Hunter
HUNTER
T he air in the armory was laced with anticipation. My boys shuffled around me, loud clicks and snaps as magazines slid home. We were gearing up for hell, each man arming himself to the teeth. I checked my own piece, a Glock that had seen more bloodshed than most soldiers. The cold kiss of the barrel reminded me why we were doing this. Revenge . Retribution . Redemption —nah, fuck redemption. This was about making the bastards pay.
" Strap up tight, boys," I grunted, slipping the Kevlar over my head. I watched them mirror my movements; they were loyal, ruthless fucks, reflections of the darkness I commanded. Once I got my hands around Angelo’s neck… he’d be begging me to end it quickly .
I clipped the final magazine into place, the satisfying clack resonating deep in my gut. Tonight wasn't about patience or respect— Angelo could shove that shit. This was about power, about showing these cockroaches that you don’t fuck with us. Take from us.
A nod from me, and we moved out, our boots thudding against the concrete. The night swallowed us as we piled into the SUVs . I took the driver's seat, gripping the wheel. The engine roared to life under my touch, a beast hungry for the hunt. Marco sat beside me as I watched the other SUVs fill.
" Let’s get her back," I slammed the pedal down. Tires bit into the dirt as we picked up speed. The convoy tore through the night, eager to spill some Black Hand blood.
The moor was waiting. Likely a trap, but we were armed. We were ready. Let them cower; let them pray. No god would save them from what was coming.
We made it in record time. Flickering lights danced in the distance, enemy shadows skittering like roaches across the barren landscape. My grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles white as bone. Every muscle coiled, ready to spring—eager for the slaughter.
" Get ready, boys," I growled into the walkie. The SUVs slowed, creeping towards the guarded expanse where those motherfuckers thought they were safe. I snorted at the thought, venom coursing through my veins. Not safe—not from me. Not from the Cinder Crew .
We halted just shy of their perimeter, the vehicles idling as we went through the last visuals. My men mirrored me as I cut the engine. I checked my piece, and the cold metal familiar was against my palm.
" Move out," I hissed, flinging the door open with a metallic clank that shattered the silence. Boots hit the ground, crunching the frost-bitten grass beneath our weight. We crept forward, shadows among shadows, closing in on the enemy camp.
Then , without warning or mercy, we struck. The night descended into hell—gunfire drowning out all else. They came out of the woodwork like rats. There was no rhythm, just undetermined chaos. The Black Hands were everywhere and nowhere. Easy pickings.
" Fuck 'em up!" I spat, my voice lost in the violence. Lead flew, tearing through flesh and bone. Blood sprayed. Knives embedded into guts and bullets spraying bodies. Men screamed their cries, music to my ears. Bitches didn't stand a chance.
The world narrowed to the barrel of my gun, the recoil jolting through me. This was it—power, dominance. It was intoxicating, better than any drug. With each round fired, I carved our name into the night. We moved forward towards the hut, taking down the idiots who dared try to stand up to us.
The cellar door groaned open, its creaks cutting through the gunfire. Angelo shoved out, a blade glinting at Rosalind's throat. My gut twisted, bile rising. There she was—battered and bruised, a rag doll in the grip of that bastard. She looked fucking skeletal. What the hell did this motherfucker do to my bride?
" Rosalind ," I growled under my breath, fists clenching till knuckles whitened. Her eyes met mine, pools of night drowning in fear. Goddamn it. I fucking cursed how long it took me to find her.
Angelo's sneer split the darkness, his knife pressing into her skin. A drop of blood welled up, a rivulet dropping down and splashing against her collarbone. My pulse hammered, rage boiling over. Fuck patience, fuck caution. They'd pay for every mark on her.
" Drop it, Desmond ," Angelo spat, his voice slicing through the tension.
" Touch her again, and I'll fucking destroy you," I threw back, muscles tensed, ready to spring. The standoff stretched, seconds stretching into hours, or so it felt.
" Let her go, or I'll paint this shithole with your insides," I snarled, shifting weight onto the balls of my feet. Ready to move, to kill, to claim what was mine. Angelo's grip on Rosalind tightened, his knife drawing another bead of her precious blood.
" Try me," he dared, eyes locked on mine. “ Now that you’re here. I’ve got your wife; you’ve got something I want. I want you to give yourself to me in exchange for her.”
“ Oh , fuck right off, you rat bastard.”
“ Then … she’s going to die. Is it worth it, ? Is Cinder Crew really worth her life? Man , your daddy did a number on you to make you this fucking dead inside.”
I’m gonna kill that cockroach.
The world narrowed to this moment, to the space between us, filled with hate and the promise of violence. My hand twitched toward my gun, itching to end this, to rip him apart. But one wrong move, one slip, and it could be Rosalind paying the price.
Her breath came in shallow gasps, her chest brushing against the handle as he pushed the tip further into her neck. Blood pounded in my ears, a drumbeat urging me forward. But I held back, each muscle screaming to unleash hell.
" Come on, Angelo . You really want to be known as the great, big leader who used a girl to win? I thought you were a man, but it turns out you’re just another fucking spineless bastard," I dared, voice low, dangerous. Every fiber of me screamed for retribution—for the right to tear him apart with my bare hands, to show him the kind of pain he'd inflicted on her. But not yet, not while Rosalind was his shield.
Angelo's grip on Rosalind , that fucker thought he had the upper hand. My insides twisted, rage a living thing clawing up my throat. Watched every quiver of his fingers on the blade, every hitch in her breathing. Anger seared through me, hotter than the bullets I'd take for her. Waited for an opening, but hell, there wasn't any. Not with her pale as death and him smirking like the devil himself.
Outta the corner of my eye, I saw Marco slink into the shadows. Big bastard moved silent as death. A flicker of hope sparked in the pit of my gut. I had to trust Marco — I had no fucking choice. He understood the stakes and knew what Rosalind meant. Hell , he loved her, too. His eyes were hard, locked onto Angelo's back.
Marco circled closer, the ghost of a predator. The air prickled with tension, thick enough to choke on. Time slowed to a crawl; I could've counted the beats of my heart, hammering against my ribs like it wanted out.
Then he struck. Quick as fuck, Marco's fist was a blur, a goddamn force of nature. Cracked against Angelo's skull with a thud. Angelo crumpled, his knife clattering to the ground. Rosalind stumbled forward, gasping, her knees giving out. I wouldn’t make it there in time to catch her.
Marco caught her before she hit the dirt, wrapped his arms around her before he stood, and cradled her to his chest. She was precious. Something to be protected. Fuck , he was good to her. She was right. She needed us both.
" Got you, sunshine," Marco murmured, kissing her head.
Stood there, heart slamming against bone, watching Marco hold her. Saw the way her body leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the chaos. Wanted to rip Angelo apart limb by limb for every bruise marring her skin. But first things first— Rosalind needed safety, needed away from this hellhole.
My boots crunched over gravel and spent casings as I closed the distance between me and Rosalind . He kissed her forehead before handing her to me and surveying what was left to do.
" Finish these fuckers off," Marco barked over the slowing pop of bullets, "and burn this shithole to the ground." His voice was a commandment, one none would dare disobey.
I swept Rosalind to my chest like she weighed nothing more than a child, but fuck, she was everything. Her body shook against mine, her skin cold and clammy, but she clung to me, burying her nose into my bloodstained shirt. I felt every bruise, every tear in her clothes, and it fueled a dark, rolling fury within me.
" Glad to have you back, beautiful," I muttered against her hair, my grip tightening. No more fear for her; I'd become the goddamn reaper before I let anyone touch what was mine ever again.
The trek to the SUV was a blur of red and rage. Bullets flew, men shouted, and lives ended. Fucking anarchy all around us, but I walked through it unseeing, unfeeling, except for the woman in my arms.
Marco was right beside me, dragging that treacherous piece of shit Angelo by his hair like he was no more than yesterday's trash. He worked fast, tying and gagging the bastard with brutal efficiency before tossing him in the trunk like a sack of meat.
" Meet back at the mansion," Marco yelled. It was a sight to behold—the loyalty, the power, the raw fucking masculinity.
I bundled Rosalind into the backseat, the leather cool against her damaged skin. She was safe, for now. Goddamn , in the light of the SUV , she looked so small. So damaged. Her curls splayed across the seat, her head tilted to the side, one strand daring to caress her bruised cheek. My fingers grazed over her skin, a whisper of touch, tucking the rebel behind her ear.
Slamming the door shut, I rounded the vehicle, the driver's seat waiting. My hands wrapped around the wheel, knuckles white, control absolute. I stole a glance at Rosalind in the rearview mirror, her face a ghostly pale contrast against the black interior. Marco slid into the passenger seat and shut the door with a thud.
The SUV's ripped out the moor and hummed as I gunned it home. She needed a doctor. I kept thinking about what the fuck they might have done to her. The fact they laid hands on my woman was enough to make me see red.
Goddamn animals thought they could take what was mine, lay hands on my Rosalind . Her pain etched into every fucking fiber of my being, fueling a rage that was all-consuming. Blood for blood, life for life— I'd dismantle their empire brick by bloody brick. I didn’t want to absorb their clan. I wanted to eradicate it. Eradicate them.
" Rest up, baby," I murmured, more for my sake than hers. " Gonna need you strong when we kill Angelo . Maybe I’ll let you peel the last slice of skin from his face after we’re done." I glanced over at Marco , quiet and brooding, already texting the doctor to meet us at home.
“ He's on his way. I’ll get the chamber ready for Angelo once we’re there.”