The first Hybrid didn't run; it launched itself like a missile.
It cleared the twenty feet between the shattered doors and the dance floor in a single bound, aiming straight for Selene. The creature was a blur of gray skin and distorted muscle, moving with a speed that shouldn't have been possible for something that size.
Selene didn't flinch. She didn't have time to. She dropped her center of gravity, the silk of her gown straining, and drove an open palm upward. It wasn't a slap; it was a kinetic strike fueled by two centuries of blood.
Her hand connected with the creature's jaw. Crack.
The sound was sickeningly loud, like a dry branch snapping in a winter storm. The Hybrid's head whipped back, its trajectory broken, and it crashed into a buffet table, sending trays of jollof rice and crystal glassware exploding into the air.
"Messy," Lucas grunted from behind her.
"Effective," she shot back.
Then the room erupted.
The other two Hybrids charged, but they weren't alone. From the shadows of the mezzanine, more figures dropped down, these are rogues, dressed in catering uniforms, their eyes blown wide with black ichor.
Pandemonium. The Abuja elite, usually so composed, scrambled over each other to get to the exits. Screams bounced off the vaulted ceiling. The string quartet had long since fled, leaving only the sound of tearing fabric and snarling beasts.
"Watch your six!" Lucas roared.
He didn't wait for her to acknowledge. He spun, his leg lashing out in a roundhouse kick that caught a flanking rogue in the chest. The impact lifted the attacker off the floor and sent him sailing into a marble pillar. The rogue slumped, chest caved in.
Lucas wasn't fighting like a duelist; he was fighting like a wrecking ball. He grabbed another attacker by the throat; a vampire with filed teeth and eyes hoping for a punch and slammed him into the floor tiles. The ground shook.
Selene, meanwhile, was a storm of precision. She moved through the chaos like smoke. A Hybrid swiped at her with claws the length of butcher knives; she pivoted, the air displacing around her, and drove her heel into its knee. The joint shattered backward. As it howled, she grabbed a silver serving fork from a nearby table and jammed it into the creature's shoulder.
Silver burned. The Hybrid shrieked, the smell of searing flesh mixing with the metallic smell of the air.
"They're herding us!" Selene shouted over the din. She realized it before Lucas did. The attackers weren't just trying to kill them; they were boxing them in, pushing them away from the exits, toward the center of the room where the chandelier loomed overhead.
"The Artifact!" the scar-faced leader yelled from the balcony. He wasn't fighting; he was directing. "Secure the woman! She knows where the key is!"
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Selene yelled back, ducking under a wild swing.
"They don't care!" Lucas grabbed the lapels of a rogue and threw him into the path of another. He backed up until his shoulder blade pressed against hers. "Selene, we're overrun. Council security is down."
He was right. The three ghouls who usually guarded the door were lying in a heap near the entrance. These weren't random thugs. This was a paramilitary strike.
"I can't shift here," Lucas growled, his breathing heavy. "Too many cameras. Too many humans."
"Then we leave," Selene said. She scanned the room. The main exits were blocked by the Hybrids. The kitchen entrance was swarming.
She looked up.
"Lucas. The window."
He followed her gaze. The floor-to-ceiling glass wall overlooking the pool deck. It was reinforced, bulletproof, designed to withstand a bomb blast.
"It's shatter-resistant," he said, parrying a blow that would have taken his head off.
"Not for you."
Lucas understood instantly. He grinned, a terrifying expression that showed too many teeth. "Cover me."
"Go!"
Selene stopped defending. She went on the offensive. She let out a hiss that was purely vampiric, a sound that triggered primal fear in the brain stems of the attackers. She unleashed a wave of telekinetic pressure—small, she was low on blood, but focused. It hit the front line of Hybrids like a physical wall, knocking them back three steps.
It bought Lucas two seconds.
He turned and sprinted toward the glass. He didn't slow down. He accelerated, his muscles bunching, channeling every ounce of alpha strength into his shoulder.
He hit the glass at forty miles per hour.
BOOM.
The impact sounded like a cannon shot. The reinforced pane didn't just crack; it bowed outward and then exploded, raining safety glass down onto the pool deck outside.
"Move!" Lucas didn't stop. He landed in a roll on the concrete, coming up ready.
Selene didn't hesitate. She sprinted for the hole he'd made. A Hybrid lunged for her ankle, its claws grazing the silk of her dress, tearing the hem. She kicked back, her heel connecting with its nose, and vaulted through the shattered window into the humid night air.
She landed gracefully, but her heels skid on the wet concrete. Lucas was there instantly, grabbing her arm to steady her.
"My car," he barked. "Valet stand. It's armored."
"I have a driver—"
"Your driver is probably dead or unconscious. Move!"
They ran. The humid air of Abuja slapped them in the face, a stark contrast to the air-conditioned ballroom. Behind them, the Hybrids were pouring out of the broken window, dropping onto the deck like spiders.
They rounded the corner to the VIP valet area. Lucas's vehicle—a matte black G-Wagon that looked more like a tank than a luxury SUV—was idling at the curb. The valet was nowhere to be seen.
Lucas yanked the driver's side door open. "Get in!"
Selene didn't argue. She scrambled into the passenger seat, ripping the high slit of her dress further to accommodate the movement. Lucas vaulted into the driver's seat, the suspension groaning under his weight.
A Hybrid landed on the hood.
Its face was pressed against the windshield, snarling, drool smearing the glass. It raised a fist to smash the windscreen.
Lucas didn't panic. He slammed the gearshift into drive and floored it.
The V8 engine roared like a waking dragon. The SUV surged forward, the sudden acceleration throwing the Hybrid off balance. It clawed at the hood, leaving deep gouges in the metal, before tumbling off the side as Lucas swerved violently onto the main road.
"My paint job," Lucas muttered, checking the rearview mirror.
Selene was gripping the dashboard, her chest heaving. She wasn't out of breath—she didn't need oxygen like that—but the adrenaline was making her dead nerves fire. She looked at her hands. They were shaking slightly.
"They knew," she said, her voice tight. "They knew about the Binding. They called it the 'Key'."
Lucas sped through a red light, weaving through the late-night Abuja traffic. He checked the mirrors constantly. No tail yet.
"I told you," he said, his voice grim. "I told you that land wasn't just dirt."
"I thought you meant ghosts, Lucas! Not... that." She gestured back toward the hotel. "Those things were Hybrids. They've been extinct for two hundred years. Genetic impossibilities."
"Life finds a way," Lucas said dryly. He glanced over at her.
She looked wrecked. Her hair was wild, her silver mask was crooked, and her dress was torn. There was a smear of blood on her cheek—not hers.
She looked... human.
"You're bleeding," he noted.
Selene looked down. There was a shallow gash on her arm where the silver fork had grazed her during the scuffle. It was sizzling faintly, the silver preventing the wound from closing immediately.
"It's nothing," she said, covering it with her hand. "Where are we going? My penthouse is compromised."
"If they hit the Hilton, they'll hit your tower," Lucas agreed. He took a sharp left, heading away from the city center, toward the darker, denser outskirts.
"Lucas, where are we going?"
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
"The only place in Abuja where a vampire can't get in without an invite. And where those things won't dare to follow."
Selene's eyes widened. "You cannot be serious."
"My pack compound," Lucas said. "Welcome to the jungle, Princess."
Selene sank back into the leather seat, staring out the window as the city lights began to fade, replaced by the encroaching shadows of the bush.
She was the most powerful vampire in West Africa. She owned politicians, banks, and armies. And now, she was fleeing into the night in the passenger seat of her enemy's car, heading straight into a den of wolves who wanted her dead.
"This is a mistake," she whispered.
"Probably," Lucas replied, his eyes scanning the dark road ahead. "But it's the only move we've got."