Once Bitten (Shadow Guild: The Rebel #1)(5)

A vision of the man with the fangs flashed in my mind. I was certain he existed, but I couldn’t say it. Not in front of Corrigan.

“I know.” I slumped back against the chair, my heart racing like mad.

He leaned toward me, his voice going low. “Banks is going to get you for this. He’s been after you for years, and he says he has the evidence he needs.”

“What evidence?”

“I don’t know, but he’s clever and well connected. You’re in a bad spot, kid.”

“But then the real killer will go free.”

“Not as far as he’s concerned.”

Tears pricked my eyes, hot and sharp. Frantically, I tried to blink them back. I couldn’t show fear. Not here. Not anywhere.

“I can give you one chance, Carrow.” Corrigan’s voice was pitched so that the recorders in the room wouldn’t pick it up. “I owe you for your help with my other cases. I don’t want the real killer to go free. And I like you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t understand your skills, but I know you can catch whoever did this.” His gaze flicked toward the clock set high on the plain white wall. “In three minutes, all the power in the station will be shut off. A fire alarm will sound. And you’ll be alone.”

My mind raced. Holy shit, he was helping me escape.

“You’ll need to be quick,” he whispered. “There’s a key taped under the coffee cup. Get out of here and find the killer. Clear your name.”

“Thank you.” Desperate gratitude surged within me. “Thank you.”

His jaw was tight as he nodded. “It’s the least I can do. But I mean it when I say you need to solve this. Fast. There are cameras all over the city, and every police officer will know what you look like. Solve this murder or go to prison for it.”

“You really think that’s possible?”

“Banks is convinced he can get you for this, and I think he might be able to swing it. The crimes are connected, and your presence at the scene is the only thing connecting them. He says he has other evidence, too.”

“Have you seen it?”

“No, but is this a gamble you want to take? You don’t want prison, kid. You’ve put so many of those bastards behind bars, you won’t survive there.”

Clear my name.

Or die.





When the alarm sounded, I was ready. The lights cut out, and I made my move. The cameras wouldn’t work with all the power out, so no one would see me reach for the key that Corrigan had left under the cup. Whatever I did, I couldn’t implicate him. He’d been good to me.

My heart beat frantically as I scrabbled for the key, finding two of them—one small and one large.

The small had to be for the cuffs, and I quickly got them off, then shoved them in my jacket pocket. My heart thundered as I stumbled through the dark, headed for the door. There would be panic in the hall outside—the police station never lost full power. There was a secondary power supply to ensure it. Whatever Corrigan had done, he’d done it big.

A tiny bit of warmth burst inside me. With Beatrix gone, he was the closest thing I had to a friend, and I’d love him forever for this.

I fumbled at the door, my sweaty hands making it difficult work. Self-defense training had proved that I was pretty tough, but I’d never had a lot of experience under pressure.

And this was pressure.

Clear my name or die.

Finally, I got the key to turn and the door to open.

As expected, the hall was chaos. There were no windows in this interior part of the building, and it was nearly pitch black. Flashlight beams sliced through the darkness, illuminating panicked faces. Determined faces.

I turned my head so that my pale hair fell over most of my face and hurried down the hall. I just had to make it out of there before the power went back on.

“Someone call the damned fire brigade!” Banks’s irritated voice carried over the din, and my heart started to pound.

If he saw me outside of the interrogation room, all hell would break loose. Quickly, I darted down a side hall, then found the stairs. I was running by the time I reached it, unable to help myself.

The overwhelming desire to flee had gripped me, turning me into the prey I’d felt like earlier that day.

I had one chance, and I couldn’t waste it.

I sprinted down the stairs, finally reaching the bottom floor.

All of the exits would be guarded. After all, this was one of the busiest police stations in London. I couldn’t just walk out the door. I needed a window.

Blindly, I stumbled through the dark, hoping to find an empty office. I needed one on the alley wall, since I couldn’t just crash out onto the main road. I’d been in this building enough to know which side that would be on. I hurried toward it, heart racing. It didn’t take long to find an empty office—everyone seemed to be out of their offices trying to fix the problem—and I shut myself inside the first one I found.

My gaze was riveted to the one large window in the room. It let in the only light in the whole place, and it revealed the tiny alley on the other side. “Oh, thank God,” I whispered.

Adrenaline raced through my veins as I picked up an enormous iron paperweight. It was cold and comforting in my hand, and I heaved it through the window. The glass shattered so loudly that I winced, but I didn’t hesitate. Quickly, I grabbed a jacket off the chair behind the desk and tossed it over the jagged edges of the bottom of the window.