Phoenix Flame - Sara Holland Page 0,100

At first, Nahteran didn’t know what Taya meant, but he held his breath, trying to quiet his raging heartbeat. And then he heard it. Muffled men’s voices. Voices and a series of heavy thuds from falling objects.

His heart sped up even more, his mouth growing dry. His mind felt like a tornado, spinning wildly as he stooped to set aside his daggers, pick up the unconscious Reynolds, and deposit her behind one of the couches, where she’d be shielded from the confrontation that seemed about to happen. He clenched his fists, trying to stay grounded, but emotions fogged his mind. Hatred for her and this little empire, hope that he was so close to being whole again, fear that they would fail. When he picked up his daggers again, they were slippery in his sweaty palms.

He could fight, he knew that. So could Taya. But if they failed …

A flash of deep blue in the corner of his vision. He turned his head. Beside him, Taya had taken on her animal form, feline body casting a long shadow over the gleaming floor now splotched with mud, her fire-colored eyes burning and lips pulling back to reveal long, sharp teeth. A pang of envy went through him—he wanted that size, that strength; he wanted sharp teeth and claws—but he didn’t have time to dwell on it because the metal door burst open, and they were facing down two men, both laden with duffel bags and dripping silver.

Hatred, heavy and poisonous, spread through Nahteran at the sight. The effect of the silver in the sun was almost dazzling. The men’s faces were just smears in his vision, but the objects were crystal clear: a silver crown tipped askew on someone’s head, strands of necklaces hanging from a meaty fist, a bangle looped around a muscular arm. A bangle. Static filled his head. His body felt like tinder with a matchstick right in front of him, almost close enough to touch.

Everyone exploded into action at once. Taya leaped toward them, a blur of blue fire. The oldest man whipped the crown from his head and hurled it toward the glass wall of the hallway. It shattered, and cracks raced out in every direction. The men scattered, but the older one wasn’t fast enough, and Taya slammed into him, snarling.

Nahteran was running, running toward the man with the bangle, but a roaring to his left made him turn his head.

Headlights.

His stomach plummeted. He threw himself backward, hitting the ground just as one of the SUVs ripped through the hallway, bringing the whole thing down in a rain of broken glass. Nahteran curled up to protect his head. Sharp edges bit at his back and arms, but he hardly felt them. As soon as it was over, he jumped to his feet, the taste of iron filling his mouth where he’d bitten his tongue.

Taya and the older man were still grappling on the other end of the destroyed hallway, but the man with the bangle was sprinting toward the waiting SUV, the duffel bag full of silver banging against his back as he ran. Nahteran launched himself forward, his hands closing around the bag’s straps. The man shrugged his shoulder out of them, and the sudden weight sent Nahteran sprawling. The bag dropped onto the broken glass, but the man with the bangle on his arm kept running.

Nahteran scrambled to his feet. Before he could catch up, the man threw himself into the backseat and the driver stepped on the gas, cutting a muddy scar through the lawn. The SUV would have to circle the house before making it back to the road, but if the men made it out, Nahteran knew with a deep certainty that he would never see the two again. He would never get back the twelfth piece of his soul.

With a glance toward Taya—who had the older man pinned, silver pieces scattered over the floor—Nahteran left the bag where it was and sprinted in the other direction, toward the driveway, as the SUV swerved across the back lawn and into the trees. Without thinking, he jammed his daggers back into his belt and made for the driveway, sprinting down until he reached the gate. He vaulted over it onto the empty road. The sun was setting, casting everything in a fiery orange light. To his right was a dead end, a rough wall of stone. To his left stretched the road carved into the mountainside. And in front of him