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A gun. Of course.
I swallow, the grim urgency permeating the car suddenly feeling all too real and immediate.
“Do you remember how to use it?” he asks, an intensity behind his pale gaze that reminds me just how much he cares about me.
It settles my nerves, and I nod. Then, hoping for one of those illusive almost-smiles of his, I say, “Just aim at anyone with one of those stupid gold rings and pull the trigger, right?”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Exactly.” Then all humor drains from his face, and he closes his hand around mine, gripping the gun’s stock with me. “Let’s review the basics.”
He makes me run through it a few times, and once he’s satisfied, I look up and find Dante’s eyes pinned on me through the rearview mirror.
“Bottom line, kill them before they kill you, princess. That’s non-negotiable.”
I nod, my stomach clenching with nerves.
“Almost there,” Maddoc says from the driver’s seat. He turns to Dante. “Call and tell Isaac to open the big door for us. We’re coming in hot, and Vic and Amari should be right behind us.”
Dante is on the phone before Maddoc finishes speaking, and a few seconds later we’re speeding down a side street toward a warehouse that wouldn’t look out of the ordinary at all if it wasn’t on fire.
“Shit,” Maddoc snarls as a bullet ricochets off the hood of our SUV. “Hold on tight.”
My knuckles are already white from gripping the door handle and the gun Logan gave me, but I squeeze both a little tighter and close my eyes as Maddoc barrels up a small service ramp, straight into the warehouse at a speed that would have taken him right through the door if his people hadn’t managed to get it open at the last second.
“Stay down and stay away from the fucking windows,” he shouts, shielding me with his body as we get out of the vehicle.
The all-too-familiar sound of gunfire ricochets around us, and I’ve got no idea whatsoever what the game plan is here. I just know that I’m not letting my men get in the way of any of those bullets without doing whatever I can to take out the shooter.
“Vic’s gonna hold this entrance,” Dante says as Logan melts into the smoky interior, low and fast and deadly. “Amari will flush out the attackers and try to salvage the product.”
“No.” Maddoc grabs him, his face a stone mask. “People first. The fire’s spreading. We’ll take them out and deal with the rest once our men are secure.”
Dante nods sharply, then shoves Maddoc to the side and fires off a series of rapid shots at a shape I can barely make out in the dim, hazy light. The shape drops, and gunfire erupts all around us as someone—the one they call Amari, I think—starts laying down cover fire for a group of men who look familiar.
Reapers, I’m sure of it.
There are at least a dozen of them, and they give us quick nods and a few looks of relief when they see us. The smell of smoke is almost choking me, and the oxygen rushing in from the open roll-up door behind us has the flames deeper in the building roaring even higher.
I haven’t seen anyone from West Point yet, but their bullets are flying at us in a steady barrage, and I see why Maddoc had us come in. The warehouse doesn’t have a lot in the way of solid cover, and the SUV is a shield as much as a getaway vehicle.
Glass shatters somewhere overhead, shards of it raining down from the windows near the rafters, and somehow, the Reapers keep coordinating with each other through the chaos. Trying to clear an exit route for some of the Reapers that are trapped on the far side of all that gunfire.
“Stay close to me,” Maddoc says, his gun trained on the open garage door as he pulls me behind him. “They’re ramping this shit up.”
He’s right. Even I can tell that the gunfire is steadier now, the thundering roar of it almost nonstop. Suddenly, out of the smoke, I make out two guys running toward us, then another and another after that.
These aren’t Reapers. They’re coming at us with guns blazing, moving together like a well-oiled machine as they escalate the attack and make my blood run cold with fear.
“Maddoc!” I scream, tugging his arm.
He doesn’t duck; he moves in front of me. Lifts his arm and takes aim, moving in tandem with the Reapers arrayed around us.
One by one, the attackers fall back or go down, but each time, another is there to take their place.
My hand shakes, but I lift my own gun and flip the safety off, aiming past Maddoc’s shoulder. Determined to do my part to be an asset, not a liability. To help hold them back long enough to make a difference.
I shoot, and a surge of vicious satisfaction that’s almost sexual goes through me when my bullet clips one of the attackers in his shoulder, causing him to spin to the side.
But the shot he was about to take goes wild, hitting one of the Reapers near us.
