And Derek had brought them right to the gate.

“Vincent!” I screamed.

He did not hear me over the sound of his own struggle.

He had his forearm pressed against Derek’s throat.

Derek was scratching at Vincent’s face, drawing blood.

“Vincent, listen to me!” I yelled louder.

I ran toward them.

I grabbed Vincent’s shoulder.

“The Valentis are here,” I said, my voice shaking.

Vincent stopped for a fraction of a second.

His eyes locked onto mine.

In that moment of distraction, Derek slammed his forehead into Vincent’s nose.

There was a sickening crunch.

Vincent fell backward onto the gravel, clutching his nose.

Derek scrambled away, gasping for air.

He looked toward the water.

Three large, black speedboats emerged from the fog.

They had no lights on.

Only the dim reflection of the moon caught their steel hulls.

Men in black tactical gear stood on the bows.

They were holding automatic rifles.

“They are going to kill us all,” I whispered.

Vincent sat up, his nose bleeding heavily.

He wiped the blood away with his sleeve.

He looked at the approaching boats.