Chapter 35 · Dark Cellar

Glass was still raining out of my hair when Dominic shoved me down the cellar stairs.

"Move, Mara."

"I'm moving!"

My heel caught the edge of the third step. His hand locked around my wrist like iron, hauling me upright before my face hit the stone. Up top, the house was tearing apart—heavy boots, automatic fire, someone screaming a name I didn't recognize.

He slammed the heavy iron door shut. Threw the bolt.

Total blackness hit us. My ears rang so loud my pulse felt like an engine behind my teeth.

I realized my fingers were still clamped around the broken stem of Victor’s wine glass. I dropped it. It skittered across the floor, clinking against the rack.

"Light," I panted.

"No light." His voice was right at my ear, rough and low. "They'll see it under the frame."

"So what, we just stand here in the dark?"

"We stand here."

I dragged in air. Cold stone, dusty vintage, and something sharp and copper. Blood. Lots of it.

I reached out blind. My palm hit his chest, slid down to his ribs, and sank straight into hot wet wool.

"Dominic."

"It’s a graze."

"Bullshit. It’s through your shirt, Dom."

"Mara."