The warriors picked off the trio of Riordan’s men one by one.
In the sudden quiet, the other shooter held up his weapon in surrender and slowly limped out from behind his cover. The immense, dark-haired male was gravely injured. He had a makeshift tourniquet tied around his blood-soaked thigh and was bleeding from too many other places to count. His face was bruised and lacerated, his eyes bleak, but hot with amber fire.
“Jesus Christ,” Aric gasped. “It’s him. Carys’s fighter.”
And from the look of him, he’d been busy taking on his father’s thugs alone until the Order arrived.
Chase lifted his face shield. “Where’s Carys?”
“She went after him.” He pointed to a stairwell entrance in the corner of the great hall. “She wouldn’t let me stop her.”
Dread and disbelief swamped Chase. “She’s gone after Riordan? Alone?”
No. Please . . . fuck, no.
“The stairs go up to the tower roof,” the fighter said, already moving in that direction despite his serious injuries.
Chase didn’t wait another second. Summoning every ounce of strength his Breed genetics had given him, he flashed into the stairwell with his heart in his throat.
Intense light poured out from the small chamber at the top of the stairs. He stepped into the room and immediately closed his visor, his arm raised to cover his eyes, even though they were shielded from the UV rays by his protective gear. It took a moment for his vision to adjust.
It took even longer for his mind to process what he was seeing.
The access door to the roof was wide open.
Carys stood outside in full sunlight.
She held something in her hand—a tattered shirt. Swirling around her in the morning breeze was a cloud of dark ashes. They scattered away into nothingness as Chase stared, dumbstruck.
Carys turned then. She looked over her shoulder at him, fangs bared, eyes ablaze with molten amber.
Chase could hardly breathe as he looked at her now. He’d been terrified that he would reach the top of the tower and find his beloved little girl destroyed by the evil that lived here. Instead, he found a vengeful Valkyrie, with the wind stirring her hair like a tempest, and the tattered remains of her enemy clutched in her unforgiving grasp.
saw it too. “He’s getting away!”
When her body tensed with purpose, Rune felt her fury emanate through his bond to her. She was pissed as hell and ready to kill.
“Don’t even think it, love.” Rune grabbed her arms and ground out a curse. “Forget about him.”
But his woman was Breed, and her power coursed through her as ferociously as it did him. As it did in any other of their kind. Her blue eyes burned bright amber in an instant. She tossed her head in defiance, fangs bared. “I can’t forget about him until I know he’s dead.”
She pulled out of his hold. Then she vanished into shadow and was gone.
Rune bellowed her name as he pushed to his feet behind the shelter and opened fire on his father’s guards.
CHAPTER 39
Carys flashed up the tower stairs only seconds behind Riordan.
There was a small chamber at the top, and a door that appeared to open out onto the battlements. Riordan had his hand on the latch as Carys caught up to him. He yanked it open—then shrank back on a cry as the early morning sun’s rays reached for him.
He slammed the heavy wood panel on a curse and wheeled around.
Carys stood there, her assault rifle aimed on him. “Like a rat in a trap,” she said, throwing his own words back at him.
But Riordan had a gun too. He raised it on her. “You think you’re man enough to take me on?”
He fired.