I twist in the air, dropping to the ground on all fours, after shifting, and kick off to chase after the others. I manage to catch up to Vance, who looks to have hung back to deliberately allow me the time to do so.

“How tight is Violet’s security system?” he asks, picking up the pace to keep up with me.

I’m forced to shift back to two legs, barely breaking stride, so that I can answer him.

“During lockdown, it held me back. But Idun could still break through. It’ll hold back the Neoprys,” I tell him. “Hopefully,” I add.

He makes a grunt, before running that much harder.

“Put on some fucking fur. I can’t take you seriously when you’re naked, and it’s more disturbing than ever, now that you’re my daughter’s mate,” Marta grinds out, catching up to us.

I don’t argue, because it has started feeling awkward to be naked around my mate’s mother…

It’s a nice distraction from the fact my mate is somewhere, with my ex-mate, locked in battle. Especially since I have no idea if what Talbot and Marta are saying is true.

It doesn’t feel…possible. Or plausible.

I drop to the ground on all fours, racing toward Sanctuary. That’s when I hear the loud barks and howls igniting the air.

 

 

Chapter 43

 

VANCE

 

Left.

Go left.

My urge to hunt has me desperately wanting to turn left to chase after the biggest, unlawful threat.

That means Idun is likely in that direction, and I hurriedly pull up my phone to shoot Damien a text.

A loud explosion has me pocketing my phone and hurrying that much faster, passing Emit, while my muscles scream from the extra exertion.

A closer explosion rattles the ground under my feet, and ash starts raining from the sky, as I dart between buildings, moving faster on the pavement.

I almost trip over my own feet when we finally get eyes on Sanctuary, because what I see makes no sense at all.

Through the ash and debris that is serenated with the sounds of alarms wailing, stands Demetria…

Demetria is standing in front of Sanctuary, repelling the onslaught of shifters. She’s bloodied, determined, and fierce, as she slices through one neck after another.

Emit is stopped and staring with the same bewilderment, while Shera stands behind Sanctuary bars, eyes wide.

“Fuck’s sake. She even turned Idun’s beta,” Marta murmurs with genuine surprise, clearly not in on the secret the rest of us are all missing.

My eyes lift, and across the way, I spot Clyde Neopry, along with the full clan of Neopry skin-walkers. Each of them is just as powerful as any Head alpha—the family of misfits and unmatched power.

“Their skin-walker halves feed on fear, and empathic Simpleton alpha fear is one of the strongest fuel sources there is. He was never going to let them go. Neither was Idun,” Marta states quietly.

She twirls her Van Helsing silver sword, and I touch the dagger at her hip, turning it into Van Helsing silver as well.

“Watch my back,” I tell them.

Then I charge into the fray.

 

 

Chapter 44

 

ARION

 

I scale the side of Sanctuary, elevating myself all the way to the top, and peer out, spotting the droves of shifters quickly racing this way in fur and in skin.

They’ve sounded the alarms, warning the ones inside of an impending attack. Violet’s security measures will certainly be tested tonight.

Just as I’m about to drop down, I hear the bars of Sanctuary open, and watch as Shera races out, her guns drawn and her swords resting in their sheathes on her hips.

She fully quakes, prepared to defend Sanctuary at the cost of her own life.

I should have locked her up at my House. My beta’s self-serving lust for survival has been diminished by recent selfless heroics.

She’s a liability at this point—

My brow furrows when I spot Ivannah walking out behind her, and she grabs Shera by her long ponytail. Shera makes a startled, pained sound, as Ivannah yanks her by the ponytail, throwing her backwards.

“Stay inside, little vampire. Lock it down. No one else in or out,” Ivannah says over her shoulder…

But it’s not her voice…

It’s a very familiar, unforgettable voice belonging to the most notorious beta of all time. Also known as…Demetria.

There’s a long moment of complete shock, as I watch her morph. My jaw grinds when I realize we’ve been fools all along. I knew Demetria didn’t seem like herself on TV. That’s because she was never there.

Someone was playing the part of Demetria to keep us from realizing the mind-reading freak was right under our noses the entire time. Fucking skin-walkers.

But how does Idun not know about Jasper?

Just as I’m about to drop and slice the bitch’s head off once and for all, Demetria lifts a barrel over her head, and she launches it toward the first wave of rushing shifters.

Heat wafts over me, and some unseen force nearly kicks me back. It takes two seconds for the sound of an explosion to catch up.

Just as the entire world around us rattles in response, I spot the fire spraying, hear the screams, and smell the scent of burning flesh, all happening at rapid speeds.

The front line of shifters is eviscerated, and the scent of Violet’s volatile potions singe my nose, even from here. Demetria turns and collects another of the barrels that I now regret pillaging.

She launches it at the ones still racing in by the hundreds, and it ripples through the air with an almost visible pulse. Everything in its path is eviscerated, up to what seems to be some sort of magical barrier that stops it from crashing into the buildings.

The center of town is a terrible place for a battleground.

Alarms sound, pandemonium sets in, and Demetria grins, as she draws her curved swords from her hips.

“Good luck getting by me,” she says, and then she twirls that signature twirl. The dance-like twirl that comes before heads roll.

Demetria in a battle is almost ethereal, even as she radiates pure malice.

It’s slowly sinking in that…Jasper is Demetria’s son.

We’ve spent all this time focusing on his father as the source of power, never questioning much about the mother’s origins.

Son. Of. A. Bitch.

Literally.

My gaze moves just as I’m about to drop and lend her a hand, when I spot two Van Helsings, a Portocale, and a wolf all gawking at Demetria, as she singlehandedly fends off the relentless waves of shifters.

Good to know I’m not the only big dummy around here. I feel better about that.

Van Helsing’s look grows cold when he looks beyond the rushing shifters, and I follow his gaze to where Clyde Neopry stands with his chosen favorites.

He was always insulted that Bobo was his first-born.

He was never nothing more than an embarrassing Simpleton to a man like that.

He’d very likely love nothing more than to obliterate Violet.

I fall from the top, landing in the fray of shifters, and easily thin the herd to make it more bearable for Demetria. Avery comes rushing toward us with a small army of Van Helsing knights, each man armed and capable.

“Can you handle this?” I ask him as I rip out a spine or two.

“I can handle all but Demetria,” he assures me, through calculated movements, as he shows off his impeccable, efficient skills with removing heads.