This is an extract from my baby (my novel) that I'm working on, it still needs some serious work, I know, but I'm working on it all day every day, well, when I'm not busy, which is never. May add more extracts in the future.

Extract from chapter 8.

"How would you like to die?" Vince whispered in my ear, his voice low and laced with humour. He was clearly enjoying himself, playing with a small human that he could break in a second like a toy. But he underestimated me, everyone did. I began to wonder how many girls he had lured away and killed since he had begun to live the life he was living now.

I squirmed again and had enough room to close my hand around the butt of the gun, the metal cold against my palm. I moved my arm slightly and pulled the gun out, just managing to aim the barrel at Mike and his smirking face that I so desperately wanted to punch. Mike didn't notice the gun and neither did Vince, I just managed to keep the gun from touching him.

Mike leaned forwards, his lips pulling back to his molars to expose wickedly sharp fangs and I squeezed the trigger like Luke had told me to in the shooting range. Mike jerked back, blackish blood exploding from the hole in his chest right over his heart. Vince gasped as Mike dropped to the floor and I slammed my head back. It connected with his nose and I felt the bone snap against the back of my head, blood wetting my hair. Vince howled in pain and let go of me, his hands going to his nose to cradle it. I stepped forwards quickly and spun around, lifting the gun to shoot him. Another gunshot rang out, echoing down the alleyway and it made me stop. Vince stared at me, blood pouring from the hole that had suddenly appeared in his chest and he pitched backwards, hitting the floor hard. He didn't move, not that I expected him too.

Luke stood at the end of the alleyway, gun in hand and raised at where Vince had been standing. He grinned and headed over to me, tucking the gun away, as I dusted myself off. I kicked the body of Mike with my left foot and frowned.

"They were going to kill you, so Dante didn't send them," he said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. "He still doesn't know where you are, thank god."

"Oh, on the contrary," a voice said behind us. We turned to see Dante stood at the end of the alleyway, watching us and grinning, arms hanging loosely at his sides. "I know exactly where she is."