Chapter 16
Devastation
Theo
The Scourge come at us thick and fast.
It’s chaos as men scream and shout, the stench of blood and smoke choking the air while the house continues to burn beside us. Our only saving grace is that most of the Scourge scum don’t have any guns, meaning we’re able to pick some of them off with a well-placed bullet to their heads.
Doesn’t stop one fucker from barrelling into me from the side, throwing off my shot at another.
The two of us crash into the mud and grass beneath our feet, the impact jarring my arm and causing my gun to slip from my hand.
I curse as I scramble to find it, but the asshole who tackled me doesn’t let me and slams his fist into the side of my head.
Pain burst across my skull, and I grunt as I flop back into the mud, dazed. Another fist slams into my ribs, and my grunt turns into a pained wheeze. Motherfucker, does he hit like a train.
The Scourge asshole laughs, the sound like rusty nails on a chalkboard. “Not so tough now, huh, pretty boy?” he spits.
He thinks I’m pretty?
I know my brain isn’t operating on all cylinders when that’s my first thought. Thankfully, my second is much more reasonable; time to make the asshole bleed.
I jerk my head forward and crash my forehead into his nose.
The Scourge member cries out as blood bursts from his mangled nose, and he falls back while clutching his face.
Using that to my advantage, I whip out my knife and, with a savage grin, slice it across his throat.
The asshole dies gurgling in a pool of his own blood.
Unfortunately, I don’t have time to admire my handiwork before I’m attacked again.
This time the guy has a cricket bat wrapped in barbed wire and he swings it towards me with wild abandon.
My training kicks in just in time for me to duck as it flies towards my face, the bat so close that one barb brushes against my cheek.
As the guy recovers from the swing to attack again, I leap forward and grapple him into the mud.
He grunts as his back collides with the ground, and his hand loosens on his bat. That doesn’t stop him from trying to attack me with it, but a grab and twist of his wrist has him crying out and dropping it. With him unarmed, I drag my blade across his neck and leave him to die.
Staggering to my feet, I glance around to check on everyone.
The battle is bloody and chaotic, with both sides resorting to fists and melee weapons to kill and maim.
Ollie and Rachel are gone, but distant gunshots and the whistle of arrows along with flashes of their hair reassures me they’re both okay for now.
Alex is engaged in a brutal fist fight between him and two other Scourge.
They’re covered in gore and mud, but it’s obvious the Scourge are losing from how feeble and tired they are compared to Alex, who looks like a vengeful god from Norse mythology.
Rhys uses his knife to cut down enemies with the ruthless efficiency the military trained him with. Every slice and stab is precise, and every move is calculated, almost like a dance. If you ignore the blood, screams and death.
Unfortunately, Rhys is so intent on destroying the enemies in front of him, he doesn’t notice the guy creeping up on him.
My eyes widen. “Behind, Rhys!” I shout as I scramble towards them.
Rhys turns, but it’s too late.
The bastard slams his fist into Rhys’s injured shoulder, causing the ex-SAS officer to holler in pain and stagger mid-strike.
The guy he was about to execute uses that to his advantage, slicing at Rhys with a rust-covered machete.
Luckily, Rhys ducks at the last second but slips on the slick mud and grass and loses his balance.
This gives the first guy the chance to punch him again, this time in his ribs.
Rhys grunts as he goes down, his training only just saving him from falling awkwardly, but he’s too slow to get back up.
Machete guy goes for another strike, but I tackle the prick before he can swing.
The two of us slide through the mud, the guy beneath me gasping and groaning.
At first, I think it’s from the fall until I see blood pooling around him.
I huff and shake my head. The idiot stabbed himself with his own weapon.
I clamber away from him, leaving him to die in the mud and hurry back towards Rhys, who’s still struggling. The first guy is wailing on him, blow after blow, while Rhys tries his best to fend him off. But his strength is waning, and I’m too damn far away to help.
An arrow whistles in the night, followed by a yell from the bastard hitting Rhys.
He falters, the shaft of an arrow sticking out of his back, but before he can reach around to pull it out, another flies through the air, impaling him again.
This one hits true, and the man gurgles before slumping on top of Rhys, dead.
I rush over and throw the body off Rhys. “Where are you hurt?” I bark at him, unable to see much since it’s dark and we’re all covered in blood.
The man in question groans, flopping uselessly in the mud. “I’m fine, Theo. Just sore.”
A second set of footsteps splat closer.
“Holy shit. Are you okay?” Ollie exclaims, appearing beside me to peer down at Rhys.
“Fine, princess,” he sighs. “Just beat up is all.” He looks at me. “Give me a hand up, would you?”
I lean down and grab his uninjured arm to haul him to his feet. He grunts, a pained grimace etched onto his face as he staggers slightly before righting himself. While he recovers, I turn to Ollie.
“Those were some fantastic shots, princess,” I tell her, loving how she lights up at the praise. “How many times have you saved Rhys now? Two times?”
“Three,” she says smugly. That expression falls at Rhys’s scowl, and it’s like we’re all suddenly remembering what a colossal dickhead he was a few days ago as the tension thickens.
Rhys sighs. “Princess…” His voice is filled with regret and resignation.
Ollie stiffens, her expression turning wary as she regards the other man much like you would a venomous snake waiting to strike.
He goes to open his mouth, but a bloodied and mud-covered Alex staggers into us, breathing hard as he glances between the three of us.
“What the bloody hell are you doing? Did you idiots forget we’re in the middle of a fight?”
As if to prove his point, a Scourge comes out of nowhere and barrels into him, causing the two of them to crash into the ground.
It’d be funny if he wasn’t right and people weren’t fighting for their lives around us.
A quick glance around shows that Simon, Tobias, and a few others who should be with the rest of the group have joined the fray, everyone using their fists or knives instead of guns.
Hell, even Jerri is here, kicking the shit out of some guy lying in the mud.
Have I entered an alternate universe?
“Theo, duck!” Ollie shouts from somewhere behind me.
I don’t hesitate; I drop to a crouch and whirl around just in time to see a Scourge’s golf club fly above my head. A quick stab upward and into his chest has him collapsing to the ground.
“Thanks, baby!” I call back to Ollie, flashing her a quick, grateful smile.
She’s gained some distance from the worst of the fighting, giving herself space to fire arrows at the Scourge on the outskirts of the battle. I double check to make sure no one’s coming up behind her before jumping into the fray.
The fight becomes a blur of pain and death.
Around me, men and women scream and cry in agony while others gasp their last breaths before succumbing to their wounds.
The mud thickens, saturated with the blood of the fallen, making fighting that much harder and more dangerous.
At some point, I hear the frantic squawks of Ketchup and the snarls and growls of Harlow as the two assist us in taking down the Scourge.
I’m not sure how long it takes for the last of the Scourge to drop, but by the time they do, everyone is exhausted.
We’re covered in gore and dirt, breathing hard as some people lean against one another while others sit in the grass, staring blankly at the dead and broken corpses littering the ground.
A couple of them are even sobbing as they stare at the bodies of our group members who didn’t make it.
I’m barely standing, my heart still slamming against my chest as I pant and tremble from the adrenaline leaving my system. Every inch of my body aches, and all I want to do is curl up and sleep. But that’ll have to wait.
Sucking in a breath tinged with death and smoke, I clean my knife on a nearby dead man and place it back into its sheath. The next thing I do is look for my gun. It’s hard to see amongst the dead and muck, but after some unsavoury digging that has me shuddering, I finally locate it.
I’ve just finished cleaning it when Ollie staggers over to me, still breathing hard and shaking. “You okay?” she asks, frowning as she looks me over for injuries. Harlow pads behind her, tail low and eyes watchful as if she’s waiting for the next enemy to pop out and attack.
“I’m fine. Better now you’re here,” I say as I close the distance and envelop her in my arms, needing to feel her against me. To remind myself that she’s here, she’s safe.
Ollie pushes weakly against me. “I’m sweaty and gross.”
“Don’t care. We both are.” I tighten my hold, and she doesn’t resist. Instead, she melts into me with a shuddering sigh, showing just how big a toll all this fighting must have taken on her.
Alex limps over, having seen both of us, and without preamble, presses his chest against Ollie’s back and wraps his arms around us both. He’s shaking more than Ollie is and, in the moonlight, I can see the glimmer of tears on his eyelashes.
I grab the back of his head and press his forehead against mine. “You’re not him,” I murmur, knowing exactly where his mind is going. “Remember that. Ollie’s safe, we’re all safe and you did what you had to.”