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“Yes, sir,” Bash says loudly into his mic.
We all wince, feedback screeching.
Bash grabs his ladder. “What? I was just testing it.”
I look at my brothers all geared up and ready to go against the worst odds fucking possible. “Don’t fucking die.”
“Aw, he does love us,” Bash says, leaning into Xander, who smiles as he pushes him off. “Let’s go fucking kill these bastards and get our sister back.”
Matthias sets up his ladder first and grabs my shoulder. “I know you want to get to your girl, but we need to level the numbers first. If you go in there now, you’ll have forty men up your ass with automatic weapons.”
“I wouldn’t leave you anyway. Never have.”
I step out of his grasp and head another twenty feet down before setting myself up. The cinder block walls, stacked fifteen feet high, provide the perfect cover. The silence is deafening as I crest the top, scanning the area. A slow smile pulls at my lips as a patrol steps directly below me. I’m going to enjoy this.
My knife’s in my hand when I drop down behind him, the force of the drop rattling through my bones. Before he can turn, I slice across his throat, warm liquid immediately covering my hand. The man looks back at me, rage turning to fear as he gurgles, drowning in his own blood.
I pull him close, whispering into his ear. “You picked the wrong family to fuck with.”
The wall casts a shadow perfect for hiding his body. There are steps coming from the right, and I duck behind a crate just in time for another patrol to show up. The dim light catches the raised scar on his face. This isn’t his first fight, but it doesn’t matter because he’s going down anyway.
I reach down, grabbing a broken piece of wood from the pallet, and toss it to the side, drawing his attention. By the time he realizes what’s happening, it’s too late. I grab his shoulder and jab my knife upward into his throat, severing the major arteries. He grabs my hips on his way down, ripping at my holsters with his nearly dead fingers. I don’t have time to get it back from him as three more men approach. I stalk around the crates, coming up behind them, taking them out one at a time.
My heart pounds in my chest as I look at the blood staining my hands and sleeves. I led my brothers into a fucking bloodbath.Even if we do walk out of here, what kind of damage will they be left with?
“Four motherfuckers.” Bash’s voice crackles through the mic.
Xander laughs. “That’s it? I’m at seven. The bastards are everywhere. Easy picking.”
A second later. “Eight and nine. You’re fucking slow.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Matthias says, then adds, “Fifteen.”
A smirk curls at my lips. They’ll be fine. Twisted, but fine. I cut a path through the patrols while my brothers one-up each other in kill count. We’re cutting down almost too easy.
Five shots in quick succession come from where Bash and Xander are, and I’m already running toward them before I’ve processed it.
“Bash. Bash!” Xander’s voice grows desperate, and I move faster, not even bothering to hide myself. We’d killed at least forty of the fifty men, thinning them out significantly.
“Fucking answer me.” Xander’s voice cracks. We’re all close, but the two of them have something special.
“Hold your fucking horses, man. I had to finish killing him. The bastard shot me in the fucking arm.”
Relief crashes through me, and I lean against the crates for support, sucking in breaths to try to regain some semblance of control. “Xander, get to Bash.”
“Already on my way.”
“Aw, were you worried about me?”
“Guns out, boys. Hide-and-seek is over,” Matthias cuts them off, punctuated by gunshots through the comms.
I reach for my gun and remember that scar face ripped them off just as large spotlights light up the entire area. Fuck. I shift around a crate, hiding myself from the gunners.
They open up fire at Xander and Bash, who I can now see clearly. They’re tucked behind a forklift now peppered with holes.
The second gun moves to the middle, right on top of Matthias. “Fuck, I’m pinned.”
There’s a ten-foot kill zone between me and the building. I grab the dead patrolman’s foot and pull him toward me, prying the gun from his tight fist. “I’m crossing it. Don’t fucking die.”
