Damon lunged toward Sergius. Alexia grabbed his arm and held him back through sheer force of will.
“I won’t let you kill yourself,” she hissed. “We’ll find a way, Damon.”
He heard her, though his mind was beginning to fill with crimson haze and adrenaline raced through his body like a fast-acting poison. As he balanced on the thin wall between sanity and mindless violence, Sergius’s henchman began to tie the hands of the nearest humans, leaving a length of rope between each captive.
“You aren’t moving fast enough, Sergius,” Alexia taunted, slowly working her way into a position between Damon and the Opir. “The strike force could be here any moment. If they catch you, I don’t think they’re going to let you walk off scot-free, humans or no humans.”
“But I have a hostage, do I not?” Sergius said. “Your people will surely hesitate to attack when one of their dhampir agents may be killed.”
“Don’t bet on it,” Alexia said. “Like Theron said, they aren’t likely to be happy that I’ve countermanded my orders and haven’t only approached the colony but am fighting for them.”
“But you aren’t with the colony now, are you?” He beckoned one of his other men, who approached one of the female humans, pushed her down and tore off a wide strip of her long tunic. He brought the scrap to Sergius.
“Come to me, Agent Fox,” Sergius said. “And quickly, if you value the lives of these serfs.”
Alexia glanced at Damon, a plea in her eyes, and started toward Sergius. From deep within the morass of dark emotion that was slowly swallowing his reason, Damon felt pride and humility at her courage. He had failed again and again to protect her, but she had never wanted him to steal her choices from her. And, knowing he might lose her, he had chosen not to take them.
Sergius was oblivious to what was happening inside Damon. He took Alexia’s arm in a cruel grip. “Stand still,” he commanded, and wedged the scrap of cloth into her mouth.
Damon swallowed a howl as Sergius tied the gag.
“I see what you would like to do to me, Damon,” the Opir said, glancing casually in his direction. “Your affection for this dhampir is clearly out of all reason. But then you were never quite right in the head, as the humans say.”
“I will kill you,” Damon rasped.
“I don’t think so. Not as long as Agent Fox is in my custody.” He looked away, dismissing Damon as if he were an annoying insect he intended to crush when he had a moment free. “You,” he said to one of the humans sitting next to a weeping Emma, “help bind the others. You, as well.”
The two of them, aware they would only bring on more death if they disobeyed, helped the Freeblood tie up their fellow humans and then stood quietly while the Opir finished with them.
“To the caves,” Sergius ordered, gesturing with his rifle. “Move ahead of me, Agent Fox. We must be sure that none of our new acquisitions lose their way in the dark.”
Alexia looked at Damon again. She knew he was on the edge, that any moment his fragile control would snap and he would strike at Sergius, no matter what the consequences. She hesitated, and Sergius struck the back of her head.
Damon sprang toward him, his muscles bunching and releasing as if they were made of steel cables, carrying him instantly across the distance between them as if it were no wider than a centimeter. Several bullets caught him full in the chest, and he dropped to his knees. Several more slammed into his shoulder and his left leg.
Somewhere, someone screamed. The voice was almost familiar, but Damon’s ears were filled with a high- pitched buzz, and his nose was clogged with the smell of his own blood. He fell to his side, consumed by pain.
And something else far more powerful.
He spread his hands on the ground, splaying his fingers to support his weight, and pushed up. His injured leg gave out beneath him, but he shifted to his other leg and heaved himself to his feet, his pulse blotting out every other sound.
He never heard the bark of the gun, only felt the bullet as it drove into his skull. He collapsed again, and darkness swallowed him.
When he woke, it took him some time to remember who and where he was. It was still well before midnight, and he lay in a pool of his own blood. As the recent past came back to him, he realized how close he had come to dying. The bullet had cracked his skull, but it had not struck his brain.
The shooter thought he’d killed Damon, or he would never have left his enemy here untended. But Sergius and his followers had done damage enough by keeping Damon from the others, and as he began to rise Damon had to fight for his balance and to hold the blackness at bay.
By the time he was certain he could move without falling, Sergius, Alexia and the others were long gone, and Damon knew he had a disadvantage in the dark. He began to track the others, loping awkwardly, his injured body fueled by ruthless need.
The Opir in the rear of the loose column heard him coming, but he never had time to raise his rifle. Damon hit him at a run and sank his teeth into the Opir’s neck. He jerked his head sideways, ripping through the Opir’s throat in a spray of blood, and left the man lying there as he raced for the next.
The second Freeblood pumped off nearly an entire round, but Damon dodged easily and wrenched the rifle from his enemy’s hands. He reversed it, swung the stock at the Opir’s head, and then shot the man as soon as he was down.
By then the commotion had been noticed, and for Damon the next sequence of events, passing in a matter of seconds, seemed to move as slowly as an Opir left to die in the sun.
Hera was the first to act, breaking the ropes that bound her hands and turning on the Opir who guarded her. She was not quite fast enough; the Opir jabbed the muzzle of his rifle into her chest and shot her point-blank. But her sacrifice created just enough distraction for Alexia to move on Sergius. As she slammed into him from the side, Damon broke into a dead run straight for his enemy.
He saw nothing of what happened then, for he was on Sergius the next moment, tearing the Opir’s rifle from his hands and throwing him to the ground. Gunfire rattled and boomed, someone screamed, struggling bodies rushed by in a blur of motion as Damon went straight for Sergius’s throat.
But Sergius was still Opir. He flung his arm in front of his neck and rolled to the side, sinking his own teeth into Damon’s shoulder. Damon hardly felt it, as he scarcely felt the injuries that had barely begun to heal. He slammed his knee into Sergius’s groin, flung him aside and forced him down again.
He might have made an end to it then if he hadn’t smelled a scent he had never quite forgotten, heard a voice he had once cherished call his name. He froze, and Sergius surged upward, throwing Damon off balance and regaining the upper hand. Damon’s vision pulsed red and black as Sergius bit the base of his neck, puncturing deep and filling Damon’s throat with blood.
But he refused to die. He found the strength to fight again, his muscles swelling with fresh strength, his brain firing off signals his body obeyed before he was aware of them.
When once again he came back to himself, Sergius was limp under his hands, panting and bloody, mauled
