Chapter Thirty-Six
Reaper
T hey might think they know what's coming but they have no idea the kind of hell that’s coming through that door.
Unfortunately, besides my vest, I’m not bulletproof, but I am fucking lethal and every man in this house is dead already.
I plant a firm boot into the front door, kicking it completely off its hinges. Three guards who were standing in the foyer charge at me.
I uncurl my whip, sweeping it out to the first guard, slashing him across his neck. Flesh and blood fly through the air as he drops. I spin and flip my other whip into the second guard, opening his stomach, intestines and gore begin to spill from him as he shouts in agony. The third guard pauses his advance and takes a few steps back as he pulls a gun from his back. I lash out again, my whip twisting around his arm. Yanking hard, he lurches forward as the meat around his arm severs from bone. He screams and attempts to move his hand to aim the gun but it’s no use. I stalk towards him and stare at the pathetic man wiggling on the ground for a moment before I send my foot smashing down on his exposed arm bone. The satisfying break sends a buzz through me. A quick snap of my whip across his throat and I leave him to bleed out in the foyer with the others.
As I move further into the home, two more guards emerge with guns already in hand, no doubt hearing the screams. My whip moves in a wave, the sharp bladed tip striking one guard right in the eye which causes him to fire off his gun prematurely, missing me. The other guard gets off a quick shot, hitting me in my Kevlar covered chest. It’s like a hard kick but only mildly uncomfortable and certainly not enough to cause me more than a second of pause.
I drop my whips and grab his pistol wielding hand forcing it to the side, he lets off another shot before I pull out my hand-held scythe from my back. I bring it high above my head and down, cutting straight through his forearm. The man screeches like a child and clutches his arm to his chest. Before he drops to the floor in pain, I send my fist through his windpipe and he collapses.
I enter a room to my left. Empty. Kitchen, cleared. Living room, cleared.
I reach another door, and as I stand to the side of the frame, I twist the knob and push it open, several gunshots fire through the doorway. Once there’s a pause, I crouch and twist into view, launching two of my throwing knives at the men. They land true.
The men lay on the carpeted floor gushing blood from their pierced necks. Two more men fire shots at me and I’m hit on my vest over my abdomen twice before I get my hands on one, snapping his neck. I whirl on the other but he fires a couple rounds and I’m shot in my thigh. A growl rumbles through me as I unsheathe two daggers and collide with the man. This guard has a little more spring in his step and dodges my first few strikes until I catch him in the gut.
Armed, he tries to shoot me again. I quickly disarm him and send my fist into his face a good three times. The third hit sends his nose cracking and blood gushing.
“Where is she?!” I shout into his bloody face.
He doesn't answer. Instead, he spits blood right into my face, splattering against my mask. I bring my forehead forward hard, colliding with his broken nose and hear more of a crunch. His agonizing groan satisfies me, but I still need to know where my girl is.
I take my dagger and plunge it into his stomach again then line it up at his dick.
“I’ll ask one more fucking time. Where. Is. She?”
“Fuck, man. Upstairs. She’s fucking upstairs!”
I drive my blade into him and by the screams that leave his mouth, my dagger hit its mark. Howling, he grabs his crotch, and I slice his carotid artery. On my way out, I notice one of the men with a neck wound is still alive. I stand over him and tilt my head at him as he reaches out a bloody hand. I slap his arm away and stomp my boot onto his torso, breaking through his ribs, and then I leave.
I make my way back to the front of the house where the stairs are. The pain in my leg is throbbing from the bullet wound with every step, but I trudge through it.
There’s no time for that.
When I round the corner with the foyer coming into view, I spot the guards I took out earlier, motionless. Dead. But that's not all. Fredrick Doyle stands proudly in the center with six more guards behind him, all aiming their guns at me.
“Welcome. It’s so good to finally meet The Bone Reaper…. and kill him. See, Bone Reaper, you made a big mistake when you took my son’s life. You fucked with the wrong man!” he yells, voice booming through the high ceiling room.
I stand there breathing heavily, boring my eyes into Fredrick as he gives his little speech. Blood continues to seep down my leg, but I bury the pain. No one is going to stand in my way of getting to Charlotte.
“Now I will be remembered as the one who took down The Bone Reaper! But I think I’ll let you watch as my men and I have some fun with my son’s little whore first.”
“Reaper!” An all too familiar voice screams, echoing down from upstairs. My head shoots upward even though I can't see her from here. Hearing her voice sends a jolt of electricity through me.
Faster than I thought possible, I pull a throwing knife from my vest and it flies through the air, sinking into Fredrick’s eye.
“Fuck! Shoot him! Fucking shoot him, you morons!”
I dive into the kitchen to the right of me as bullets are fired. Hard footsteps pound through the foyer down the short hall and I wait in a crouched position for the first guard to round the corner. I swiftly rise pushing my blade up through his chin.
Nothing is going to stop me from getting to Charlotte.
As the rest of the guards come storming in, everything happens in a blur. My movements are fast and effective, lethal. Blood splatters, limbs break, screams and gunshots fill the home. Two of the men put up a decent fight but I’m also shot several more times. Two bullets sink into my flesh, slowing me down.
I've never taken on this many men before and I know I’m getting weak and exhausted but I can't stop. If I stop, Charlotte dies. I won’t let that happen.
The last guard standing is nearly my same size. Both of us, now weaponless, throw fists.
My mask cracks and breaks off a piece as he lands a couple punches to my face with a sharp edge cutting into my cheek in the process.
The fight moves to the living room as we grapple throughout it, toppling over the couch, smashing into the coffee table, glass and trinkets breaking. We rise to our feet and the guard slams me into a small table in the corner of the room where two candlesticks were flickering brightly. The blow sends the candles falling to the ground landing in the long curtain drapes pooled at the floor. The fabric catches alight, and as we continue our brutal fight, the room slowly becomes engulfed in flames.
I manage to grab a stone elephant figurine and smash it across the guard’s face. He stumbles back a few steps, and I tackle him to the ground. I instantly begin throwing punch after punch into his face, my muscles burn with exhaustion. Some hits land, but he manages to block and dodge a few until I land a fist into his throat. He loses his breath and tries to twist to the side, but I continue hammering into his throat as he tries to cover it. He coughs and chokes as his windpipe crushes.
I collapse beside him, chest heaving with fast breaths, choking on the smoke in the air.
Fuck. The house is filling with smoke and fire, and Charlotte is still upstairs. I scramble to my feet and find my way back to the stairs through a burning home.