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With lightning speed, Cathal’s fist crashes into the scarred man’s face, at the same time as he drags his knife out of the back of his pants, that wicked looking, curved blade that is a thing of beauty. One punch from Cathal is all it takes for him to drop to the floor with a sickening crunch, his nose flattened and blood spurting out everywhere. Before the others can react, Cathal grabs the one called Mikey in a chokehold, squeezing mercilessly, his blade gleaming in the low-level pub lights.
“Still feeling brave, Mikey?” he growls. “Ready to challenge me now?”
Mikey’s face turns purple, his hands clawing uselessly at Cathal’s arm. The rest of the gang watches in stunned silence, afraid to intervene.
I move to stand guard over the groaning scarred man, pulling my gun out and aiming it in his face to discourage any ideas of jumping back up to help. Too bad Mikey is a goner, and he doesn’t even know it yet.
Cathal loosens his chokehold on Mikey, who thinks he’s gotten away with it, so he doesn’t expect the blade. Thal draws it across Mikey’s throat, a deep and final cut that he won’t survive.
Blood spatters up, spraying some of the men closest to them and they gulp, their faces pale as they witness the brutal execution of their fellow gang member.
Cathal hurls Mikey away in disgust. The man crumples to the floor at Thal’s feet, gurgling before he goes quiet. His companion stays down, blood streaming from his shattered nose., staring in shock at his dead friend.
“Anyone else?” Cathal asks, deathly quiet.
Everyone stares at the floor, avoiding his gaze.
“Good,” Cathal nods firmly. “Then this matter is settled. We’re merging operations and that’s final. Get on board or you’re six feet under.”
He turns and stalks away, the picture of barely contained rage. I follow close behind.
“Think they got the message,” I mutter with a soft snicker.
“Fucking cunts,” Cathal growls.
Looking up, I see Summer staring at us, her face pale but as blank as she can get in the moment. She licks her lips and swallows before she rises slowly. I shake my head and she sits down again. It’s not that I don’t trust Cathal with her, but in this particular moment, I’m not risking her.
“Fuckin’ traitors,” Cathal spits, his words laced with venom. The darkness in his eyes mirrors the storm brewing within me. We won’t let them win; we can’t afford to. He swallows back the shot of whiskey Paddy put in front of him and offers one to me. I shake my head. I need to steer clear of the stuff or risk losing myself again.
A scuffle at the front of the pub makes us both turn instantly, weapons raised. A rival gang has been waiting for this, waiting for all of us together to make the merge official. Thal’s men have taken it upon themselves to bury the hatchet and have dived forward with my guys at their backs to start an all-out fucking war in the middle of the Angel.
What the fuck is wrong with these rival idiots?
“Christ!” I mutter.
“These fucking cunts!” Cathal growls.
I holster my gun and pull a knife, ready to throw down.
“You’re all fucking dead,” I yell, surging forward with Thal next to me. Grinning at him, we both know this is now an all-out battle, and we both revel in the violence.
Thal swings his knife wildly, slicing and dicing and not giving a shit who he takes out. His cruel streak has come out to play, and he is reveling in it. I don’t need to look up to know that Ronny has taken care of Summer and stashed her in the back office. He will guard her with his life or die. He knows this.
I roll into the fighting circle, my men and Thal’s back-to-back, fighting side by side. Grabbing a guy by the shirtfront, my blade flashes out, slitting his throat wide open, spraying blood on my face.
It’s fucking glorious.
This is what we’re made for, what we fucking live for, this is why we’re here at the edge of annihilation. A fight to the death.
It’s a chaotic mess, bodies flying, blood spilling, howls of rage and pain fill the air.
12
CATHAL
Imove from one man to the next, fighting with everything I have. My ribs have taken another beating, my head pounds, but no one will take me down. I’m lost to the bloodlust.
My blade connects with something, flesh maybe, and my grip slips. My knife flies out of my hand and I struggle to keep hold of my opponent. A hand grabs me by the throat; I didn’t even see it coming. I can’t breathe.
