For a few seconds, at least, the ghosts were held at bay and there was a light at the end of the tunnel.
“All clear,” Holden called from the loft.
Rolling off Desmond, I called, “Toss me the sword.” I lowered my gun and raised my hand to catch the sword. The metal was slick with blood, and I almost dropped it, but the weapon seemed to recognize my grip, and I was able to hold tight.
Like the blade, Holden was going to take a lot of skillful handling.
All my warm, fuzzy feelings swam away. I loved Desmond, and I did want to marry him. We’d known this moment would come eventually, where I had to make my decision. But I didn’t realize how painful it would be to know I was going to lose one of them.
Holden had demanded I choose between them. He’d told me it wasn’t fair for me to keep both men, and now…how would he feel knowing the choice wasn’t him?
I loved him.
Oh God, what if I picked the wrong one?
There is no wrong choice except making no choice. The truth of it filled me, and I knew I was doing the right thing. Had I decided on Holden, he too would be right in his own way. That’s when I knew there wasn’t a right choice, truly. I was a vampire, and the vampire loved Holden. I was a werewolf, and the wolf loved Desmond.
If I could be split into two women, both would have a perfect man.
But there was only one of me, and the decision was made.
I swallowed hard.
Survive first. Juggle drama later.
I could worry about breaking hearts and planning weddings once this melee was over, my grandmere was safe and my mother was dead.
That would certainly help with putting together the seating charts.
Aiming my SIG at a man running for the door, I took him out at the knee, sending him in a face plant to the floor. “That’s enough,” I screamed, climbing on top of the table.
Most of the men had been unarmed, and I was already shot. With Holden overhead and Desmond beside me I felt secure. Not to mention my mother had demanded her stooges leave me alive.
The gathered men stopped moving and watched me. One with an old hunting rifle whose barrel was dangerously rusted leveled his weapon at me, but his finger was nowhere near the trigger.
Across the floor was a tapestry of fallen bodies, a few groaning in pain, but most lying in pools of their own brain matter or missing their heads entirely. We’d made a pretty messy display, considering how outmatched we were meant to be.
“No one else has to die,” I said. “I don’t know what promises she’s made you, but she’s lying. The only crown she was ever heir to is the one Callum McQueen now sits on. She can’t give you power, and if you keep following her, you will end up like them.” I pointed to the bodies on the floor. “Or worse. Don’t be fools. I am a queen, and I can tell you that punishment for a coup is not pleasant. Anyone who surrenders now I will extend a pardon to.”
The dozen or so remaining men exchanged worried glances. The guy with the rifle didn?
?t flinch. His hair was cut low to his scalp, and he had a nasty scar across his cheek, something that must have come from silver for it not to have healed. He looked like the perfect maniacal poster child of an ex-military man from every Nicholas Cage movie.
I doubted he was going to jump at my offer, so I kept my gun aimed at him in case things got bad fast.
The first guy to yield was an older man near the door. “Fuck this, man. I’m out.”
He turned for the exit, sidestepping a corpse. He’d almost reached the door when a shot rang out. At first I thought he’d been assassinated, until I saw the dart sticking out of his neck.
“Shit,” Desmond said.
The guy crumpled to all fours and let out a pitiful wail. The shriek soon converted from a human cry of pain to the sound of an injured animal keening. His shirt ripped along the back, and I began to see the horrible process of a shift being brought on unnaturally.
His bones moved under the skin but seemed to fight the process, sliding forwards and backwards as if they couldn’t decide which position was best. Each time they adjusted he cried out. Claws burst from the tips of his fingers before retracting and bursting forth again. I was grateful I couldn’t see his face. I could only imagine the awful images that would burn into my brain.
Desmond winced.
“That’s what happened to you?” I asked.