Fighter Page 3

  “I would say you went above and beyond what most people would do.” The reporter reached over and touched his hand on screen. “And I only wish we had more to give you.”

  Vincent covered her hand with his other hand. “You have given me so much already. Just knowing I can be free to be who I am is enough.”

  “This is disgusting.” Dakota flipped the channel.

  Then he changed the channel again. And again. Every single station only played one thing: Vincent.

  Anastasia’s lips curled into a cynical smile as she watched. “He isn’t taking this world by force. He’s doing it by pretending to be a hero.” She shook her head in disbelief as Dakota continued to flip through channel after channel of Vincent’s face.

  “Surely no one is stupid enough to buy that.”

  “Think about it. There’s no one to corroborate his story of ‘driving the beasts out’, and no one to refute it because everyone was gone. He just”—she shrugged—“called them off. Then, Vincent the Savior went to wherever the hell they’d taken the survivors and brought them back.” She raised her hands up, palms out, then paused, tilting her head as she considered. “But that still doesn’t explain how he fixed things. Especially when he is sitting right there, in peak condition.”

  “Is it possible he is that powerful?”

  She looked up at Dakota, eyes wide. “I sure as hell hope not. Otherwise, how am I supposed to stop him?”

  6

  Dakota

  Dakota stared out at the city beyond the glass of his window. How strange it was to be back here in his apartment after the events of the last few days. It felt like a lifetime ago when he’d stood in this exact spot and watched the beasts pour into the alleyway below.

  He took a drink from the bottle of water in his hand and placed one hand against the wall.

  Since that night, Ana reappeared into his life, his partner was murdered, he was sent to another world after being attacked by a psycho sorcerer—or whatever the hell Vincent called himself—he was returned to a destroyed city, witnessed Ana nearly dying, and woke up today in a world completely unharmed as if nothing had ever happened.

  Shit, it had been a long few days.

  He knew they had to move forward with their plan of finding Vincent, but he couldn’t help himself; part of him just wanted to take a day—a month, even—and just relax with the woman he’d loved his entire life.

  A woman he barely knew anymore.

  She stepped into the living room and he turned around to face her. Ana wore one of his large t-shirts, and it fell to her knees. She smiled as she met his gaze. Her hair was wet from the shower, the dirt and grime from the last twenty-four hours washed away down the drain.

  She looked absolutely stunning.

  “Good shower?”

  “Great shower.” She groaned. “I haven’t had one in five years.”

  He made a disgusted face.

  She let out a small laugh. “You know what I mean.”

  “Do I? I thought I smelled something.”

  “Probably yourself. You planning on showering anytime soon?”

  He drank the rest of the water and tossed the bottle into the recycling bin, then shook his head at the absurdity of recycling after everything they’d just been through. But, damned world or not, old habits die hard.

  “I hope I didn’t use all the hot water.” The grin on her face let him know she didn’t really care.

  “I’m used to cold showers.”

  “Oh?”

  “You know what I mean.” He winked and stepped past her.

  “Hey, Dakota?”

  “Yeah?” He turned to face her again.

  “Don’t shave.”

  “You got it.”

  He walked away with a smirk and stepped into the bathroom. The water was still warm, thankfully, but as he stripped off clothes he never intended to wear again, he wondered just how far up shit creek they were.

  With Vincent on everyone’s Christmas card list, how were they supposed to get to him? He’d have unlimited resources, if need be, and he’d been powerful even from the shadows.

  So how would they defeat him now that he was the poster boy for Seattle’s salvation?

  7

  Anastasia

  “I completely forgot how freaking delicious pizza is!” Anastasia exclaimed. She took another bite of the triple pepperoni Dakota had ordered after his shower.

  “It is hard to match it.”

  They sat on his couch, enjoying pizza and watching TV reruns like they had so many years before. Dakota convinced her another night of relaxing would be beneficial, giving them time to prepare for their assault.

  She itched with the need to find Vincent and finish him, but she couldn’t deny the appeal of spending an evening with Dakota. Surely saving the world could wait one night.

  They still had no clue where to find Vincent, and so far, looking for Mitch had been futile. It was as if he’d fallen completely off the radar. She honestly wondered if Vincent hadn’t just killed her former “father” since Mitch’s usefulness had likely run its course. Vincent already had the city of Seattle hanging on his every word; what more could an alcoholic child abuser have to offer him?

  “Where are your thoughts?” Dakota asked from his side of the couch.

  She looked up and shook her head. “Just going over everything.”

  He set his plate down and leaned back. “I wish I knew where to even start. I figured I could check in with my lieutenant at the department. I’m technically on leave, so it’s not like I’ll be reprimanded for being gone three days.” He laughed. “But I’m concerned he might be in Vincent’s pocket at this point. I don’t even know who to trust.”

  “I agree.”

  “We have to make sure he doesn’t know we’re here, but in doing so, we’ll cut off every potential thread of information we have available.” He ran a hand through his hair, the muscles in his arm flexing from the movement.

  Anastasia swallowed hard, forcing her gaze away from his arm. “We’ll figure something out.” She got to her feet, embarrassment heating her cheeks. She’d just been ogling Dakota—had he caught that? The timing was beyond inappropriate—it’s not like they had all the time in the world. Vincent could find them at any moment. Or, worse, he could change his mind and rain destruction down on their city all over again.

  Then again, not having all the time in the world meant no time to waste.

  “I’m pretty wiped out.” She yawned and stretched. “I can take the couch if that works.”

  Dakota shook his head. “You can take the bedroom.” He rose to his feet and walked over to give her a hug. “Night, Phoenix,” he whispered into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

  She sucked in a shaky breath. “Phoenix?”

  “That’s what you are, isn’t it? Besides, it’s what the villagers call you behind your back.”

  “What? Seriously?”

  Dakota smiled. “Night, Ana.” He pulled a blanket and pillow out from a storage ottoman and laid them on the couch.

  Anastasia made her way back to the bedroom and slipped between Dakota’s soft sheets. She stared up at the ceiling fan as the blades spun around and around sending a delicate breeze through the otherwise still room.

  She closed her eyes and allowed the power to surge forward. Focusing as hard as she could, Anastasia tried to sense Vincent. She wasn’t even sure it was possible, but, given their current predicament, what could it hurt?

  When nothing came, she pulled back and relaxed against the soft mattress. She ran her hands over her face, pulling them back to look at the tears on her palms.

  She felt completely helpless and, despite the man sleeping in the other room, lonely. For as long as she could remember, she’d wanted a future with Dakota. Kids, a family, the whole nine yards.

  When she’d been sent to Terrenia, she’d believed that future was over, had mourned the loss of those dreams and that man for all the years that followed.


  Now that she was finally back with Dakota, back in a relationship with him, it felt so completely different than before. He was holding back and she couldn’t figure out if it was because he was afraid of her, or if he still hadn’t forgiven her for leaving.

  Did she even forgive herself?

  Her shoulders shook with silent tears for all they’d lost in the last five years. She cried for her mother, for his father, her father, the Terrenians who had been slaughtered mercilessly, and the Seattle residents who paid the ultimate price for a fucking show of power.

  And she cried for herself: for the woman she could have been, and the Fighter she’d become.

  8

  Anastasia

  Anastasia sat up quickly, the familiar destruction from her nightmare still lingering in her mind. She covered her face with her hands and breathed deeply, waiting for her thoughts to slow and return to the present.

  They were not in a destroyed city anymore. Dakota was alive, and so was she.

  The fan no longer spun above her; Dakota must have turned it off.

  She put her bare feet on the floor and made her way to the kitchen for something to drink. After filling a glass halfway with water, she sipped the cool liquid and watched Dakota sleeping soundly on the couch.

  She took a step forward and—

  Footsteps in the hallway signaled someone approaching the door of Dakota’s apartment. Anastasia’s pulse raced and she quickly walked to the couch and shook Dakota.

  “Dakota!” she whispered loudly. “Wake up!”

  “Search the apartment.”

  Her eyes widened, and her blood iced. She recognized Mitch’s voice immediately and shook Dakota harder.

  “Dakota, wake up!”

  The door opened and Anastasia stood, turning toward the entrance of the apartment as Mitch stepped inside, two large men flanking him.

  “He won’t be waking up anytime soon.”

  Anastasia looked down at Dakota, whose head faced her. His eyes were open, staring blankly at the ceiling.

  “No!” She knelt again and checked for a pulse. “You can’t be dead.”

  “I’m afraid he is, and it’s all your fault.”

  “Ana, come back.” Dakota called, and it was as if he stood beside her, but that was impossible! She cried into his shirt and clung to his limp body.

  “Now, how about you come with me? Boss has some big plans for you.”

  “No!” she screamed, fighting against the two men as they hauled her to her feet. “Dakota!”

  “Ana, I’m right here! Wake up!”

  Hands shook her and she fought against them, desperate to get free.

  “Ana!”

  Anastasia opened her eyes to Dakota’s face just inches away from hers. He searched her gaze franticly. She threw her arms around him and held on, as she shook.

  “It’s okay, Ana, just a bad dream.” He held her while she tried to gain control over her body.

  After a few moments, she gained control, and looked up into his familiar eyes.

  “You okay?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

  “Nightmare?” she asked. It had been different this time, so much more real than the nightmares she was used to.

  He nodded. “Yeah, a bad one. I couldn’t get you to wake up.” He searched her gaze. “I’m going to get you some water, all right?”

  She nodded, still trying to grasp that Dakota’s limp body splayed out on the couch hadn’t been reality.

  9

  Dakota

  Dakota stepped out into the living room, leaving the door cracked behind him.

  Waking up to Ana’s terrified screaming was really starting to fuck with his head.

  His own heart was pounding, and he pressed the palm of his hand against his chest as he pulled in some deep, calming breaths.

  After taking a few moments to calm down so he could be the guy Ana needed him to be, Dakota made his way into the kitchen for a drink of water. When he turned around, he sucked in a breath, his hand hovering reflexively at his hip where his gun would be holstered if he wasn’t in pajamas.

  Mitch stood on this side of the front door, two large men flanking him on either side.

  “Shhhh.” Mitch put his finger up to his lips. “You bring her out here and we’ll kill her on the spot.”

  The man to Mitch’s right held up a pistol and aimed it directly at the doorway to Dakota’s room.

  Dakota swallowed hard, standing taller. “What the fuck do you want?”

  “My boss wants to talk to you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “You don’t have a choice,” Mitch said quietly. He nodded to the man on his left, who made his way to Dakota.

  He could fight, could even probably manage to take this man down within seconds, but not fast enough to stop the bullet that would get Ana the second she raced out to see what the commotion was. Her life was more important than his own. Still, Vincent would use him as a trap; he was sure of it.

  So was he really saving her by taking away her chance to fight?

  He opened his mouth to speak and felt a stabbing pain on the back of his head, then everything went black.

  10

  Anastasia

  Anastasia stepped out into the living room a few minutes later, searching for Dakota.

  “Dakota?” she called.

  “No need for that.” Vincent appeared in front of her.

  Her body went rigid and her blood chilled. “Where is he?”

  “He’s alive, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “What do you want?” she growled

  “I want my family back.”

  “Little late for that, isn’t it? You know, seeing as how your brother was murdered?”

  He narrowed his eyes. They were blue tonight, but tendrils of silver had worked their way through the color. Was it the dark magic doing that to him?

  “You are the last of my family, Anastasia. I do not wish to be at war with you.”

  “Really? Great. Then bring back Dakota and stop whatever plans you have for world domination.”

  Vincent scoffed. “Don’t be so childish. You’re better than that.”

  “You don’t know me, not even a little bit. So let’s not pretend.”

  “I only ever wanted to be a part of your life.”

  She thought she saw a hint of sadness in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly she was sure she’d imagined the emotion.

  “You have a funny way of showing that,” she muttered, disgusted. “You kidnapped me, forced me to spend my entire life being beaten, killed your sister-in-law, had your brother murdered… and that’s only the beginning of the list of crap you have flung.”

  “Gregory brought that all upon himself. I only wanted to get to know you. He wasn’t going to let that happen, so I took matters into my own hands.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Then give me back Dakota.”

  “What happens to him is up to you.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You come to me willingly, and I might be persuaded to leave him alive. But you had better be quick, Anastasia, patience is not something I possess in spades.” He began to fade, and Anastasia lunged.

  “Where are you?” she yelled as he disappeared from her sight.

  “Go to the docks.”

  Anastasia fell to her knees, tears welling in her eyes. The nightmare had been a distraction. It was meant to rock her so that she would believe her instincts were off about the intrusion into the house. If she’d been paying closer attention, she would have noticed it for what it was.

  “Dammit!” she yelled into the dark as she rushed back into the room to get dressed.

  Frantically, she packed clothes and weapons into a backpack, strapped her usual gear onto her body, and left Dakota’s apartment.

  She would be foolish to not see this for what it was: a trap. It was unlikely either of them would make it out of Vincent’s grasp, but she would do whatever it took t
o save Dakota. She had to.

  She would rescue him or die trying.

  It was late morning by the time she reached the docks. The smell of saltwater mixed with the sulfur from the Brutes filled her lungs and her stomach churned.

  She didn’t see any Brutes, but they were nearby. Vincent probably just told them to stay out of sight. Couldn’t have them ruining his heroic reputation, now could he?

  She stepped inside, and nearly walked straight into Mitch. He grinned at her, a sick smile of satisfaction and pride that he’d manipulated her into coming. “About damn time you started exercising some common sense, girl.”

  For the first time in her life, there was no fear when she looked at him. “I don’t have time for you.” She walked past him, and he gripped her arm.

  Anastasia nearly spun on him, ready to conjure a ball of magic, but she paused. She had to play her cards right; she couldn’t risk Vincent killing Dakota.

  “You’ll want to let go of my arm, Mitch.” She smiled sweetly, but the threat was evident in her tone.

  “You had better listen to my niece,” Vincent commanded. Mitch released her arm with a huff.

  She turned to face Vincent.

  “I'm glad you came,” he said.

  “I wasn’t given much of a choice. Where is he?”

  “He’s still alive, for now.”

  “I want to see him.”

  “Soon,” Vincent promised, holding his arm out. “Let’s take a walk.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “I want to see him.”

  Vincent laughed. “You definitely got your stubbornness from your father’s side of the family. Very well, let’s go.”

  Anastasia followed him through a maze of crates and into a small room that had once been a shipping office. Dakota was tied to a chair, his head down, and there were no visible injuries. His chest rose and fell normally, and Anastasia felt a small relief in seeing him alive.