Kellan wasted no time. He put a bullet into the back of each guard’s head, dropping the pair like bowling pins. Crowe drew up short as his men hit the ground.
“Don’t move,” Kellan growled. “Don’t you fucking move, or you’re dead next.”
Crowe put his hands in the air and slowly turned around. His golden brows rose in surprise. “Well, this is an amusing development. The rebel leader formerly known as Bowman. I never expected to see a dead man staring at me over the barrel of a pistol this evening.”
Kellan grunted. “Funny, I’m looking at a dead man too.”
Crowe smiled. “You can’t kill me. We both know that. You need me. You need information only I can give you. You want to know about Opus Nostrum, don’t you?”
Kellan kept his aim steady on the center of Crowe’s head. “I know all I need to know.”
“Do you?”
Kellan held the man in a dark glower. “Let me summarize. You and Benson had plans of killing the Order tonight to clear the way for you and your twisted need for power. But you weren’t capable of pulling off something like that on your own. You needed Jeremy Ackmeyer’s technology to accomplish it. You needed a weapon capable of instant, mass murder. Morningstar was your answer.”
Crowe smiled, seemingly amused.
“Benson stole the prototype from his nephew, but you decided Ackmeyer needed to die. No loose ends would be my guess. Lucky for you, his kidnapping provided the perfect opportunity for you to strike. You were able to kill him and blame it on rebels, ending the life of a pawn you always intended to sweep off your board.”
Kellan heard the access door on the rooftop service building open behind him and Mira quietly announced herself. She drew up next to him, blades in her hands, looking fierce and formidable. Sexier than he wanted to notice in that moment.
He centered himself back on Crowe and the contempt he had for the man. “Benson wasn’t on board with his nephew’s killing, was he? That’s why he showed up drunk at the hearing today. He said too much, so your spies had him executed on the spot.”
Crowe chuckled. “You think you have it all figured out. You’re not even close.”
“I think I am. When I touched Benson, his mind told me what Opus Nostrum had planned here tonight.”
“Opus Nostrum isn’t the worst of your problems,” Crowe replied. He lowered his hands, letting them fall slowly to his sides. He started walking toward Kellan and Mira.
Kellan raised the gun, prepared to fire a shot straight between Crowe’s amused eyes. “Stop right there, asshole. Or your next step will be your last.”
But Crowe didn’t stop. He came forward another pace.
Kellan pulled the trigger—once, twice. Two direct hits, right between the eyes, a dead-on shot into the bastard’s skull.
The bullets didn’t so much as make him flinch. The blood seemed to evaporate on the spot, skin healing over even faster than one of Kellan’s kind.
Mira sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh, my God . . .”
“What the fuck?” Kellan muttered, shocked and confused. “You’re not human. Not Breed either.”
Crowe grinned. “Now you’re getting the picture.”
Kellan emptied his weapon at him, but Crowe dodged most of the bullets with superhuman agility. Kellan reached for his second sidearm, but Mira was already in motion. She let her daggers fly on a battle roar, planting one blade in the center of Crowe’s chest, the other driven deep into his throat.
Crowe cocked his head at her, a cruel, animalistic gleam in his eyes.
As if the grievous wounds were of no consequence at all, he plucked out the daggers and dropped the bloodied weapons to the ground.
The rising glow drew Nathan back into the reception hall as the crowd of screaming gala attendees continued to pour out to the lobby in wave after wave of mass hysteria.
Lucan stayed behind, attempting to disable the crystal obelisk and its illuminated orb. As Nathan stepped back into the hall, Lucan was discarding his empty 9-mm magazine and feeding another into the weapon. The orb was chipped and shattered but not broken.
“It’s getting brighter.” Darion Thorne had come up beside Nathan. “Gunfire isn’t enough to destroy it. What the hell is that thing made out of?”
Nathan shook his head. He didn’t know, but he had another weapon in his arsenal—one inherited from the Breedmate who was his mother. He tossed both of his guns to Darion. “Light that fucker up. I’ll be right behind you.”
Dare nodded and stalked across the emptying floor to meet his father in front of the obelisk. He opened fire in concert with Lucan, a 9-mm in each hand, squeezing off rounds with each long stride.