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I barely see his fist before it slams into the side of my face, the impact makes it feel like my fucking teeth rattle. Instinctively, I lick my lips, tasting blood, and I feel some ooze from my eyebrow as well.
My head throbs, but even though I know I should feel pain, there’s none.
Without faltering, I jerk my knee up, but when he pushes me away, thinking I’m going for his junk, I aim higher and kick him right in the gut. I know it’s not enough to keep him away, but it’s enough to buy me the time needed to reach for Alana.
I roughly pull her to her feet, wrapping her arm around my shoulder to steady her as I rush us the rest of the way to the main room.
“Gray!”
Grayson
Grabbingmyknifetuckedinto my boot, I leap over the table, a war cry roaring from me as I charge the motherfucker with the machine gun, which to my fucking luck, seems to have jammed.
I slam into him as he tries to reach for another weapon somewhere on his body, and we crash to the floor as my knife plunges into his chest. I don’t wait to see if it killed him. I need to be sure, so I tug it free and slam it into his eye socket.
I turn off the part of me that feels the crunch of bone or remembers the sight of blood spraying. There’s no place for those things here. Not if I want to live. Not if I want to protect Zoe.
Something hard slams into the side of my head, throwing me sideways off the Reaper I’d stabbed, before a large form looms over me, the barrel of a gun pressing right against my forehead.
“Say goodbye motherfucker,” he rasps, but before I can prepare myself that this is actually the end, a loud shot rings out and the gun at my head tumbles to the floor with the man behind it following.
I choke, cough, my lungs trying to push air from my lungs as I realize how fucking close to death I was, but then Rocco’s hand appears, and I take it.
“Stop sitting around on the fucking job,” he mutters, and I chuckle, fucking thankful my Prez is a good fucking shot.
A glance back at the doorway Zoe and Alana bolted through before, hoping like fuck that they’ve been able to get out safely. The urge to run after them is almost crippling, so I have to force myself to remain in place by Rocco’s side, to help fight off these assholes that think they can come onto our fucking turf and claim it.
I’m back on my feet for all of five seconds before a couple of Reapers breach the entrance and leap at me and Rocco. We fall back to the floor with the Reapers on top, throwing fists. The smoke is becoming suffocating, thick and black, and as I swing back, wrestling my way from underneath the Reaper, my view of Rocco becomes harder to see.
The clubhouse is on fire, its intensity building, and I know we have to get out of here before the smoke overtakes us.
Struggles sound nearby, but I can’t see much but the fucker I’m fighting, so I focus on that, determined to end him so I can help my Prez. The fucker gets me under him again, his hands around my throat. Air fails to get past the constriction, the smoke adding to the choking feeling, and my vision wavers.
No.
Zoe.
I buck under the asshole but he’s a fucking giant, his weight and strength too much for me to beat in this position.
I reach out, ignoring the ache in my shoulder, feeling for something, anything, I can use to distract the fucker, if only for a few seconds, and the moment I feel the jagged edges of a broken bottle, I grip it and stab it hard into the side of his neck.
The big brute stiffens, his grip on my neck loosening as the warm spray of blood rains down on me, and this time when I buck, I send him tumbling off me.
Gunfire right next to me snaps my attention just in time to see the Reaper’s President, Rusty Hunt, towering over Rocco with his gun.
“No!” I roar, leaping up off the ground and charging the fucker. His eyes widen when he realizes I’m already there, and I slam into him before we thud to the floor.
“You really think you can kill me?” the cocky fucker growls, flashing his blood stained teeth.
“I don’t think it!” I growl back before slamming my forehead into his. “I know it.”
Blood bursts from his skin as the contact splits it open, practically pissing out everywhere, and I start swinging, landing blow after blow into the psycho’s face as he does nothing but fucking laugh.
“Gray!”
The high-pitched screech pierces through the bloodlust I have for killing this Reaper in particular, and my head whips around to see a frantic-looking Zoe dragging Alana back into the room. It’s a fucking relief to see her, but it only lasts a fucking second before another fucking Reaper crashes into them from behind, throwing a fist into Alana’s face as Zoe hits the floor.
“Gray!” She screams again, her blue eyes wide with panic as she tries to crawl toward me.
