Page 59 of Betrothed in Fury
Motherfucker!
Before I have a chance to argue, he pulls out of his safe space, rounding the corner and shooting into the warehouse. As I hear rounds unloading, Rage pulls back just in time, and I’m not about to waste the opportunity. I come around the corner, see the guy and take two shots, getting him in the chest, his gun flailing as he tumbles over.
“Who’s alive?” Rage shouts.
A few groans come from the warehouse, giving me hope, but damn, this was a bloodbath.
Krychek appears from the other side of the warehouse, where the attackers came from. “There were two more. Snipers. One nailed our two sentries outside, and the other was standing back there to take out the guys upstairs.”
Fuck.
Krychek, Jaime, Rage, and I assess the damage while making sure there aren’t any more surprises.
Klyde is down, holes in his shirt, fresh blood, and wide, still eyes.
“I’m counting seven dead,” Rage says from a quick glance.
“Who’d we lose?” I spit out, approaching the guy I nailed in the chest. Rage and Jaime list off our losses as I kneel next to him to make sure the bastard’s dead. When I’m on my knees, his eyes pop open, and he sits up fast, his arm coming around. Ifigure he’s gonna hit me, but as I raise my arm in self-defense, I see the shine of a blade before feeling it pushing into my arm. “Dammit!” I call out just as I hear a gunshot.
I’m a dead man.
Just like Old Terror himself.
Like father, like son.
But the attacker’s back on the ground, blood spewing from his skull, and Rage is sporting a smile. “See? We make a good team.”
“Maybe I’ll appreciate that more when I recover from being stabbed.”
*
I’m still shakenas Jaime and I return to Rothguard. It took a few hours for the guys at the Center to tend to our wounded men, and we have cleaners erasing our traces at the warehouse. We searched the four attackers for anything that could link them to whoever hired them, and while some tokens pointed to the Raiders, it seems too easy. I’ve been around long enough to recognize a setup. I’m not worried, though—finding whoever’s responsible is only a matter of time.
And here I assumed the biggest event of tonight would be plowing Logan Wilde.
I texted him earlier to let him know tonight was off, without explaining why, though I’m sure he’s heard about the scuffle. Word travels fast in the underworld.
When we arrive at Rothguard, Jaime helps me inside, where Krychek greets me. “Killian…” His expression is somber, like he’s got bad news.
“Whatever the fuck it is, I don’t want to hear it.”
“It’s nothing serious, but—”
“Christ, can you just let me get a goddamn shower before annoying me?”
“Of course.” He nods and heads on his way.
Jaime escorts me to my bedroom, where I strip out of my blood-soaked clothes and head to the bathroom vanity, looking at the streaks staining my face. I should probably be panicked or anxiety-ridden orsomething, but this is one of those moments when I’m eerily quiet. Numb.
There’s a knock at the door, and I growl, irritated that anyone would disturb my peace right now.
“Boss?” comes from the other side, and I hear the door open.
“You can’t go in there,” Jaime says, followed by Krychek’s, “Ah, fuck. Your fiancé’s heading in.”
It’s not a second before Logan’s in the bathroom doorway. “What the hell happened?”
“I’m sorry for canceling our date. I was held up,” I reply sarcastically.
