The Darkness in Dreams (Enforcer's Legacy, #1)(84)

Christan found the new warfare puzzling, but he adapted to its usefulness, maintaining an operational discipline despite a preference for physical confrontation. He didn’t react to the first advancing attack and allowed the computers to fight the battle.

“There are more mercenaries than expected.” It was Arsen’s voice, speaking through the tiny transmitter Christan wore in his ear. He would have preferred telepathy. Telepathy, however, was limited in scope and couldn’t communicate with the dozens of warriors spread out around the villa.

“We’ve been in this position before,” Christan reminded his second-in-command.

“They’re well-armed this time.”

“But not well-trained.” Christan watched another mercenary stop his forward advance and crouch down in the shadows. A moment later, the man ran in the opposite direction. “Any word from Phillipe?” The immortal was enlisting additional help; his contacts within the underworld of immortal intrigue were well-known and legendary.

“He’s talking with One now.”

“Tell him he’s wasting his breath.”

“Three’s working on her own to bring in reinforcements.”

Christan watched as several figures approached along the edge of the road. The moon disappeared behind the clouds, but Christan was a nocturnal predator, feared in the dark. The loss of the moon was not a problem.

“Who’s outside the villa?” he asked.

“Luca’s warriors.”

An explosion echoed from his left, closer to the villa, and Christan swore softly when he realized it wasn’t one of their devices hidden in the leaves.

“Are warriors stationed in the trees?” he asked Arsen. “I told her to go to the trees if she had to run.”

“Luca assigned two experienced men.”

“Contact them.”

A silence for five seconds. “Not getting an answer.”

Christan didn’t answer. He’d already disappeared into the dark. Arsen followed two strides behind his Enforcer.




Lexi focused on the front of the villa. The fighting outside was intense. Sounds of battle approached with the rush, then receded. Time slowed. An explosion erupted, blinding and white, seeping around the edges of the heavy shutters. Erie flickers of light crawled like skittering insects across the floor. As the sounds grew louder, Lexi thought she was back in the alley. The screaming was horrendous and the dark once again impenetrable.

A soft shuffle attracted her attention, followed by the crunch of a foot on loose stones. The stealthy click of a lock being breached and a door opening.

Someone was inside.

Lexi stared into the darkness, knowing vision would not be her strongest sense. Gaia’s father had once taught his daughter how to sense the shadows. It was not enough to look for moving shapes, he'd said. The hunter needed to feel the displacement of the air, listen for the tiny tell-tale sounds. Difficult, with all the sporadic screaming from outside. The intruder would be armed, too. Lexi reached out, found one of the decorative figurines Hannah Strome liked to leave beside the stair railing like little shrines. She threw it toward the opposite corner of the large room.

Two white flashes a second later, the pops muffled with a silencer. Additional footfalls joined the first and they were different, smoother; sending two mercenaries after her instead of one almost made Lexi smile. Christan was enough of a threat they’d required the extra precautions. Or the bounty they’d placed on her was that high.

But Lexi knew two enemies were converging on the corner where she’d thrown the figurine. It would take seconds before they realized she wasn’t there. She vaulted off the staircase. Her feet were silent on the tiled floor, and as she stepped over another of Hanna Strome’s little shrines, Lexi remembered the scream earlier. A woman’s scream. Her hands grew damp and she scrubbed them against her jeans, calculating the distance to the front of the villa. The double doors were ten feet away, maybe less. An easy sprint, but in the dark, sprinting had its risks.

The two men were huddled in the corner and conversing now, their voices muffled. A small penlight was switched on and one of the men began to search the room.

“Come out and we won’t hurt you,” he said, his English heavy and thick with an Italian accent.

Lexi didn’t answer.

“This isn’t about you. Come out.” The light moved through the shadows, hesitating on a chair near the windows, reflecting off the table by the door. “We’ll help you.”

Lexi took a careful step to her left.

“One sent us.” A new voice, softer, the Italian less pronounced. “She doesn’t want bloodshed.”

Lexi kept moving. She wondered if they would sense her heart racing in her chest. The narrow beam of light continued to swing like a scythe through tall grass. A few seconds, she told herself, all she had were a few seconds before they found her.

She turned and ran. A man charged after her as she slammed into a table, knocking over a vase. The crash exploded into a thousand shards of glass. Lexi picked up a broken table leg and threw it behind her, tripping the mercenary who was closer than she’d expected.

He said something in rough Italian. From the tone, she knew they weren’t there to protect her, and then a hand twisted into her hair. Her head was jerked backward and a fist sliced from the right so swiftly she couldn’t scream. She fell to her knees, gasping. Her lungs seized. Her stomach was on fire and she bent over, gagging on the bile that rose in her throat.