It was only a few seconds before he overextended himself, and his missed swipe threw off his balance. He fell forward and barely caught himself on his hand.
“I gave you another chance,” Vanya continued, “and you chose a terran. Afuckingterran! People pay small fortunes to own them, but for what?”
Drakkal forced his head up and settled his gaze on her. She’d backed away a couple meters, and he had to concentrate to clear his vision enough to make her out clearly. There was along weapon in her hands—a shock staff, crackling with a beam of white energy from one end to the other.
Vanya’s tail lashed back and forth behind her. “They’re small, soft, and weak. Ugly, useless animals. And you chose one of them over me! You chosethatoverthis?”
Breath ragged and burning in his lungs, Drakkal staggered to his feet and growled, “Fuck you,zhe’gash.”
“Soon enough you’ll bebeggingto,” she snapped.
Drakkal’s body swayed unsteadily, but he wouldn’t stop, couldn’t let her win. He slid his left leg forward, meaning to charge at Vanya. But when his weight came down on his knee, it buckled. He lashed out with his left hand, burying his hardlight claws into the nearest surface—likely the alley wall—to halt himself. He lifted his gaze in time to see Vanya swinging her shock staff.
He had no chance to react, no chance to think; there was only his driving need to protect his family, to save them from this threat, and then a flash of white and a burst of pain that seized his every muscle.
Drakkal’s world went black, and he knew no more.
TWENTY-THREE
Shay’s head was going to explode. She was sure of it. Pain radiated from the base of her skull, pulsed in her temples, and stung her eyes. But her suffering didn’t end there—her shoulders screamed, and her entire body felt like one big bruise, like she’d been strung up and beaten with a bat for a few hours.
Or had been thrashed around in a crashing car.
Memories of the crash flooded back to her; the most vivid of them were the terrified cries of her baby.
Leah!
Shay started, lifted her head, and opened her eyes. She immediately regretted it; a spear of pain pierced her skull at the swift movement. She closed her eyes again, panting softly and willing away the nausea turning her stomach as she assessed the situation.
She was standing up, her body weight hanging by her arms and head bowed. She twitched her fingers; her wrists were fastened to the wall behind her by a set of thick, metal manacles, and something just as cold, hard, and terrifyingly familiar was clamped around her neck.
No. Oh no, no, no, no.
“He certainly takes his time,” growled a rough but feminine voice.
“So do you,” snapped another voice—one that Shay knew well. The rage that voice sparked inside her fought back some of Shay’s terror.
Nostrus.
“A hunt takes as long as it takes,” the female replied. “But you’d think he’d be eager to get his hands on them by now.”
Shay slowly openly her eyes and peered through the curtain of tousled hair hanging in her face. Her heart sank and nearly froze with dread when she caught sight of Leah lying still—so still—inside a box on the floor about a meter away. The box’s sides and top were clear, with a few airholes on each. The only thing that kept Shay calm was the subtle rise and fall of Leah’s little chest.
“Master Foltham takes as long as he takes,” Nostrus replied. “You’ll have your pay soon enough, azhera. I’ve no wish to see you here any longer than necessary.”
Azhera?
Vanya?
Was that why the female’s voice seemed familiar, too?
Shay lifted her head slowly. Her hair fell away to either side of her face, allowing her to take in her surroundings. She was in the back of some sort of transport—bigger than what would’ve been considered a van back on Earth, but along the same lines. The two doors at the back were open, and Vanya and Nostrus were standing just outside of them. Manacles lined the walls, the same kind that Murgen had used on Shay—they didn’t physically attach to anything but could be manipulated to allow different lengths and ranges of movement. Drakkal was standing beside Leah’s box, head slumped forward and body held up only by his wrist bindings.
Vanya snorted. “The feeling is mutual, volturian.”
Drakkal drew in a sharp breath and winced, lifting his head slightly. His ears flattened, and his nostrils flared. When he exhaled, it came out in a groan that stretched into a low, pained growl.
“Seems the marks are waking,” Vanya said.