Chapter 11 · The Lock Under the Chapel

The sanctified rounds punched through the stone columns. Drake rolled behind the altar, dragging me with him. Lucas was already there, bleeding through his jacket, his breathing shallow.

"How many?" I asked.

"Six shooters," Drake said. "Vera pulled back but she left the kill squad."

I could hear their boots fanning out across the chapel floor. Standard hunter formation. They'd corner us in under a minute.

Drake's hand went to his chest. He pressed against the shirt like something was burning under it.

"Don't," I said.

He looked at me. His eyes were still sharp but the edges were starting to blur. The silver was eating through the suppression my blood had given him. "You knew. About the mark."

"Yeah."

"How long?"

"Since the first night."

He laughed. It came out bitter. "Of course you did."

Lucas grabbed my wrist. His pulse was thready. "We need to move. There's a passage under the altar. Old smuggler route."

"Can you walk?" I asked him.

He tried to stand and his legs buckled. Drake caught him before he hit the floor.

Another volley of shots. The stone above us exploded into dust.