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I stare at him in shock. Bones too? Fuck. How have we all got it this bad after only two days?
Hatchet catches my gaze, amusement written all over his silent face. I shrug. We’re behaving like we’ve never seen a pussy before. It hasn’t beenthatlong for some of us. We need to get a grip.
I take a deep breath and slowly let it out before turning my attention back to Kayla. Ghost and Night are still crouched around her, and it looks like Ghost is trying to wake her up.
“What do we do now?” I ask evenly.
Bones steps forward. “We need to get her out of here. The job’s done, so I guess back to the helipad?”
I nod. Yeah that makes sense. “Okay, do you think the limo has waited for us?”
“Hope so. I’m not carrying his ass back to the chopper,” Bones mutters, already moving towards the door after stepping over Snow’s body.
I move over to Night and Ghost, and carefully lift Kayla into my arms. They glare at me but don’t argue, as I’m probably the strongest out of all of us.
As I hold Kayla close to my chest, I look down at her. She’s a mess, her hair is matted with sweat and blood, and her clothes are torn. I can smell the metallic tang of blood mixed with a slight hint of burning that I don’t want to think about. It’s never nice when the shock chip is used, and we’ve all learnt the hard way that you can’t say no to the asylum.
“We need to move, now,” I say firmly, urging Night and Ghost to follow me. They exchange a glance before nodding in agreement. We move in unison, like a well-oiled machine, each of us covering the other’s back. Hatchet remains behind to deal with Snow. Part of me wants to shout to leave him, but there will be hell to pay for all of us if we leave a man behind. It’s not worth it.He’snot worth it.
As we step out of the building, the night air hits me like a wall. It’s cold and damp, with a hint of rain in the air. The sky is overcast, and the moon is hidden behind a veil of clouds. We move quickly, our footsteps echoing on the deserted driveway.
Kayla’s breathing is becoming more laboured, and I know we need to move faster. I pick up my pace, really feeling the dead weight of her body in my arms. The adrenaline is pumping through my veins, and my heart is racing. We need to get her to the chopper, and fast.
As we round a corner on the driveway, I catch a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye. I turn just in time to see a figure lunging towards us. I barely have time to react before Night tackles the figure to the ground, his knife glinting in the moonlight.
“Keep moving,” he growls, as I watch him viciously stab the figure over and over again. Ghost pulls me along, and we move quickly towards the limo. The sounds of fighting behind us are a distraction, but I don’t dare look back.
Finally, we reach the limo, and Ghost opens the door so that I can load Kayla into the back. I can see the worry etched on his face and again, it surprises me. Does he see her as more than just a piece of ass to claim?
My leg bounces anxiously as we wait for the others to join us. Snow and Hatchet appear first. Snow’s sporting quite a few bumps and bruises, not to mention a killer black eye already starting to form courtesy of Bones, and I grin at him.
Hatchet raises a brow at me and I shake my head.
“We’re waiting on Night. Someone attacked us on our way back but he’s taking care of it.”
No sooner have the words left my mouth than footsteps approach us. We all tense up, ready for another fight, but Night emerges from the shadows, his knife and face stained with blood. He wipes the blade on his suit trousers before getting into the limo with us.
“Let’s go,” he says simply, and the driver hits the gas, the tires screeching as we speed off into the night.
Kayla’s body is shaking in my arms, the shock chip still doing its work. I stroke her hair gently, trying to comfort her as best I can. I can’t help but wonder how long it will take for her to recover from this ordeal.
As we drive through the deserted streets, I can’t help but feel a sense of unease settle over me. We’ve completed our mission, but at what cost? Snow and Hatchet are both injured, Kayla is barely conscious, and Night is covered in blood. And for what? Money? Power? It all seems so senseless now.
I glance over at Night and see a look of determination etched into his features. Despite the chaos we’ve caused tonight, he seems unfazed. He craves this kind of violence. I mean, to an extent, we all do. But it’s not as much fun as it once was. Especially when you’re just a puppet and someone else is pulling the strings. It got old, fast. And yet we have no choice.
Night catches my eye and nods towards the backseat where Kayla is slumped over, her breathing shallow and erratic. We both know what needs to be done.
“We need to take care of her,” Night says, his voice low and steady.
I nod my agreement, already reaching for the first aid kit stowed under my seat. As I tend to Kayla’s superficial wounds, I can’t help but wonder how each of us got here. Kayla in particular.
How did we become these people?
I remember the days when I was just part of a ragtag group of misfits, pulling off small-time heists for the thrill of it. But then we caught the attention of a local motorcycle gang, who promised us bigger scores and more excitement. I was so naïve and hungry for adventure, so I followed them down a dangerous path.
The first life I took was accidental. Protecting Bait, the leader of The Sharks. Stupid name for a stupid gang I wish I’d never got involved with. But he liked that I stuck my neck on the line for him, and made me his favourite. Before I knew it, I was his go-to killing machine, and I didn’t hesitate to serve him because I was just a stupid awe-struck kid looking for recognition.
I served his ass for my entire teenage years, and most of my twenties, until he spectacularly let me take the fall, stitching me up with the cops and painting me as a psycho serial killer.
