“Dante,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

Before he could answer, the overhead lights in the stable flickered once and went completely black.

The backup generators did not turn on.

Only the low, red emergency lights along the floor hummed to life, casting long, bloody shadows across the stone walls.

On the metal tray, Dante’s phone suddenly lit up with a silent security alert.

Dante’s thumb swiped across the screen, the pale blue glow of the display cutting through the red gloom.

“The main gate feed is down,” he said, his voice flat and cold.

“What about the backup?” I asked, my hands still pressed against Vesper’s warm flank.

“Dead. Someone cut the hardlines.”

He slipped the phone into his pocket and drew a heavy, black semi-automatic pistol from beneath his coat.

The metallic click of the safety coming off echoed in the quiet stable.

Vesper gave a low, nervous snort, his nostrils flaring as he smelled the tension in the air.

“We don’t have time,” I said, looking down at the dark puncture wound. “If I don’t get this metal out now, the infection will travel up the tendon. He won’t walk again.”