Page 115 of Let Sleeping Vampires Lie

He pushed himself up on one elbow. His suit was shredded, his shirt torn and soaked with blood. The scent of it filled my nose. Old, powerful, tempting.

I pushed the hunger down with effort.

“Can you stand?” I asked.

“Debatable,” he said. “I can move.”

Close enough.

“Cass,” Marcus called.

I turned.

He crouched behind the podium, a case clutched in both hands. His hair was mussed, his lip split, but his eyes were alert.

“I have the fragment,” he said.

Relief hit so quickly it made me dizzy.

“Time to go,” he added.

He was right.

More boots pounded in the hall beyond the main doors. Reinforcements. Not ours.

Smoke crawled along the ceiling, mixing with the lingering scent of burned metal and flesh. Buyers began to regain their courage, some standing, some arguing with the host, others already reaching for phones and private channels.

Cerise stood near her seat, perfectly composed, eyes on me.

We would not get another clean window.

“Side exit,” Marcus shouted. “Loading bay. This way.”

He darted behind the stage curtain, with the case tucked against his side.

I slid an arm under Con’s shoulders, slinging his weight against me. He tried to stand on his own and nearly collapsed.

Pain hardened his face for a moment. His legs trembled.

His ribs were bad.

Something inside him felt wrong too. I could sense it in the way his energy stuttered.

“Do not argue,” I said.

“Not arguing,” he gritted out. “Just regretting your dress choice. You are slippery.”

Despite everything, a weak laugh escaped me. “Focus, Constantine.”

Together, we half stumbled, half ran behind the curtain.

The backstage area was stark compared to the hall. Exposed metal, scuffed concrete, stacks of empty crates. Marcus led the way toward a side door marked for deliveries, glancing back to make sure we followed.

“The organizers will lock this down in two minutes,” he said. “Security in three.”

“We need sixty seconds,” I replied.

Gunfire cracked behind us. A bullet punched through the curtain, tearing fabric inches from my shoulder.