Chapter 13 Siege
SIEGE
Ilasted thirty seconds in that bathroom.
The sounds were too much—gunfire crackling like a thunderstorm, glass shattering, men shouting orders I couldn't make out.
Somewhere below, someone was screaming. Not pain.
Rage. The primal sound of violence unleashed.
I grabbed the tactical pen from my discarded jeans, shoved my feet into boots without lacing them, and moved.
The hallway was chaos.
Smoke hung in the air, acrid and thick, burning my throat with every breath.
Emergency lights strobed red, casting everything in hellish flashes.
A Phoenix member I didn't recognize pressed against the wall, blood streaming from a gash on his forehead, returning fire through a shattered window. "Get down!" he shouted when he saw me.
I dropped to a crouch, scuttled along the wall. More gunfire—closer now, somewhere on the stairs. The distinctive boom of Tank's shotgun. Irish's voice, calling out positions in clipped military cadence. The common room was a warzone.
Overturned tables provided cover for Phoenix members firing toward the blown-out front entrance. Bullet holes pocked the walls. The bar had taken a direct hit—bottles shattered, alcohol pooling across the floor, mixing with something darker. Blood. Someone's blood.
I spotted Axel near the kitchen doorway, gun raised, firing controlled bursts at shadows moving outside. Even in chaos, he was beautiful—all deadly grace and lethal precision. Every shot found its mark. Every movement was economy itself. Then I saw Jake.
He was pinned behind a overturned couch, alone, separated from the main group. Two Devil's Dust had him flanked—one keeping him suppressed with covering fire, the other circling toward his blind spot. Jake couldn't see him coming.
I moved without thinking. The first man never heard me. I came up behind him, tactical pen driving into the soft tissue below his ear. He dropped, convulsing. The second spun at the noise, raised his gun.
Jake tackled him from behind.
They went down hard, grappling on the floor. Jake was scrappy but outmatched, the Devil's Dust twice his size. A fist connected with Jake's jaw. Then another. I grabbed a bottle from the floor, smashed it across the attacker's skull.
He slumped. Jake shoved him off, gasping. "You okay?!" I hauled him up.
"Yeah. Thanks." His eyes were wild, pupils blown wide with adrenaline. "Where's—"
The bullet caught him mid-sentence. One moment he was standing. The next, he was on the ground, clutching his shoulder, blood welling between his fingers. His mouth opened but no sound came out—just shock, raw and absolute.
"Jake!" I dropped beside him, hands already moving to assess. Entry wound, upper chest, left side. Dangerously close to the subclavian artery. "Stay with me. Look at me."
"Kai—" His voice was thready. "I can't—"
"You can. You will." I ripped off my shirt, pressed it against the wound. The fabric bloomed red instantly. "Keep pressure here. Don't let go."
More gunfire. A window exploded somewhere behind us. I heard Axel shouting my name, but I couldn't look up, couldn't think about anything except the kid bleeding out under my hands. "I need a med kit!" I screamed. "Someone get me a fucking med kit!"
Blade appeared out of nowhere, sliding across the floor like a baseball player stealing home. He shoved a trauma bag into my hands, then spun and fired three shots at something I couldn't see.
"How bad?" he asked without looking.
"Bad. I need to stop the bleeding or he's dead in minutes."
"Do what you have to do. I've got you covered."
I worked fast. QuikClot into the wound—Jake screamed, back arching off the floor. Pressure bandage over that, wrapped tight. His blood was slick on my hands, hot and copper-smelling, and I shoved down the panic because panic didn't help anyone.
"Stay with me, Jake. Talk to me."
"Hurts," he gasped.
"I know. That's good. Pain means you're alive." I checked his pulse—rapid but present. His color was bad, shock setting in, but the bleeding was slowing. "You're going to be fine. You hear me? You're going to be fine."
"Kai—" His hand found my wrist, grip surprisingly strong. "Don't let me die. Please. I just—I just found my family."
"You're not dying today." I squeezed his hand back. "I promise."
The attack ended as suddenly as it began. One moment, gunfire everywhere. The next, engines roaring, tires screaming, the sound of retreat. Devil's Dust melting away into the night, leaving destruction and nightmares behind.
I didn't move from Jake's side until Tank appeared, lifted the kid like he weighed nothing, and carried him toward the makeshift infirmary we'd set up in the back room.
"You saved his life," Tank said as he passed. Not a question. Just acknowledgment.
I followed on shaking legs.
The infirmary was already crowded. Maria was there, face pale but hands steady, helping bandage a prospect with a gash across his ribs. Two other Phoenix members sat against the wall, wounded but ambulatory. The air smelled like blood and antiseptic and fear.
Tank laid Jake on the table. I took over immediately, checking vitals, adjusting the bandage, starting an IV line with fluids from our depleted supplies. "He needs a hospital," I said.
"Can't." Hawk's voice came from the doorway. He looked like hell—soot on his face, blood on his hands, exhaustion carved into every line. "They'll be watching every ER in the city. And after tonight, we have to assume Chen's people are waiting."
"If he doesn't get surgery—"
"Can you stabilize him?"
I looked at Jake—pale, unconscious now, but breathing. The bleeding had stopped. Vitals were weak but holding. "Maybe. For a while. But he needs the bullet out, needs proper—"
"Then stabilize him. Buy us time." Hawk's eyes met mine, and I saw the weight he was carrying. "We'll figure out the rest."
He left. I turned back to my patient and got to work.
Hours passed. Or maybe minutes. Time lost meaning in that room. I monitored Jake's vitals obsessively, adjusted his fluids, kept the wound clean. Maria brought me water I didn't drink, food I couldn't eat. At some point, Axel appeared in the doorway, watching me with an expression I couldn't read.
"You left the bathroom," he said.
"Jake was in trouble."
"You could have died."
"So could he." I didn't look up from checking Jake's pulse. "I made a choice."
Silence. Then footsteps, and his hand on my shoulder. "I'm not angry," he said quietly. "I'm terrified. There's a difference."
"I know."
"When I saw you out there, in the middle of it all—" His voice cracked, just slightly. "I thought I'd lost you."
I finally turned, saw the fear underneath his composure. This massive, lethal man, afraid for me. "I'm here." I reached up, covered his hand with mine. "I'm right here."
He pulled me into a hug—brief, fierce, his face buried in my hair. "Don't ever do that again," he murmured.
"Can't promise that."
"I know." He pulled back, something like resignation in his eyes. "That's what scares me."
Dawn crept through the shattered windows like a thief. The clubhouse looked like a bomb had hit it. Which, in a way, it had. Windows blown out, walls pocked with bullet holes, furniture destroyed. The smell of smoke and blood lingered despite the cold air pouring through the gaps.
Three Phoenix members were dead. Seven more wounded, including Jake. The Devil's Dust had lost more—bodies still scattered outside, waiting to be dealt with—but the victory felt hollow. Hawk called Church at first light.
I stayed with Jake, unwilling to leave him, but Tyler brought me updates. The attack had been coordinated, professional. Multiple entry points hit simultaneously. They'd known our defensive positions, our patrol schedules, everything.
"Inside information," Tyler said grimly. "Someone's been feeding them intel."
"Who?"
"Don't know yet. But we'll find out."
Jake stirred around mid-morning. His eyes fluttered open, confused at first, then focusing on my face.
"Kai?"
"Hey." I squeezed his hand. "Welcome back."
"What happened?"
"You got shot. You're okay now."
"Doesn't feel okay." He tried to laugh, winced instead. "Feels like someone's stabbing me with a hot poker."
"That's the nerve endings waking up. Good sign." I checked his vitals again—stronger now, color returning to his cheeks. "You're going to be fine, Jake. Few weeks of recovery, you'll be good as new."
"Few weeks?" He groaned. "The battle—"
"Is not your problem right now. Your problem is healing." I fixed him with my sternest nurse stare. "You scared the shit out of me, you know that?"
Something softened in his expression. "You saved my life."
"You're family. That's what family does."
He was quiet for a moment. "Is everyone else okay?"
I hesitated. He saw it.
"Who?"
"Three brothers didn't make it. Donnie, Marcus, Pete." Names I barely knew, faces I couldn't quite place. Men who'd nodded at me in hallways, shared meals at the common table. Gone now. "Seven wounded, including you."
Jake's eyes went wet. "This is my fault."
"What? No—"
"If I hadn't gotten pinned down, if I'd been better—"
"Hey." I gripped his uninjured shoulder. "This isn't on you. This is on Viper, on Chen, on everyone who decided to bring war to our door. You fought. You survived. That's what matters."
He didn't look convinced, but he nodded. Let me fuss over his bandages. Let me pretend everything was going to be okay.
Axel found me outside an hour later. I was sitting on the back steps, staring at nothing, trying to process the last twelve hours.
The bodies had been removed—ours taken somewhere respectful, theirs dumped in a truck for disposal.
The cleanup had begun. Life went on. He sat beside me without speaking. Our shoulders touched. Solid. Warm.
"How many more?" I finally asked.
"What?"
"Attacks. Battles. Bodies." I turned to look at him, exhaustion making me raw. "How many more before this ends?"
"I don't know." His honesty was brutal. "Viper won't stop. Not until we make him."
"And Chen?"
"Tyler's working on that. He's got a plan." Axel's jaw tightened. "She'll pay for what she's done. They both will."
"When?"
"Soon." He took my hand, laced our fingers together. "We're going on offense, Kai. No more waiting for them to hit us. We take the fight to them."
I should have felt relief. Instead, I felt dread. "More people will die."
"Yes." No softening, no comfort. Just truth. "But if we don't act, more people will die anyway. At least this way, we choose the battlefield."
I thought about Jake, pale and bleeding on that floor. About the three names I'd already forgotten. About Chen's cold smile and Viper's army and everything that had brought us here.
"Okay," I said.
"Okay?"
"I'm with you. Whatever comes next." I squeezed his hand. "I'm not running."
He lifted our joined hands, pressed a kiss to my knuckles.
"I know," he said. "That's why I love you."
We sat there as the sun climbed higher, watching the damaged clubhouse come back to life around us. Members patching holes, boarding windows, preparing for whatever came next.
This was just the first wave. We both knew that. But we'd survived. And as long as we were breathing, we had a chance.