Kiss of Midnight_ A Midnight Breed Novel - Lara Adrian [120]
Up ahead at the door, Dante, Tegan, and the three other warriors were locked and loaded, braced to start the real action. On Lucan’s “go,” the six of them poured into the warehouse with weapons at the ready.
The Rogues inside had no idea what had hit them until Tegan let a dagger fly and nailed one through the throat. As the Rogue shrieked and writhed toward a smoldering disintegration, its enraged companions lunged for cover, grabbing up weapons as they scrambled to evade the barrage of bullets and razor-sharp steel that Lucan and his brethren were now raining down upon them.
Two Rogues bit it in the first few seconds of engagement, but the remaining pair had fled deep into the warehouse’s gloomy corners. One of the Rogues blasted gunfire at Lucan and Dante from behind an old pile of crates. The warriors dodged the attack and sent a little love back at the Rogue, driving him out into the open where Lucan finished him off.
At his periphery, Lucan spotted the last of the suckheads trying to make an escape through a maze of tumbled storage barrels and scattered metal pipes in the rear of the building.
Tegan hadn’t missed it, either. The vampire went after the fleeing Rogue like a freight train, vanishing into the bowels of the warehouse in deadly pursuit.
“We’re clear,” Gideon shouted from somewhere in the smoke- and dust-filled darkness.
But no sooner had he said it than Lucan sensed a new threat closing in on them. His ears picked up the quiet scramble of movement overhead. The dingy skylights above the exposed ventilation ducts and steel trusses of the warehouse were nearly opaque with grime, but Lucan was sure that something was advancing across the roof.
“Heads up!” he called to the others just as the ceiling shattered, and seven more Rogues dropped down with weapons blazing.
Where had they come from? The intel on the lair was solid: six individuals, probably turned Rogue only recently, and operating independently, without affiliation. So, who had called in the cavalry to back them up? How did they know about the raid?
“Fucking ambush,” Dante growled, voicing Lucan’s thoughts aloud.
No way in hell this fresh wave of trouble was coming in purely by chance, and as Lucan’s gaze settled on the largest of the Rogues coming at them now, he felt black fury rise to a boil in his gut.
It was the vampire who had eluded him the night of the slaying outside the dance club. The bastard out of the West Coast. The Rogue who might have killed Gabrielle, and might yet one day soon if Lucan didn’t take him out right now.
While Dante and the others returned fire on the descending group of Rogues, Lucan gunned for that one target alone.
Tonight, he would finish it.
The suckhead hissed as he approached, the hideous face stretching into a grin. “We meet again, Lucan Thorne.”
Lucan gave a grim nod. “For the last time.”
Shared hatred made both males discard their guns in favor of more personal combat. In a flash, blades were drawn, one in each hand, as the two vampires prepared to battle to the death. Lucan threw the first strike. And took a vicious slice in his shoulder as the Rogue evaded the blow with stealth speed, having moved in a blink and appearing on the other side of him now, jaws open in triumph at the spilling of first blood.
Lucan leaped around with equal agility, his blades slashing whisper close to the Rogue’s big head. The suckhead glanced down to where his right ear now lay, severed at his feet.
“Game on, asshole,” Lucan snarled.
With a vengeance.
They flew at each other in a swirl of rage and muscle and cold, deadly steel. Lucan was aware of the battle taking place around him, the other warriors holding their own against the second round of warfare. But his main focus—all of his hatred—was centered on his personal grudge