Gaslight (Crossbreed #4)(14)

He wrapped his strong hands around my throat and squeezed mercilessly. Dizzy and unable to breathe, I nailed him in the side with my push dagger.

When he didn’t fall over, paralyzed by my stunner, I blinked up at the growing smile on his face.

“Thought it would be that easy, didn’t you?” he said.

This guy was not only immune to stunners but had an obvious talent for blocking out pain. Christian always encouraged me to experience pain during our training sessions so it wouldn’t render me useless during a fight. But everyone had a weak spot, and for men, it was always in the same location. Close to passing out, I shoved the dagger into his balls. His eyes widened in agony.

When I broke his nose with the heel of my hand, he slumped to the side. “Thought it would be that easy, didn’t you?” I parroted back.

He yanked out the blade, releasing a guttural moan. No doubt the pain in his balls was excruciating, but not enough to make him give up. With the speed of a mouse on morphine, he raised his arm to strike.

I rolled over like a man on fire trying to put out the flames. When I hit the edge of the building, I staggered to my feet and caught sight of something rather spectacular—Claude scaling a nearby building like Spider-Man. His Chitah abilities were stunning to witness as he pursued an archer distracted by the fighting below.

Why weren’t they attacking Niko and filling him with holes? Why wasn’t Claude’s target shooting at Christian or me? What exactly were their orders?

I had too much alcohol in my system; no wonder I couldn’t move as fast or pin Kallisto. I probably could have chewed on his neck, but I really wanted to get through the night without drinking anyone’s vile blood.

Incensed, I grabbed the Mage’s bow from near my feet and snapped it in two.

“How dare you!” he bellowed, still lying on the ground, holding his crotch in one hand and my dagger in the other.

Knowing the attachment a warrior had to his weapon, I threw the broken bow over my shoulder and off the roof. Instead of vowing my death on behalf of his ancestors, he flicked his eyes in the direction of the noise below. Cyrus must have given them orders to make sure that no one interfered with the fight. The swords continued clanging, but not with as much ferocity as earlier.

Without a weapon, this guy was no longer a threat to Niko. I collected my dagger and sprinted toward the adjacent building where another archer stood guard. It was risky in my condition, but I leapt from one roof to the next, sailing right over the few feet of empty space between.

As soon as my feet hit the ground, the second archer fired an arrow at me. It pierced my thigh like a bolt of lightning, and despite the pain, I kept running like a savage. When I reached him, I shoved him right off the roof.

I gasped when he grabbed my sweatshirt. As I gripped the ledge to catch my fall, my body pinwheeled, throwing my legs over. The arrow snapped, but I didn’t have time to process the pain as the weight of him pulling my shirt caused the collar to strangulate me. We were three stories up, and the idea of becoming a human pancake put me in survival mode.

Unable to breathe and losing grip, I risked clutching the dark metal pipe in front of me. We dropped a foot or two, causing the shirt to dig into my neck even more. The Mage wasn’t giving up, but a swift kick in the head forced him to finally let go. I gasped for air, and the man hit the ground with a cringe-worthy thud.

“Lights out,” I rasped.

Kallisto suddenly glared down at me with relish. He must have jumped over from the other roof. Undeterred, I anchored my good leg around the pole, my grip tightening. He reached down and violently shook the metal, trying to jostle it loose, but it wouldn’t budge.

A primal roar from below made me shudder. It was animalistic, like that of a wild predator.

Claude was on the move.

I loosened my hold enough to slide down little by little, my shirtsleeve scraping against the brick. When the broken arrow in my left leg snagged against the building, I lost my grip. My eyes widened as I went hurtling toward the ground, the cold metal burning my palms where I struggled to stop the inevitable.

Before I hit the ground, someone caught me and took off running.

“Stop!” I yelled, bobbing upside down. I recognized the sneakers immediately. “Claude, you’re going the wrong way!”

I glimpsed a bow on the ground, but it wasn’t Kallisto’s broken one. Claude held me over his broad shoulder. When his pace slowed at the end of the alley, I wriggled free and fell in a pile of snow.

Claude anchored his fists on the ground, eyes black, all four canines out like a feral beast on the hunt. His predatory movements and animalistic expression sent chills up my spine. This wasn’t the Claude I knew. Blood stained his mouth and jaw—Mage blood.

When I sat up, he shoved me back down and moved on top of me, acting as a shield.

“Claude, I think it’s precious you care, but get the fuck off me. Niko’s in trouble.”

Wyatt burst onto the scene, his cheeks ruddy. “There’s a pissed-off freshy inside. You two wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Claude growled at Wyatt, who stepped back.

“What the hell flipped your switch?” he asked, shivering hard as he hugged his arms. “It’s just me, you big lug.”

When Claude recognized Wyatt’s voice or smell, he sat back and let me up.

I staggered to my feet. “Did your invisible friend have a braid?”