The confrontation wasn't a duel; it was an execution attempt foiled by a split-second of raw desperation. When Vladimir plunged into the shadows of the library's shelving aisles after Damon, the room, which was immense and empty save for the hundreds of steel racks, became a lethal cage.

I huddled against the cool stone pillar, trying to draw a breath, but the pressure in my core was a violent, suffocating knot. The initial contraction had passed, leaving me shaking, weak, and utterly exposed. ...