Come Fill Me (The Prophecy) by Tina Donahue

the heavily shadowed landscape, just another indistinct form beneath the frail threads of moonlight.
    Zeke pulled Liz to its back doors. She wanted to fight him but wasn’t certain if she should.
    He’d said her father was safe.
    Was it possible he was inside the vehicle? She looked at the small windows at the top of its doors.
    A new wave of gunfire sounded from within, so faint it must have come from the other side of the mansion. Not trusting the battle to remain there, Liz glanced over, expecting the worst.
    Two men dashed outside, each gripping an assault rifle. Spare weapons and two-way radios bounced from belts slung across their chests. They were dressed in black, their sharp, Native American features resembling Zeke’s.
    Still holding on to her, he asked, “Losses?”
    “None that we know of,” the stockier of his men said, then glanced at Zeke’s chest illuminated by a slash of light from inside. His brows lifted at the healed bullet wounds and fresh scratches from Liz’s nails. After sneaking a peek at her, he continued, “Aaron, Ike and Samuel are still in there. We disabled the security system and cameras first as planned.” Concern flashed across his face. “Some of Carreon’s men escaped through passages in the walls. We tried to follow but couldn’t.”
    “Our guys are continuing to search,” the other man promised, his face a mask, not revealing his thoughts. “They won’t leave until the job’s finished.”
    Swearing beneath his breath, Zeke opened the van’s back door. “We can’t wait for them. We need to go now.”
    As his men strode to the front of the vehicle, Liz peered into its darkened interior, looking for her father. A large shadow to the left caught her attention, until she realized it was a cache of weapons. Her heart fell, even as hope hung on.
    “He’s safe,” Zeke had said.
    She wanted to believe him but couldn’t imagine how he could be telling her the truth.
    Why would his men help her father? Why would any of them rescue her when Carreon had said Zeke wanted her dead so that his life and his people’s would be easier without her healing their enemies?
    “Get in,” he ordered.
    She didn’t—wouldn’t, not until she saw her father again. Turning to Zeke, she leveled with him. “I know you’re planning to kill me. I also know that I won’t be able to stop it no matter what I say or do. So I’m asking you to execute me here. Let me be with my father again. Please.”
    “Execute you?” Indignation and shock colored his question.
    Whether his reaction was genuine or an act, Liz had no idea. Nor did she care. She was so tired of fighting, so weary from worry. “Just let me see him one last time,” she begged. “Then do what you want to me. It doesn’t matter any longer.”
    He arched one dark brow. “You’d offer your life for a moment with your father? You care so much for him?”
    Was he serious? She made a face. “As much as you care for the woman I took you from, the one you were trying to reach before I healed you.”
    He stared at her, misery sweeping his features. Quick tears sparkled in his eyes, making him seem oddly young. The boy Liz had imagined him to be, after which she’d chided herself for such a foolish fantasy.
    “As much as you obviously loved your wife,” she said, “I also love—”
    “I was back with Gabrielle, my daughter,” he interrupted, then cleared his throat before continuing. “She was eight years old when Carreon’s men murdered her, her mother and a dozen other women from our clan, many of them elderly. My men and I had just taken them to another child’s birthday party when they attacked.”
    Liz’s stomach rolled. On instinct, as one person to another, she rested her hand on his forearm.
    Zeke’s muscles bunched while the rest of him went rigid, his expression telling her he didn’t want pity or concern from someone like her.
    Embarrassed, Liz brought back her hand and curled her fingers into a loose fist.