Page 93 of Lethal King

Each time Leander’s bodyguards try to form a protective perimeter, we cut through them like a savage machete. And by the time I manage to massacre my way through the corpse-covered driveway, to the back of the beach house, the sand is already drenched in blood.

I add to the flood.

“These must be Leander’s men,” Maksim points out as I pick off the last of them. His voice crackles over my earpiece. A few quick gunshots erupt on his end. “They’re weak.”

Back by the front, I hear another one of our grenades go off. The stone driveway must be completely destroyed by now.

Lifting my gun, I put a bullet in a body flailing down by the shoreline.

“That begs the question,” I grumble, turning back to the beachfront property. “Why the fuck would Rozalia and Tytus want to align themselves with someone this weak?”

On the second floor of the opulent beige mansion, a window breaks. I only see the glint of a rifle’s scope before I hit the deck.

A round of bullets rip over my head. I roll through the blood-soaked sand, avoiding their trail.

“Do we have anyone inside yet?” I ask, finding cover behind a small pile of fresh corpses.

“Not yet. Whoever is protecting the foyer has a better shot than any of the poor saps outside.”

Rozalia. It must be.

And even if it’s not, I’m willing to take any chances.

My plans for her don’t involve a funeral.

“Remind the men that we don’t kill women. If a single bullet comes anywhere near Rozalia Dorn, there will be hell to pay.”

“Understood,” Maksim listens. “I’ll hold down the fort out front then. Are you going to sneak in the back?”

Another flurry of bullets rip into the dead bodies protecting my position. Blood and guts spurt into the air as the morning seagulls squawk above.

“I’m going to need a distraction,” I explain. “Draw all fire towards the front. Can you do that for me?”

“Consider it done.”

I don’t concern myself with what Maksim is going to do. He has my trust. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out another round and load it into my gun.

I’m ready to fight my way into that house. But before I can, something happens. Something that stops the chaos in its tracks.

An odd stillness takes over the beach—even the bullets coming from the second-story window stop.

“What’s happening?” I ask, pressing down into my earpiece.

“I don’t know,” Maksim responds. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Why did you stop firing?”

“Because they did.”

“That’s not a good excuse, I—”

“Oh shit,” Maksim interrupts.

That’s a rarity for him.

“What?” I demand to know.

“She’s here.”