The line went dead, and Quinn tossed the phone to the ground. The next few minutes felt like hours. Hours in which his entire life seemed to replay before his eyes. Was this what he wanted for Oliver? The same debauched life he’d led, all because the woman he’d loved with all his heart hadn’t loved him back? What was in store for Oliver? Would he be rejected too?

Oliver was still in his arms. He neither stirred nor moaned. Quinn put his fingers to his neck. No pulse. It could mean one of two things: the turning had started, or he was already dead. There was no way of telling.

With his thumb, he pried an eyelid away from his eye to look at the boy’s iris. It was still the way a human’s eye looked. During the turning, it would turn entirely black, leaving not a single spec of white until the process was finished. But so far, the tell-tale black color was nowhere to be seen.

Quinn felt his hand shake. What if it didn’t work? Or was it not meant to? What if Oliver wasn’t meant to survive? Maybe it was better this way, better that he wouldn’t be subjected to a life in the darkness. But who was he to judge? He wished he knew what Oliver wanted. But he’d never made the effort to really get to know him. After all, he’d only met him on a few occasions, and during most of those, Oliver had stuck to Samson and Zane, who he seemed to idolize.

Screeching tires and the beam of headlights alerted him that he wasn’t alone anymore. Quinn turned his head and saw Zane’s Hummer arrive behind the crashed SUV. From it jumped two people: Zane and Amaury.

Quinn let out a deep breath. Good. Those two would know what to do. As they rushed toward him, another car door slammed, making him jerk once more. From the corner of his eye, he saw another figure emerge. He recognized him as Cain, the vampire who had joined Scanguards only a short time earlier after helping them eradicate a group, which had planned to create a master race of hybrids.

“Oh, fuck,” Zane cursed as he reached him.

He instantly dropped down and examined Oliver’s body. “You did the right thing.” He pointed at the torn muscle and flesh in his stomach region from which even now blood was oozing. “He would have never survived it.”

Quinn met his friend’s gaze. He’d never been so glad to see the bald vampire than at this moment. “I was making jokes in the car. I distracted him.”

He suddenly felt a big hand on his shoulder and looked up. Amaury towered over him. His linebacker-sized friend gave him an encouraging nod. “It’s all good. He’s young and strong. He’ll make it.”

Then Amaury turned to Cain. “We’ve gotta clean up before a passerby alerts the police or an ambulance.”

Cain nodded, his dark hair looking almost black in the dim light. “No prob.”

He and Amaury instantly went toward the toppled crane.

Zane reached for Oliver. “Let’s get him in the car and take him back to Samson’s.”

Quinn pulled his prodigy closer. “I can take care of him.”

Zane raised his hands in capitulation. “Didn’t mean to . . . ” His voice died. “I know you can do it.” Then he rose to his feet and motioned to Amaury and Cain.

“The tow truck should be here in a few minutes. If you need anything else . . . ”

Amaury waved him off. “Go. We’ll take care of this.”

With Oliver in his arms, Quinn rose, accepting Zane’s strong arm in the process. He briefly nodded his head at his two colleagues. “Thanks, Amaury, Cain.”

“See you at the house when we’re done here,” Amaury replied as he braced his body against the crane, Cain at his side.

Slowly, Quinn turned, the weight of Oliver’s body suddenly weighing him down. His knees buckled. If Zane hadn’t grabbed his elbow and propped him up, he would have collapsed.

The realization of what kind of life he’d imposed on the young man in his arms suddenly crashed in over him.

“Oh, God, what have I done?” he murmured.

6

“You need to feed.”

Quinn whipped his head toward Samson, who had quietly entered the guestroom. He stared at his boss, but barely saw his tall and dark features. Once more, he blinked, trying to wipe the remainder of blood from his eyes. He hadn’t even cleaned up yet and still wore his torn clothes. The dirt of the accident site still clung to his skin and clothes.

He’d been sitting at Oliver’s bedside for the last few hours, waiting for a sign that the kid would make it. His eyes had turned black, giving Quinn hope that things would turn out all right.

“Not now,” he answered.