Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 139076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Upstairs would have been a good hiding spot, but he would have been trapped. He didn’t know of a way to escape the building through that floor that didn’t leave him splatting on the sidewalk three stories below.
If they were all in the loft now, three people wasn’t an impossible number to get through and out the front door. From there, he could just run out through the garage and disappear on the street.
Tightening his fists on the bat, he raised it, preparing to swing. His throat and eyes burned so damn bad. He needed to cough, to clear his lungs. Tears were filling his eyes so he could barely see. Holding his breath, he waited as what he assumed was a vampire inched closer to the office.
Fox swung the bat as hard as he could the moment the man was in position. It slammed into his chest, knocking him backward into a heap on the floor. The impact reverberated up that bat and along his arms. Fox hissed at the pain but kept moving. The fallen man was wearing a gas mask and what looked to be night-vision goggles. Damon had his people decked out for this little assault.
Changing his hold on the bat, Fox slammed the end on the hand still holding the gun. His cry was muffled under the mask, but Fox was sure he felt something crunch. Good.
One down.
He moved fast, charging the attacker who was already turning toward him. Before he could point the gun at Fox’s chest, the witch dropped to his knees. He slid across the hardwood floor, wincing as glass cut through his jeans. Releasing the bat with one hand, he grabbed a knife and brought it down in an arc, jamming it home in the man’s foot.
His screams poured out from behind the mask and he stumbled. The gun in his hand fired twice, but the bullets streaked harmlessly up toward the ceiling. As Fox climbed to his feet, he slammed the end of the bat into the fucker’s balls. That’d keep him out of the fight for a second.
Fox’s confidence hit a wall when he turned to find the remaining man between him and the door already pointing his gun at Fox’s chest. He was too close. There wasn’t enough time to maneuver. Fox pivoted on the balls of his right foot and turned toward the stairs. Two people were already coming down. He needed to move. Needed to escape.
Sharp pain dug deep into his left shoulder blade. He cried out, sucking in toxic air. He coughed and stumbled a few steps before he got his balance again. Back to the office. If he could get to the office, he could…could barricade himself…inside.
What the fuck?
Fox tried to blink and take a step. The world swayed and blurred. Was he losing that much blood from the bullet already? Or was it from the tear gas?
He couldn’t be passing out. Had to escape.
He took another step and his knees gave out. Crashing to the floor, Fox cried out as pain slammed through his legs. Why couldn’t he get his body to work? Why…
Oh fuck…
They didn’t shoot him with a bullet. It was a tranquilizer dart. They drugged him. Were knocking him out.
Fox clenched his teeth to hold in a frustrated scream. They were taking him to Damon. This felt worse than being killed. Damon would have him. Winter…Damon was going to use him to hurt Winter and the rest of the Variks.
Hands grabbed his arms, hauling him upright. Fox tried to struggle, tried to pull out of their grasp but it was already too late. They had him. Consciousness was already slipping away, and he was falling deeper into the endless darkness.
Fuck Damon and all his minions.
Winter was going to kill them all.
Chapter 29
Winter was going to come out of his skin. If Aiden hadn’t kept his hand on his arm, Winter was sure he would have slipped past the veil and disappeared from sight so no one could stop him from marching on wherever the fuck Fox was being held. Not that even he knew that much right now.
When they arrived at the loft, it was to find tear gas still lingering in the air, windows broken out, splashes of blood on the floor, and no Fox. The weapons cabinet had been raided, but Winter was hoping that was Fox’s doing.
Helpless rage and fear sloshed through him, nauseating him and weakening his limbs. He needed to kill something. Someone. He didn’t fucking care. No, he did. He wanted to wrap his fingers around Damon’s throat and choke the life out of the bastard before carving him into tiny little pieces.
But first he needed to hold Fox. Needed to know he was okay.
Aiden had pulled him into his SUV and driven straight to Marcus’s home. A couple of phone calls were made to his family on the way, but Winter didn’t hear any of it. He was just trying to think past the anger.