Chapter 2

Down at the Docks

Ranked names mean everything to a rebel. Beginning with the letters A through G, these names are given when a rebel is assigned a team, a new identity entirely devoted to the cause.

Names starting with A and B designate leadership positions. Every team has a leader and a second-in-command. Rebels with a C-name are snipers trained in both rifles and bows. Ground fighters have names beginning with D and E—they choose to specialize in firearms or blades. F is for the team’s tech support, and they stay on base for missions, relaying information and satellite visuals through communications links. And last of the ranked names is the letter G—the spies sent on dangerous intel-gathering missions.

Rebels who have names of any other letter are not ranked as team members and do not fight against the vampire scourge. They are support: hunters, farmers, cooks, and builders—just as essential, though some may disagree.

Echo had earned his name at the age of nineteen. Axel was his team leader, Bear was the second-in-command, Cross was their sniper, Dusk specialized in firearms, and Fade was their support at the compound.

Echo handled the blades. He was the quickest and stealthiest of the team and so was given the kill directive for this mission.

The docks were shrouded in midnight darkness. The vampires could see better than humans, so Echo pressed against the metal shipping container. He was dressed in all form-fitting black, his hair tied up tight. He touched the handle of his favorite knife, keeping it in the thigh holster until the right time, as glinting silver could give away his position.

About a hundred yards away, his target stood watching his lackeys as they pushed dozens of humans into shipping containers. Echo’s gut clenched, and his back stung against the skin-tight fabric, grounding him to the moment. Dante Vittori deserved to die, and Echo would be his reaper.

Dante’s office was located in the warehouse near Echo. He only needed to wait for the vampire to walk by. Then Echo could strike.

He tried not to look too closely at the slaves. Axel said they could do nothing for them, that killing Dante would save future lives. Still, Echo didn’t miss their terror and sorrow. A woman held tight to the hand of a crying child. Echo expected the vampires to separate them, to beat the child to silence. The bloodsuckers cared nothing for the familial bonds between humans. Echo remembered very little of his own mother, who’d been used as a breeding tool when she’d outlived her use as a bed slave.

He planted his feet into the pavement, telling himself not to ruin the mission by attempting to save the already-doomed pair. But to his surprise, the vampires let them be. They were boxed up together—a small mercy since death awaited them anyway.

Dante turned away from the scene. Echo couldn’t make out the features of his face in half-shadows, but his presence stood out from the rest of the vampires. He was the boss here, unmistakably.

He started toward Echo. His crisp white shirt was rolled up to the elbows, and a black tattoo stretched over his muscular forearm. Echo shoved curiosity aside and lightened his stance, ready to strike at just the right moment.

“Hold,” the voice of Axel said in his earpiece, and Echo immediately obeyed. He watched as Dante strolled by, disappearing into the warehouse and losing the moment.

Echo didn’t understand. Dante had been right there. The held-back tension crackled through his limbs, and he clutched the knife hilt. But he didn’t say a word; he only waited for further orders.

“We’re getting infrared on the warehouse. Standby,” Fade said.

Echo scanned the area. No other vampires had gone into the warehouse with Dante, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any inside.

“It’s clear. Only one vamp,” Fade said.

“Do not fail, Echo,” said Axel.

“Understood, sir.”

Then Echo slipped into the warehouse.

It was dark, the only light coming from the office window on the second floor, where Dante would be. Echo walked silently between crowded aisles of stacked boxes. He stayed alert for any vamps that might come in. He headed for the metal stairs. There would be no cover on those steps; he’d need to fly up quickly and quietly.

Echo looked around. Though Fade said the building was clear, it was eerily quiet—the kind of silence surrounding a hunter before striking prey. Uneasiness flooded through Echo as he took the first step up.

“Echo, get out of there!” a voice rang in his ear, Cross’s.

He whirled around just as a vampire flitted from behind the boxes and seemed to materialize right in front of Echo. He fell back on the metal steps, but he equipped his knife in that split-second, holding it between him and the vampire.

“What have we here?” the bloodsucker said, his lips curling and revealing his fangs. He was probably one of Dante’s soldiers.

Echo had lost his best advantages against a vampire: stealth and the element of surprise. But he would not go down easily.

He launched up, the silver blade aimed for the vampire’s chest, but the vampire skirted to the side with ease. Sick laughter assaulted the air, and Echo gritted his teeth. Defeat was inevitable now, as Dante would be called down any second. Echo would then be tortured for information, then killed. Drained of blood when they figured out his rating.

So Echo did what all rebels were taught to do upon capture. He wouldn’t turn his failure into betrayal.

Without hesitation, he raised the knife to his neck.

“Oh, no you don’t.” And before Echo could end it, the vampire grabbed his wrist and wrenched the blade away. “We’re going to have some fun, little assassin.”

Echo felt a heavy blow to his temple before crumpling unconscious into the arms of the vampire. Mission failure.