AllFreeNovel
Share Us
There's a certain level of acceptance that simmers underneath my skin. It allows me to shut down everything I can't afford to think about right now and get into position.
I mentally recall all the couple of videos I watched. It wasn't a lot of information, and I know Bane would've taught me more if I hadn't distracted him in other ways. I vow to god or the universe or whoever is listening that if I make it through this day, I'm going to become the best shot in the state.
I take the stairs two at a time, gripping the banister and swinging myself around. Running into the room at the end of the hallway, I fall to my knees just to the left of the main window in the darkened office. I push it open a few inches and silently thank Silas for his random decorating because this specific window doesn't have a screen.
I glance outside and inhale sharply. The sheer number of men outside is terrifying. At least twenty men wearing leather kuttes and shitty expressions.
My mental walls aren't thick enough, and fear pours over me like someone upturned a bucket. They slow to a stop in front of Silas's and Bane's houses, lining up in a few haphazard rows. They don't turn off their bikes, letting their engines idle which tells me they intend to send a message.
Well fuck them and fuck their message.
I adjust my position as much as I can on my knees and allow one moment to collect myself and exhale. I have to be quick. I have ten rounds before I have to reload.
The guy in the middle, the one with the long gray, scraggly-looking beard raises his semi-automatic, and I decide he has to go first. The guys on either side of him follow his lead, lifting their handguns and take aim. They're so fucking casual about it, like they're outside watering the garden and not about the annihilate two homes.
They had to know someone would be home. I don't know if they expected it to be Hunter or me or Dixie. But it doesn't really matter at this point. They came here to destroy.
I can't stop them, but I can wreak my own chaos. Vengeance in real time.
I imagine Bane whispering encouraging words in my ear. I exhale and pull the trigger at the same moment they fire.
Gray beard jerks to the right, but his cry of outrage gets lost in the cacophony of gunfire. I flinch, my shoulders flying toward my ears at the noise. For as long as I live, I don't think I'll ever forget how maddeningly loud it is.
So I force myself to lower my shoulders, and I pull the trigger again. And again. And again.
Once for each of my men, for the disrespect and chaos, and for the ruination of their homes. One for Hunter, for scaring him so badly. I can only hope he's not traumatized forever. One for Dixie for having to make the choice that wasn't a choice at all.
And one for me.
I keep firing, getting lucky and landing a handful of shots. And then I'm out, and I have to reload. I scramble for the magazine clips stuffed in my pocket and reload just like Bane showed me.
My hands shake and sweat coats my body in a light sheen. My breaths sound loud in my ears, too loud, and I start to panic. I slam the magazine back in place and resume my position.
“Oh fuck,” I curse. Four guys are storming toward the front of the house. My determination falters for a moment, fear thundering through my veins like a goddamn herd of elephants. If they get their hands on me, it's game over.
I was wrong earlier. There is a fate worse than death, and I don't imagine these are the type of men who are familiar with mercy.
I lean forward, hoping I can get an angle on any of them before they reach the front door—not that my aim is great, but it's better than nothing. But at this angle, there's a five foot blind spot in front of the porch.
Shit. That's not good.
Half of the men are still shooting at Lincoln's house, but the men in front of me have stopped. Some because they got shot, and even more have rushed to their fallen brothers' aid. Ha—if you can even call this a brotherhood.
They're wary now, looking around with guns raised but not shooting.
I look within myself, trying to come up with my next move. I don't have many options, and I find that my heart is too bruised and too bloody to offer them a reprieve. They came here with violence in their hearts and greed in their eyes.
I don't offer them kindness or reprieve.
I flick the latch and drop the empty, pulling the final clip from my hoodie pocket as fast as I can.
“Last one,” I murmur, my gaze flicking from what I'm doing to the men outside. They're looking at the second story now, suspicious, and I know my time is running out.
I swear I hear Nana Jo's voice in my ear whispering,make it count, Eve.
I exhale and get into position once more. I take aim and squeeze the trigger, my hands shaking from adrenaline. Time slows down as I watch one of the men jerk backward when the bullet hits his shoulder. He yelps in pain, causing the two guys around him to whip around and look at the house. I resist the urge to duck, instead firing toward them again. And again. And again.
I feel like I'm losing touch with reality, existing in this small space in front of the window. Where the only thing that matters is taking as many of them down, buying Dixie as much time as possible to get Hunter far, far away.
A loud boom pierces my bubble, and I realize with a start that someone kicked in the front door. A tsunami of fear floods my body, and I can't take an even breath anymore.
Tears well up in my eyes, and I pull the gun away, ducking next to the window with my back to the wall. I adjust my grip on the gun and switch my focus to the door across the room.
Shouting outside captures my attention, and I twist to look out the corner of the window. A tiny fissure of hope spouts against my will. Maybe it's my men, maybe they're here and this will all be over soon. It's uprooted a moment later when the road remains empty except for the enemy.
Another bang. My heart lurches into my throat when the door to the office is kicked in. I jerk toward the sound, my finger already moving before I give it permission.
And I pull the trigger.
To be continued . . .
