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I wanted to laugh at their confusion, but then, like a cruel twist of fate, movement approached us from two sides.
Out of nowhere, the three Fathers appeared, no longer in their robes but carrying guns. They were in jeans and tees, looking like hardened badasses, with strong expressions and a look in their eyes that could burn through steel. Their appearances made my heart pound.
Just as they arrived, another group of men emerged from the shadowy opposite end of the hallway—it had to be Jonas and his men.
The gang leader had a monstrous build, with muscles that strained against the fabric of his worn leather jacket. His shaved head shone under the overhead lights. The hostile glint in his icy, dark eyes left me shuddering.
Two men flanked him, each carrying guns. Their clothing, a mismatch of rugged jeans, black leather vests over stained t-shirts, and heavy biker boots, screamed gangster. Could they be any more cliche? I might have laughed if I wasn’t shaking in my shoes.
We were trapped, caught between them, Louise suddenly pressing up against my side, her body shaking.
“You think I’m the cause of everything, Louise?” I managed to mutter, my voice trembling. “Now, you’ll see what real danger looks like.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
KAT
The moment the first bullet exploded from the gun, I dropped to my knees, a whimper on my lips, having no clue who started the fight. Did it matter? My breath hitched in my throat, the world around me blurring in and out into a chaotic tangle of violence.
Louise screamed, and footsteps thundered around me.
“Kat, get out of here,” Bridge bellowed, but my heart was beating too fast, my body shaking, and I couldn’t move.
Mason, Logan, and Bridge darted across the hall, guns blazing, and there I was, in the middle of the chaos.
Suddenly, large arms swept under my stomach, and I was off my feet, carried away with speed. Logan set me down, then swung away from me and threw himself back into the battle, bullets raining. Louise screamed, running and ducking into my hiding spot behind a corner in the hallway.
Gunshots roared in the tight confines of the institute corridors. I shoved myself up against the wall, my back pressed to the stone, terrified to hell.
After a few long moments of gunfire, everything went silent. Crouching low, I pushed forward to peer out where Mason was flanked by Logan and Bridge, pushing Jonas and his men to recoil, their guns spitting fire. One of Jonas’ men lay on the floor, bleeding and unmoving. Fuck… was he dead?
Louise was at my side, clinging to me, her eyes wide with terror. She was whispering prayers under her breath, her words swallowed by the cacophony of shouting and bullets around us.
“Kat... I’m scared,” she whimpered.
I glanced at her, my irritation flaring inside me.
“We’ll be okay,” I murmured, unsure why I was being nice to her.
The acrid tang of gunpowder filled my nostrils, the walls out there peppered with gunshots.
Scanning the battle, I spotted my stepdad across the corridor, hunkered down behind a piece of furniture. Any trace of his earlier smug confidence was gone, replaced by raw fear. With a mad dash and false bravery, he bolted across the open hallway, his body weaving and ducking erratically to dodge bullets. One of Jonas’ men lunged for him, landing a punch square on his face. A surge of satisfaction pulsed through me at the sight of him in pain. The next thing I knew, he made it to our hiding spot, his hand wrapping around my arm in a grip that was painfully tight.
“We’re leaving!” he snarled, his face a mask of pure panic, blood gushing from his busted nose. “We need to go now.”
“Let me go!” I shouted.
Louise, still cowering next to me, shoved him. “Leave her alone.”
I gritted my teeth, resisting his pull, but he swung his arm to hit me. I ducked, the movement so swift, it made me dizzy, and with all the strength I could muster, I shoved him back.
“Don’t ever touch me again,” I snapped.
His balance faltered, his foot catching on Louise’s outstretched leg. He tumbled, letting out a yelp as he fell right into the crossfire. The world seemed to slow down as I saw a bullet rip through the air and slam into his shoulder. He collapsed to the ground, a high-pitched cry piercing the chaos as his hand desperately clutched his bleeding wound.
“Fuck!” I screamed, the word tearing from my throat. I started toward him, but Louise grabbed my arm, pulling me back.
“Are you mad?” she hissed. “You want to get shot after he tried to hit you?”
