After Dark (29 page)

Lucas placed the syringe on the ground and positioned his foot overtop it.

Then she nodded. She would do anything to save Damon. Anything.

“What do you want from me?”

He crouched and prepared to lunge for her. “Don’t hold back.” He met her eyes. “I like it when my victims put up a fight.”

Happy to oblige, she pulled her Smith & Wesson from her lower back, aimed and fired.

* * *

The sound of a shot from somewhere inside the building rang in Damon’s ears. His heart stopped. “Go!” he yelled into his radio. He and the Sergeant lunged from the van, hitting the pavement at full speed.

The hunters rushed from their positions and burst into the warehouse. Shots were fired, the sounds echoing off the metal walls, followed by the clatter of ricocheting bullets. Damon unsheathed his sword and launched himself through the main entry. He didn’t think twice. He swung the heavy weight of the silver sword in front of him, slicing the head of the vampire in front of him clean off.

The vampire exploded in a burst of blood. Shrieks and cries of pain filled the room, but a steady constant buzz filled Damon’s ears.

Tiffany.

Nothing would stop him from getting to her.

Brandishing his weapon, he cut savagely into vampire after vampire, destroying any and all of the monsters standing in his path. A male leech rushed him from behind. Spinning, Damon brought down his sword and chopped through the monster’s skull. Blood splattered his face.

He drew his sword back, only to have the weapon wrenched from his grasp as something huge tackled him from behind.

Spinning to face his attacker, Damon snatched his stake from his side and plunged the sharpened weapon downward. Huge hands caught his wrist, and he locked eyes with his opponent. His breath caught in his throat as he stood nose to nose with the shell of what had once been his best friend.

A blazing red pulsed in Mark’s eyes. He hissed and twisted Damon’s arm, trying to get him to release the stake. Damon gritted his teeth and pushed forward. He would not allow the pain constricting his chest to deter him. He would kill Mark, releasing his friend from the fate he’d always dreaded.

The two men met each other punch for punch and kick for kick. It was just like sparring class, where they’d always partnered to fight against each other. Being older and stronger, Damon had always won. He intended to win this time, too.

Mark stepped closer, and his fist collided with Damon’s gut. It was the one move Damon always caught him on. It was as if Mark was handing him the fight. Damon stepped into him, clutching Mark’s arm and using the weight of his body against him.

With the help of his hip, he dropped Mark onto his back, but Mark quickly shifted to his knees.

Damon brought the stake down with all his might. Mark grabbed Damon’s wrist, but he was at a clear disadvantage, on his knees with Damon standing over him. A loud yell ripped from Damon’s throat, releasing a fresh wave of adrenaline. He channeled all his energy into his biceps, struggling until he positioned the stake directly in front of Mark’s heart.

The vampire bared his teeth, battling with all his strength, but Damon held firm. One small shove and he could end this. He would keep his promise to his best friend, his fellow hunter. His whole body shook as he tried to force himself to do what he needed to.

Sweet Lord, help him. He had to murder his friend.

The pulsating red in Mark’s eyes flickered and for a quick moment his face slackened. The rage and fight disappeared from his expression completely.

“D-do it, Damon,” he stammered, before his eyes blazed crimson again.

Damon gritted his teeth and didn’t think twice. He plunged the wood of his stake straight into Mark’s heart. The blood of his only friend, his fellow hunter, of Tiffany’s brother, covered his face.

“Everybody out!” he heard someone scream.

A loud explosion sounded from his right, and a wave of heat washed over him. The force of the explosion knocked him to the ground. Fire spilled through the building.

With shaking hands, he wiped the crimson liquid from his eyes.

“Brock!” The Sergeant’s muffled yell carried from behind him.

Damon looked up and everything stopped.

For one long second he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t function.

Amid the smoke and flames, a large vampire stood silhouetted on the opposite side of the room, his arm around Tiffany’s neck in a choke hold. She writhed against the bloodsucker’s grip, struggling fruitlessly against him.

Damon launched himself from the ground and sprinted full speed toward her. Several of his fellow hunters and the Sergeant hooked their arms through his and tugged him back. Damon fought against them with every ounce of strength he possessed. They struggled to hold him back.

“No! Let it go, Brock! No!” the Sergeant yelled in his ear.

As the vampire disappeared into the smoke of the building, carrying Tiffany with him, her head snapped in Damon’s direction.

No!

A loud cry ripped from Damon’s throat as Tiffany’s eyes flashed crimson and she bared her fangs.

* * * * *

To find out the fates of Damon Brock and Tiffany Solow, you won’t want to miss a single volume of
THE EXECUTION UNDERGROUND
the new miniseries by Kait Ballenger.

Look for volume one, TWILIGHT HUNTER, coming in September,
available wherever Harlequin HQN Books are sold.

Keep reading for a special sneak peek!

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From the moment he pulled his gun on her, Frankie Amato knew what he was. A hunter. She’d stumbled onto a hunter. Still in wolf form, she stared down the barrel of his gun with fear and adrenaline pumping through her veins. A large lump filled her throat.

The rumors are true.

What had she gotten herself into? Humans—and hunters—had murdered her kind for centuries, but she hadn’t expected this. A hunter in Rochester—on her turf. How could she have been so oblivious?

In the past few months several lone wolves who’d refused to join her pack had been murdered. As Alpha to the Rochester Pack, it was her job to protect her people and keep them out of harm’s way. But the protection she guaranteed didn’t extend to the Rogue wolves, so she hadn’t given more than a fleeting thought to the rumors that they’d died at the hands of a hunter. Now the voices of gossip and the murmurs of trouble that had spread like wildfire through her clan smacked her in the face like a major reality check.

And son of a bitch, he’d backed her into a dead end. She’d let her guard down, and the bastard had cornered her.

She bared her canines, growling from deep within her throat. The hunter strode closer. Shadows covered his face, but she could see his gun pointed at her head. The silver dagger he’d pulled from his coat flashed in the streetlights. Her heart pounded in fear, knowing the fate she would be subjected to if she didn’t fight fast.

Frankie’s tail bumped the wall, surprising herself; she hadn’t realized she’d backed away in the first place. The hunter maintained the upper ground, holding the fighting advantage. Even if she lunged for him, his dagger would pierce right through her chest. Anger and rage filled her, and she snarled, dying to rip his throat out. But her sense of logic prevailed. She would wait until the right moment, when he thought she was weak, then speed-shift—her specialty.

A shiver ran down her spine as her limbs and muscles contorted. Pleading wasn’t her style, but it was worth a chance. A loud howl escaped her lips, slowly transitioning into the cry of a pained woman as she shifted. She fell back against the brick wall behind her, bare flesh scraping the pavement.

The hunter stepped closer, his gun barrel held steady. A streak of rage rushed through her.

On the average day she could handle this, but now she was knee-deep in trouble and shit out of luck. Damn estrus always clouded her judgment. Hell, she’d even warned her pack against doing anything stupid. And on the list of stupid things to do, hunting a supernatural serial killer on her own while in estrus ranked number one by far.

And now he clearly thought she herself was that same killer, who he’d obviously been hunting himself.

She scanned the alley. Sheer brick walls, a couple of Dumpsters too far away to offer protection and nothing in the garbage lying around that she could use as a weapon. Nothing that would help her escape, and there was no way in hell she could dodge around him when she was cornered like this.

She lifted her hands and held them up, palms out. She wasn’t below milking the helpless female card. Not if it saved her ass.

Draw him in. Pretend you’re weak. Then finish him off and get the hell outta Dodge.

He hovered in the near shadows, a massive black silhouette, nothing visible but the width of his body and the gun still trained on her. Yeah, there was no missing that.

* * * * *

To see what happens next, don’t miss Kait Ballenger’s TWILIGHT HUNTER,
available in September wherever Harlequin HQN Books are sold.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

A huge thanks to all of the following people:

To my super agent, Nicole Resciniti, for dealing with all my neurotic tendencies and having the most awesome agent editorial chops I’ve ever encountered. Nic, thanks for taking a chance on this young, inexperienced writer and being my greatest cheerleader every step of the way. Having you for an agent has been a true blessing, and has changed my life for the better. You are both a great business partner and a great friend. I know we’re both in this for the long haul. I couldn’t have done any of this without you. I’ll be forever grateful.

To my lovely editor, Leslie Wainger, and to the head of the HQN imprint, Tara Parsons, thank you for championing my work and for believing in the heroes of the Execution Underground. Leslie, thank you for giving me the final polishing touches on my manuscripts and for being my guide through the crazy publishing process. I couldn’t ask for a kinder editor to help me through my journey.

To my first writing mentor, Mark Powell, for telling me I was good enough to build a writing career and for making me believe it. Mark, I may not be writing literary fiction, but I hope you’re proud of me and enjoy this book all the same.

To my writing friends and mentors at Spalding University: you all rock! Special thanks to Rebekah Harris for reading this before it was polished. Rebekah, you’re a fantastic friend and hopefully I will find myself in the acknowledgments of your debut YA novel in the near future.

To Dr. Thebaud and Dr. Romain, thank you for restoring my health when I needed it most and for always keeping my well-being in mind. You’ve seen me at my worst but lifted me to my best. My family and I are beyond thankful.

To the best author girlfriends I could ever ask for, Cecy Robson and Kate SeRine. Thank you for holding me up every time I need it. I hope to always call you both my friends. And to my good friend and dance guru, Hollie Ruiz, for being such an enthusiastic fan and cheering for me: shimmying equals happiness. You’re a great friend and a beautiful person. You inspire me.

To one of my best friends on the planet and the most awesome critique partner ever, Britt Marczak. Thank you for being there for me every step of the way. You read about Jace and the E.U. heroes when they weren’t decent to see the light of day, but you loved them nonetheless. I don’t know if I would have pushed through Jace’s book without you.

To my pets: Sookie, Olivia and Elliot, for keeping me company in my office and being my favorite lazy editors—writing isn’t the same without you interrupting me every five seconds and walking across my keyboard.

To my family (both immediate and extended) for supporting me in every single endeavor, I know that at the end of every day, no matter what has happened, you will all always love me and continue to support me. Mama, you believed in me. You believed in my writing way before it was any good, from that first butterfly book we made when I was little, to my sixth grade stories, through the first drafts of my first novels, all the way to where I am now and beyond. You’re my best friend. You brought me into this world, and you’ve been the one to hold me up ever since. I love you.

To my husband, Jon, for sticking with me through all the ups and downs of the deadline for this book, for cooking dinner and cleaning the house when I’m too stressed out to do so, even in the face of a forty-hour work week. More importantly, honey, thank you for teaching me what it’s really like to fall in love. I’m looking forward to spending our lives together, for better and for worse, until we are old and gray. I love you more with each passing day.

And greatest thanks be to God with Whom anything is possible. You rain down blessings on me every day, Lord.