Chapter 30 Not without you
Eva
It was with the wolf that had been sneaking up behind me, jaw already open for my spine. The silver pipe caught him across the temple with a sound like a melon dropped on concrete. He fell without a whimper, his skull caved in, and his eyes rolled white.
I didn’t have time to feel sick. Ronan’s head snapped toward the sound, yellow eyes narrowing on me, on the torc blazing at my throat like a second moon.
Malach used the distraction. He surged up from the floor, blood streaming from the gashes across his ribs, and drove his shoulder into Ronan’s chest. The two alphas crashed backward through a stack of pallets, wood exploding around them in a storm of splinters.
I spun around, pipe raised, searching for the next threat.
There were too many.
Ronan's reinforcements had poured in while I was freeing Lily. Eight, maybe ten fresh wolves flooded from every doorway. Chloe and Jed were holding the east side, but they were being pushed back.
I felt the exact moment Malach realized the numbers weren’t in our favor. His snarl turned desperate.
“Eva, get the girl out!”
“Not without you,” I shouted back, my voice raw. So I ran towards Ronan.
The pipe connected with his shoulder, not a killing blow but enough to crack bone. He yelped and stumbled sideways, giving Malach the opening he needed. Malach’s claws raked across Ronan’s exposed belly, opening him from ribs to hip. Blood sprayed hot across my face.
Ronan howled and staggered but didn’t fall. His eyes locked onto me again, and the hunger in them transformed into something worse than hate: worship.
“You’re going to birth gods, priestess,” he rasped, voice half-wolf, half-man. “And I’m going to be the one who—”
That was when the lights went out. Every bulb and floodlight exploded in a shower of sparks, and darkness swallowed the warehouse.
Gunfire erupted unpredictably. Someone screamed, while another person gurgled before falling silent.
I dropped flat, pipe still in my grip, heart jack-hammering. The torc flared white-hot, giving me just enough light to see shapes: wolves shifting, bodies falling, Malach’s silhouette tearing through the dark like a demon.
Then an arm, gloved and smelling of chemicals, locked around my throat from behind. A cold voice whispered in my ear, cultured and calm, and nothing like Ronan’s. “Easy, priestess. The Goddess sends her regards.” A needle pierced my neck.
I thrashed and elbowed, trying to bring the pipe around, but the drugs hit me like a sledgehammer. My limbs felt heavy, and my vision began to tunnel.
The last thing I saw was Malach spinning toward me, silver eyes wide with terror, mouth forming my name.
When I came to my senses, I was in a moving van, my hands zip-tied behind my back and my mouth gagged with a cloth that burned my tongue.
A woman sat across from me in the dark, cloaked in black with her face hidden by a hood, only her eyes visible.
“Hello, Evangeline,” she said softly, her voice like frost on glass. “The Goddess has been waiting for you to come home for a very long time.”
The van hit a bump, and my head slammed against the metal wall. I glared at the woman. She tilted her head, studying me the way a scientist studies a specimen that just grew teeth.
“You’re awake sooner than expected,” she said, voice soft, almost fond. “The torc has done its work.”
I attempted to snarl, but it came out as a muffled rasp. She leaned closer, and the hood slipped back just enough for me to catch a glimpse of her face: beautiful, ageless, and cruel. She had high cheekbones and pale skin. A thin circlet of tarnished silver rested on her brow, carved with the same ancient script that was etched inside my torc.
“You don’t remember me yet,” she murmured. “You will.” She reached out and brushed a gloved finger across the torc. The metal flared white-hot for a moment, and a memory slammed into me so hard my spine bowed.