Oh, shit.
They were so screwed.
He knocked out a guard, and, since he didn’t feel like rushing into the building naked, he grabbed the guy’s clothes.
A little tight, but they’d do.
He inhaled. She was in there.
Waiting for him. Once he had her safe in his arms, he would burn the whole place down.
He didn’t worry about being subtle. He just rushed toward the main entrance. When another guard turned on him with a gun, he melted the gun.
The guard ran.
Dante went inside.
I am Dante. Dante.
The name had come to him because he remembered her whispering it. Good-bye, Dante. The faint words had seemed to drift in the wind.
It wasn’t good-bye. It would never be, for them.
Inside, more guards came at him. He lifted his hand. His fire made them flee, too.
Too easy. Humans were no challenge for him.
They never had been.
He followed her scent. Saw the metal door. She waited behind it. He was so close to her.
So very close.
His fire sent the door crashing in. He surged inside. Found her instantly. On the table. With her head turned toward him, her eyes wild and afraid.
And a . . . gag in her mouth?
He stepped toward her.
“Stop, Dante.”
The voice seemed to slide inside him, freezing him.
She walked from the shadows. Her blond hair brushed her shoulders. Her face—beautiful, cold—seemed familiar.
“Remember me. Remember everything.”
He went to his knees as the images flooded through his mind. Images. Voices. Death.
“What would be the point of all this if you didn’t remember?” she asked. “You have to remember so that you can suffer.”
Her voice . . .
I love him, and we will be together. Nothing will ever take me from Wren. Her eyes, that icy blue, had found his. You will die. All of the phoenixes will fight until death, and then only my Wren will remain.
Zura.
Dante saw her in a field stained black by ash—the ash that had come from the dying phoenixes. So many dead.
She was screaming.
Wren was dying.
Dante frowned. “You’re . . . dead . . .”
“No, I’m not. It took me a good century to heal from my burns and to look normal again, but I’m very much not dead.” She smiled at him. “You won’t be able to say the same soon.” Zura pointed to him. “Don’t move a single muscle.”
His body locked down.
“Did you know . . . much like a vampire and a phoenix, a siren’s power only increases with age? A mere whisper from me”—she walked next to Jon and whispered in his ear—“can compel even the strongest of paranormal beings.”
Jon crossed to the nearby table and picked up the gleaming knife that waited there.
“You should know, Dante, that, before you arrived, I gave Cassie a little injection.” Zura smiled. “I’m a pretty good doctor, too, you know. When you can live forever, you have the chance to pick up so many skills.”
She shouldn’t be living. She’d been dead.
But . . . he remembered . . . Wren had been over her. Clinging to her.
Had his brother cried for her?
He must have.
“Once I found the original formula that helped to make your Cassie so indestructible, well, it was easy enough to find a way to undo that little process.”
Jon had taken his knife and was stalking toward Cassie.
Cassie shook her head and desperately tried to speak behind the gag. Her eyes were on Dante.
“She won’t be so quick to heal this time,” Zura promised.
Jon was over Cassie. Staring down at her.
His body shuddered, but he lifted the knife. “S-sorry . . .” he gasped.
“Don’t be sorry,” Zura ordered. “Kill her.”
Dante couldn’t even speak. Couldn’t move even a finger to help her.
Cassie was less than ten feet away from him, and he could do nothing.
Jon drove the knife into Cassie’s chest.
No!
“Oh, wait. It gets better.” Zura was nearly purring. “You see . . . she won’t come back. She won’t heal. She’ll just rot.” Zura smiled at him. “Told you . . . better.”
Jon stared down at Cassie. Then he pulled out the bloody knife. The sound that it made . . .
Cassie’s eyes were closed.
“Do you feel like the knife just went in you? Do you feel like you’re the one who died, Dante?” Zura demanded.
He couldn’t speak.
“Respond!” she screamed, freeing him from her spell.
Oh, he’d f**king respond all right.
He sent a blast of fire rolling right toward her. You should have been more careful with your damn words, Zura. A siren had to be very, very careful what she said.
The fire rolled over her. The scream she gave was full of pain.
He grabbed out with his hand. Caught the instrument tray. Picked up one scalpel.
Jabbed it into his right ear.
Then the left ear.
And he couldn’t hear her screams anymore.
He couldn’t hear anything. Blood poured from his ears, but he didn’t care.
Cassie was all that mattered.
He ran to her, even as Jon pushed Zura to the ground and began to pound out the flames on her body.
Dante yanked the gag from Cassie’s mouth. Broke the straps that held her down.
“Cassie?” He couldn’t hear his own voice, but his throat vibrated.
She didn’t stir.
He stared down at her chest. So much blood. Zura had told Jon to kill her, and it looked like the bastard had tried his best to carry out her order.
Would you cry for me, Dante?
“I won’t let you go.” He would cry, he would—
Jon tackled him. They hit the table that Cassie was on, and she fell to the floor. They all fell, tumbling across the hard tile.
Dante grabbed Jon. Punched him. Again and again and again.
He was the man who’d hurt Cassie. Who’d stabbed her.
Killed her?
Not gone yet. I won’t let her be gone. I can save her.
He just had to get to her.
The bloody knife was inches from his hand. He grabbed it—and drove the blade deep into Jon’s heart.
Payback.
Jon stared up at him, eyes wide and lost.
“When you rise,” Dante rasped out, “I will be here. And I will destroy you. You won’t come back ever again.”
The life drained from Jon’s eyes.
Dante grabbed for Cassie. His eyes were burning, but not from the fire. From tears that were coming—coming up from the phoenix who would not let his mate vanish. He would not—