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THE tip grazed her skin, sending white-hot pain
through her. Her blood gushed. The only reason he hadn’t slit her
throat clear through was that she’d been backing away from him at
the time, unwilling to share personal space with him.
She gasped and held her neck, feeling her hot blood
well. Her mind whirled fast and hard at the sudden turn of events.
Instinct and training taking over, she turned and threw her booted
foot back with the intention of catching Brandon’s wrist. She
connected and the knife sailed out of his hands and slid across the
floor of the foyer.
Then Alejandro was there, drawn by the scent of
blood and the commotion. He sailed past her with a snarl and
slammed into Brandon. Together they hit the front door and rolled
to the floor, fangs extended.
Blood coursed down the front of Daria’s shirt,
soaking the material with her warm life’s essence. Perhaps the
slice had been deeper than she’d thought. She took a staggering
step backward, holding her throat, and Ari appeared at the top of
the stairs.
“Valerie!” Ari gasped.
Daria waved her back. “Get back, Ari! Get away from
here.” Her voice sounded strange and her throat was now going from
numb shock to sharp, blooming pain.
She had no time to wonder if Ari had obeyed her or
not because Brandon slammed his elbow into Alejandro’s head and
wrenched himself free. Alejandro fell back heavily against the wall
and lay still.
Daria spotted the cool glint of a blade on the
floor near her feet and saw Brandon also glimpse it. She dove to
the floor, catching up the handle. Brandon’s heavy body landed on
her a moment afterward.
He grasped her wrist, holding the knife she wielded
to the floor, and straddled her waist, pinning her immobile beneath
him.
“I always wanted to get you into a position like
this,” he murmured.
She punched his gut as hard as she could,
struggling for upward traction so she could target his throat and
eyes. He calmly reached down with his free hand and closed his hand
around her throat—and squeezed.
Her legs kicked out and her eyes bulged. Brandon
was strong, much stronger than she was as a newling Chosen. Her
throat compressed, cutting off her air so that she couldn’t even
gasp.
The slice on her throat still bled, now made worse
from Brandon’s grip. The pain was nothing compared to the choking
sensation. She dug her nails into his forearms in an effort to
dislodge his grasp out of a purely desperate panic to live.
Rationality flickered and she punched her hands upward, gouging at
his eyes.
At the same time, Alejandro regained consciousness,
grabbed Brandon from behind, and wrenched him off her. Daria rolled
to the side, gulping huge amounts of air. It tasted like the finest
wine.
Furniture crashed, and the two men grunted as they
fought. As soon as Daria could function, she pushed up to see
Brandon fleeing out the front door, Alejandro close on his
heels.
“Ari!” she cried hoarsely.
Ari appeared at the top of the stairs, pale and
shaking. “I contacted Christopher right away. He should be here any
minute.”
Daria pushed to her feet and headed out the door,
giving tense, staccato instructions as she went. “Find a weapon.
Lock yourself in a room right now. Don’t come out. I’m sending
guards in.”
Not waiting for a reply, she ran outside and
glimpsed the back end of Alejandro’s bike as he sped after
Brandon.
She grabbed up her own bike, jumped on, and
kick-started it. The engine purred to life and she was off.
Guards were already arriving at the house, saving
her time since she didn’t have to instruct them. She had no doubt
Sante would be there shortly. Ari would be protected.
Her mind raced as fast as her dune bike as she
pushed the vehicle to catch up with Brandon.
Damn, they’d both been blindsided!
Brandon had set the bomb at Sante’s house. He’d
been gunning for Ari Templeton all along. All the pieces started to
fall into place—why he’d wanted them to get him into the inner
circle so badly, why he’d wanted to move on the carmin right away
and forget the blood slaves.
Daria would bet any amount that he’d been paid by
Richard Templeton to murder Ari, for what reason she could only
guess. Perhaps to further his agenda against the Chosen? Perhaps to
silence her on some issue he was afraid she’d talk about? Pure,
unadulterated hatred? The possibilities were endless, but it was
clear now that Brandon’s only objective from the start had been to
gain close proximity to Ari so he could kill her.
He’d intended to do to her and Alejandro what Sante
had done to Julia and the guards all those years before. He’d taken
advantage of the trust he’d built to surprise them and kill them.
If Daria hadn’t been feeling uncomfortable with Brandon’s come-ons
and hadn’t been backing away from him a little when he’d slashed at
her throat, he might have succeeded in his goal.
Luck.
She was alive out of pure luck.
She touched her throat. The blood there was sticky
and hot, but had stopped flowing. That was one bit of good news at
least.
Her bike sped past the guards going the other
direction. She dodged trees and bushes, coming up fast on
Alejandro, who was right behind Brandon. Brandon suddenly directed
his bike straight upward, toward the diamond-strewn expanse
above.
For a moment her mind fumbled, then she realized
what Brandon must be trying to do.
She opened a pathway with Alejandro. He’s going
to try and time his exit for when the security grid snaps off while
the dome is closing. She’d shared that information with Brandon
and Alejandro, thinking it was pertinent they both know.
Shit. When is that?
She had no watch, but it had to be soon. Sante
said it would happen at three a.m., when the peak of the asteroid
shower was over.
He planned that as his getaway. He’d kill Ari
and then slip out in the gap during the brief time when the dome
wasn’t protected.
That seems likely. Wonder how he planned to
avoid the patrols outside the dome?
Alejandro answered in a low growl inside her head.
An experienced GBC agent can shoot them easily enough. Daria,
let’s break this bastard’s wings.
Sounded good to her.
He shifted his angle upwards, above Brandon’s bike,
and she did the same. They had to keep him away from the slit in
the dome, where he was angling his bike.
Together they arched above his bike and then angled
downward in a synchronized move, forcing Brandon to change
direction. Brandon tried to swerve from side to side, but every
time either she or Alejandro intercepted him. They herded him like
a wayward cow, toward the ground. They’d entered a desertlike
section of the dome and Darpongese sand covered the ground below
them.
From their left came a flash of silver and black.
Sante rocketed toward them, headed straight for Brandon.
Sante’s bike slammed into his, forcing both Daria
and Alejandro to disengage and fly in opposite directions. Sante
grabbed Brandon from his bike, and they plummeted like mating birds
toward the ground while their unpiloted vehicles crashed and
toppled end over end, transforming into chunks of mangled
metal.
Below her, Sante and Brandon also made hard
landings in the sand, where they both lay stunned and
sprawled.
She swerved her bike around and dove in. Alejandro
did the same. By the time they’d set back down on terre firma,
Sante had recovered and pinned Brandon to the ground.
“Who hired you?” Sante growled, every muscle in his
powerful body taut with murderous intent.
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Brandon
spat.
Sante opened his mouth, showing sharp fangs. He
hovered over him for a moment, then struck like a snake. The flesh
of Brandon’s shoulder tore.
Brandon bellowed in agony. “Okay! Okay! I’ll tell
you everything.” Hadn’t taken much to convince him.
Sante disengaged his fangs—making Brandon yelp—and
lifted his gaze, his eyes hooded. His lips curled back, giving
Brandon a clear view of his most impressive weapon. Those weapons
were already soaked with Brandon’s blood.
Sante was only seconds away from losing control and
killing him. That was clear from the cold sheen in the killer’s
eyes and his aggressive body language.
Brandon probably didn’t know it, but Daria did—he
wasn’t getting out of this alive.
Brandon’s breathing sounded labored and his eyes
shone with fear. “When Richard Templeton learned I’d been assigned
to work this case, he offered me money to kill his daughter.”
Brandon laughed. “Templeton bloody well set me up for life. He said
do it any way I wanted, just make sure she died and no one knew
who’d done it. Templeton knew if he accused you of the murder the
entire universe would back him since you were already suspected of
kidnapping her. He wanted to use her death to gain sympathy for his
cause.”
Alejandro took two threatening steps forward.
“You fucking bastard.” Daria put a hand on his arm to hold
him back.
“I threw the bomb at the house from the other side
of the fence, but the attempt failed. I couldn’t get close enough
to off her any other way,” Brandon continued. “Tonight was my only
opportunity.”
Sante ripped out his throat.
Daria had seen lots of violence in her life, but
this sudden and primal act made even her take a step back. Brandon
made a sick, gurgling sound and then fell silent.
Sante bowed his head over the body for a moment,
blood dripping from his fangs and mouth, his shoulders hunched. It
was almost a position of regret, remorse, but then he lifted his
head and fixed his gaze on Daria. In his eyes glowed savage bliss.
He’d enjoyed what he’d just done with every fiber of his
being.
Sante’s mouth, neck, and throat were covered in
blood and gore. Death smeared him, making his expression brutal in
the starlight. “I know who you are, Daria,” he growled.