Darkness pressed in at the edges of Brandon's vision, but it wasn't taking him. Not yet.
No.
The thought arrived first, before pain, before comprehension of the wound in his side, before anything else had the chance to claim him. It came from somewhere deeper than conscious will the same place the lightning had come from when Kira died, the same place that had carried him through a corridor of vampire soldiers without letting him feel a single blow land.
I won't let this happen. I refuse.
He was on the ground. He remembered that much the impact, the blood pooling warm beneath him, Lilith's scream somewhere above the roaring in his ears. He remembered Vashek's voice giving the order to retreat. He remembered Malachai's casual instruction to kill everyone who stands with her.
