Chapter 159

Oliver’s POV The muzzle of Maeve’s pistol gleamed in the dim light. A Beretta 92FS, old but reliable—standard issue back in the war when rogues were stockpiling weapons. Twelve rounds max. I doubt she had reload once since that night she shot Luke, which meant there couldn’t have been more than six or seven left. I felt Henry’s thoughts brushing against mine through the bond we had honed over centuries. He didn’t need words; the way his shoulders shifted told me he’d already read Maeve’s mind and confirmed what I suspected. Six rounds. That was all. She pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through the air with a hiss, grazing the edge of my shoulder before shattering against the wall. I felt the burn, but I didn’t stop moving. She was faster than most fledglings I’d seen, but Henry and I had fought creatures older and stronger than her when we were barely out of our first century. Reina lunged from the side, claws extended. Henry caught her motion before I even did, his gift letting him