Page 79 of Lucian

Revenge was sweet.

At two feet away, Lucian’s Eagle met the man’s forehead, stopping him. “I told you it’d blow off your face.”

It did.

Lucian didn’t flinch at the after spray of fluid, blood, and matter.

“What the fuck are you doing?” someone yelled from their right. “This isn’t your—”

Dante cocked his hammer back and put a bullet directly above the man’s head, shutting him up instantly. “Quiet. It’s disrespectful to interrupt someone. And for the record, I did not miss you, asshole.”

“You son of a whore.”

With a sigh, Dante pulled back the trigger again. This time, the bullet hit the target. Straight in the chest, knocking the man backwards from the force. Blood splattered to the wall as wide eyes stared back, already dying. Feminine screams answered the shot.

“Let’s not do that again,” Dante said, turning back to the room unaffected and emotionless. “And by that, I mean making remarks about my mother. I don’t like it.”

“Pull out a gun and I will shoot you,” Lucian said loudly. “Move and I will shoot you. Look me in the eyes and I will shoot you. It’s pretty fucking simple. The quicker we say what we want to say, and get what we came to get, the faster we’ll be gone.”

“Someone burned down my father’s building last night,” Dante continued for his brother. “That doesn’t make a Don very happy. Imagine his shock to find out The Sons of Hell were involved in that kind of nonsense. We thought we’d made ourselves clear the last time we were here. Hadn’t we?”

Not all of the men seemed afraid, but the girls did. Lucian didn’t pay them any mind.

“Hey, hey—”

The leather vested dumbass getting up from a table, still clearly drunk given his swaying, was interrupted by the rapid assault fire coming from the back. Again, everyone in the building that Lucian could see seemed to have the same one of two reactions. They either froze, or tried to scurry for safe shelter.

“That’d just be my brother,” Dante said with a cruel smile. “He’s really trigger happy.”

“So those in the backrooms aren’t going to save you for those that had any heroic ideas,” Lucian finished.

They waited out the thirty seconds it took Gio to come down the back hallway until he was leaning in the doorway that separated the backrooms from the main space. Gio nodded to say he had his section handled.

“Where’s Will?” Lucian asked the room.

Silence answered him back.

Frustration growing, he aimed his Eagle at the closest MC member in his vicinity, hoping it would get the point across. Killing these men didn’t bother him, not after what they allowed to happen to Jordyn.

“I’m only going to ask one more time, and then I’m going to start shooting. I sincerely hope you fucking idiots can get this mess cleaned up before the police start breaking down doors. Where is Will Vetta?”

Again, no one answered.

Lucian pulled back the trigger and didn’t even blink. No emotion weighed the bullet down. He didn’t bother to watch the man as he cried out in pain and fell from his chair. More blood soaked into the cheaply carpeted floor. The two people at the table didn’t make a move to help him, either. Everyone had to make sacrifices.

“That’s three,” Dante informed. “Care to go for four?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Lucian watched someone rise from behind the bar counter, a gun aimed straight for Dante. Neither of his brother’s seemed to notice the threat, and Lucian’s Eagle was still aimed at the room.

Quickly, he grabbed the other weapon stashed in the back of his pants, slipped off the safety, cocked back the hammer, and aimed. Lucian didn’t miss, and the force of the bullet entering the man’s jaw pushed him back into the wall with a bang.

“Jesus,” Dante mumbled. “Thanks.”

“Eyes open, man,” Lucian responded. He turned back to the room, seriously hoping everyone realized no one was playing around now. “Second best question. Where’s Ron?”

“Right here,” came the gruff, quiet response from the darker back end of the room.

Ron Daney raised his hand from the table of men who had been talking when Lucian and Dante entered the club. Turning slowly in his chair, Ron met Lucian’s gaze from across the floor, seemingly unafraid. He looked tired, though, and maybe even over what was happening around him.