Page 66 of Sinner's Sacrifice

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Page 66 of Sinner's Sacrifice

He froze. Where was she?

He took in a deep breath, letting his senses tell him what they could.

“Hey,” a familiar irate female voice said behind him. “Let go of me. I don’t need medical care.”

The ambulance.

He turned and went to the back of the vehicle, but the doors closed a moment before he could reach it. He spun and leapt for the front passenger door, yanking it open and thrusting himself inside.

This wasn’t an ambulance. The cab wasn’t open to the rear treatment area of the vehicle. Instead, there was a narrow glass window allowing the driver or passenger to check the back, and that was all.

This was an armored truck. The kind used by banks and casinos. He couldn’t access the back any other way than through the rear doors.

Sam was back there.

A faint thud and scream from the rear caught his attention, and he saw a feminine hand slap the glass window.

Sam was back there, and she wasn’t alone.

Rage, fear, and an emotion he couldn’t identify detonated inside him. His world narrowed to the cab of the vehicle and the inaccessible rear cargo space of the truck.

He had to get back there. He had to get to Samantha.

He looked at the driver for the first time. He was an average-looking man in his late twenties or early thirties. One inhale told Yvgeny he was all human, but there was a lingering scent around him, clinging to his clothes and hair that was not all human.

The man was trying to drive and aim a handgun at Yvgeny’s head. Before Yvgeny could grab the weapon, the driver fired. And missed completely. The glass window behind Yvgeny shattered.

The driver would have fired again, but their vehicle veered toward the side of a building, and he had to focus on driving for a second.

Yvgeny grabbed the gun and tore it out of the human’s hand. He wanted to rip his throat out. He wanted to tear this idiot’s head from his shoulders and throw it out into the street. He wanted to kill anyone involved in this messy, messy business.

Instead, with careful control, he turned the gun on its owner and said, “Stop the vehicle or I blow your head off.”

The driver seemed to be having trouble deciding what was worse. Having a car accident or getting shot.

As the armored truck blundered out of the alley and into the street, the driver opened his door and jumped out.

Fucking moron.

The truck careened toward the far side of the street with its parked cars, light-posts, and pedestrians.

Yvgeny thrust himself into the driver’s seat but didn’t have time to hit the brakes before the truck plowed into the cars, posts, and people. He stayed inside the cab, though he hit his head hard against the dash.

He forced the driver’s door open with a metallic screech, got out, and went to the back doors.

Sam was shouting and screaming.

A male voice shouted back at her.

Yvgeny tore open the rear doors, nearly wrenching them off their hinges.

Sam was on the floor of the truck with a man on top of her. Even from outside the vehicle, he could see that she was bloody, and the man had his hand around her neck.

The fucker was trying to strangle her.

Rage swept over him in a red flash and something powerful, merciless, and old, so old, rose from the back of his mind. It didn’t care about laws, witnesses, or police. All it wanted was to destroy the man attacking his Samantha. Destroy anyone who would harm her in any way.

Yvgeny jumped into the truck, grabbed the asshole by the back of his pants and shirt, and heaved him out of the truck and onto the street.




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