She waited for a five count, fully expecting the Charger to be riddled with bullets from an unseen shooter. When that didn’t happen, she opened her door and stepped out into the deluge. By the time she reached the trunk, her clothes were soaked through. Rachel appeared at her side as Maria clicked the trunk release button on her key fob. The lid popped open.

“What are you doing?” Rachel said.

Maria grabbed her standard-issue body armor and handed it to Rachel. “Put this on.”

“What about you?” Rachel said, taking the black antiballistic vest.

“I only have one vest.” She grabbed a Maglite flashlight and closed the trunk.

“But . . .”

“I said put it on,” Maria snapped, not sure why she was suddenly trying to protect a woman she intended to betray.

Rachel nodded but looked uncertain, wiping several tendrils of wet hair from her face with her left hand and holding the body armor in her right at her side.

“Put your arms out and I’ll do it,” Maria said.

Rachel complied and Maria helped her into the vest, fastening the Velcro cummerbund flaps for a snug fit. Before closing the trunk, she grabbed her spare drop holster, which she quickly put on before transferring her sidearm to it. Lightning flashed and a thunderclap immediately followed, the boom so loud for a fleeting instant Maria thought a grenade had been tossed at them. Quickly recovering her nerve, she waved for Rachel to follow her and marched through the gusting, swirling rain toward the front gate.

Thirty seconds later, she understood why no one had challenged them.

“It looks like a war zone,” Rachel said beside her as Maria scanned the carnage around them. Bodies clad in body armor lay sprawled and unmoving on the berms on either side of the gatehouse. “What in God’s name happened here?”

Not in God’s name . . .

Maria knew the answer, but she didn’t respond. Among the fallen dark warriors, one body was conspicuously absent . . . Victor. He was here, and he’d made it through the school’s perimeter defenses. She could feel his presence. An overwhelming compulsion to run to him, to join him in battle washed over her and she started running toward the darkened school in the distance.

“Come on,” she yelled at Rachel over her shoulder. “We need to get there before it’s too late.”

CHAPTER
FORTY-SIX

OUTSIDE THE TORNADO SHELTER

ST. GEORGE’S ACADEMY

Sarah Beth stared at the glowing eyes at the end of the corridor. A thousand voices screamed in her head, while Mr. Baker lay in a growing pool of blood at her feet.

Nobody is coming for you, Sarah Beth, Victor hissed over the din in her mind. It’s hopeless . . .

A part of her wanted to run.

You’re weak.

A part of her wanted to cry.

You’re pathetic.

A part of her wanted to pretend that none of this was real . . .