His command to Cruz and the other men to freeze was answered by a hail of gunshots from the gang. He howled sharply and returned fire. The scent of blood filled the air.
Son of a bitch.
Rafe flashed into the fray and found Axel dead on the floor of the warehouse, the back of his skull blown out. The guard was dead too. He lay in a growing pool of blood a few yards from where Cruz continued to bark orders to his men.
“Forget about loading the dolly. No time now.” The gang leader grabbed one of the crates and started to hurry away with it. “All of you grab what you can and let’s get the fuck out of here!”
Rafe wheeled on him, blocking his path. His eyes burned like coals, glowing against the blanched whiteness of Cruz’s face. The spilled blood would have been enough to bring Rafe’s fangs out, but it was fury and suspicion for this man that made the sharp points erupt from his gums.
“What the hell are you and LaSalle up to here? What the fuck is in these crates? Tell me before I decide to tear out your damn throat.”
Cruz didn’t look scared. He looked . . . triumphant.
He let go of the crate he was holding.
It hit the floor between them, the crash echoing like cannon fire. Rafe felt a sudden heat gathering beneath him. He glanced down, shocked to see luminescent, milky blue rivulets leaking out of the broken slats.
Holy hell.
Liquidized ultraviolet light.
He’d known the advanced technology existed. It was one of Opus’s favorite new developments—and something they had been attempting to weaponize on a large scale for some time. In the past few months, the Order had destroyed other caches of the Breed-killing rounds of UV light. Evidently, not all of them.
And Rafe had never seen the shit up close and personal like this before.
It seared his eyes. He staggered back, shielding his face with his arm.
It wasn’t enough to stop the burn that washed over him as the streams of pure light surrounded him.
He reached for Cruz on a bellowed roar, but the gang leader danced out of his reach on a low chuckle.
“Get your asses moving,” he shouted to Fish and Ocho. “LaSalle is waiting for us at the drop.”
CHAPTER 17
She couldn’t stand the waiting.
After pacing in her brownstone Darkhaven for the past couple of hours, Devony had finally given in to her impatience and hopped on her motorcycle. Rafe’s promise to update her once the job was over should have been reassurance enough, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
She headed past the drop location near Atlantic Wharf, but saw no sign of the men anywhere near the marina. They were late, which only deepened her sense of dread.
Gunning her bike, she sped for the industrial park near the shipping terminal. The sick feeling in her stomach eased a bit when she spotted the gang’s vehicle parked out front, Ocho jogging around from the back to hop into the driver’s seat. Cruz and Fish each carried a bulky crate out from the warehouse and loaded them into the truck.
Thank God. It appeared they were preparing to roll out right now.
Maybe that visual confirmation should have been enough to appease her. After all, she wasn’t even supposed to know about the gig tonight, let alone be there.
But one thing she didn’t see was Rafe.
The stench of gunfire hung in the air. And the closer she got to the warehouse, the more certain she was that she smelled blood.
Human blood, not Breed.
Yet that did nothing for the gnawing alarm that was building inside her chest.
She sped for the idling truck, practically leaping off her motorcycle once she reached it. Cruz was still at the rear of the vehicle with Fish. He rolled the door down and slammed the lock tight as Devony ran up to them.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Tell me what happened,” she said, panic climbing up her throat. “Where’s Rafe? Is he here with you?”
Cruz didn’t answer. He jerked his goateed chin at Fish. “Get your ass in the cab. Now!”
Fish hesitated only for a second, his face uncertain as he glanced at Devony. Then he hurried away as ordered.
On a snarl, Devony grabbed a fistful of the gang leader’s shirt. She didn’t have the patience to pretend she wasn’t prepared to do him serious harm. “Damn you, Cruz. Tell me what the hell is going—”
He shoved her hard, tearing out of her