Chapter Eight #3
“Fire department’s gonna be all over this,” I shout to my team. “So, we’re leavin’ in firefighter gear.”
Wraith yells over the roar, “We don’t have firefighter gear.”
“Yet,” I reply, keying my comm. “Texas, first responders’ll be inbound in minutes. I need gear. Helmets, jackets, everythin’.”
“How much?” Texas radios back.
“For eleven.”
Texas doesn’t ask questions. “On it.”
The doors to the hallway explode inward, wood splinters flying across the room. Cartel soldiers storm through, with their weapons raised. But this time, we’re ready.
The roar of gunfire is deafening as they open fire. Kevlar takes a round to the shoulder, the impact knocking him backward. But he’s up again in seconds, roaring like a beast and returning fire with everything he’s got.
Wraith drops three men with clean, efficient shots. The head, the chest, the chest again like he’s running a damn drill.
Fox slams a boot through a locked drawer, grabs armfuls of hard drives and documents, and tosses them into a bin already half full of water. The soaked paperwork and documents stand no chance as water rains down around us.
Across the room, Nickel and Chains are moving like a two-man wrecking crew. Chains advances, shotgun blazing, blowing holes through bodies and drywall alike. Nickel is tight behind him, covering the flanks, one eye always on his brother.
They push forward, clearing the hallway toward the stairs, until a soldier steps out of the shadows behind Chains, blade drawn, going in for a kill strike.
“Chains,” I scream, but it’s Nickel who reacts first. He dives between the soldier and Chains, taking the full force of the blade to his side.
The steel bites deep, Nickel gritting his teeth, twisting the attacker’s wrist until the bones snap.
I tense, starting to run, the same time Chains moves to help, but we’re both too late.
The Cartel soldier brings up his other hand, shooting Nickel point-blank in the chest.
My body jerks as if I were shot, seeing one of my brothers go down right in front of me.
Chains spins, his voice hoarse. “Nickel!” His eyes rage with anger as he unleashes a barrage of bullets into the soldier, his body slamming into the wall with the multiple hits, then slides down with brute force, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.
Nickel drops to his knees, blood already pouring through his fingers. Chains shifts dramatically and catches Nickel before he fully hits the floor, cradling him in his arms, fury and heartbreak etched into his face. “Don’t do this, you son of a bitch. Don’t you fucking do this to me.”
I slide in beside the two of them as shots continue to echo around us, Chains holding onto Nickel like his life depends on it, while water pours down from the sprinklers overhead, making Nickel’s blood look like a red river surrounding us.
He grips Chains’ hand, weakly smiling at him. “I got your back, brother… I always did,” Nickel rasps. He smiles faintly, blood staining his teeth. “It was worth it… I’m glad I found my way back to you, Ty.”
Chains’ eyes flood with tears as he shakes his head. “Shh, don’t talk, save your strength. You know Chills is gonna be pissed if you die on me, because I’ll get fucking mad, and then she’ll get mad at me for being fucking mad, and it will be all your fault. So, you can’t fucking die on me, Luc.”
With the roar of gunfire continuing around us, a Cartel soldier barrels toward us with deadly intent, rifle raised, and my instinct takes over.
I launch myself at him before he can take aim, slamming into his chest with the full weight of my body to protect Chains while he shares his last moments with his best friend.
We crash into the conference table behind him, the impact knocking chairs flying and scattering papers like shrapnel. He grunts, fists already flying. One catches me in the ribs, hard enough to crack something.
“Fuck!” I growl, pain sears through my side, but I don’t stop. I wrap my arms around his middle and drive him backward, pinning him against a bookshelf. We grapple like animals, no rhythm or finesse, just raw rage and brute force.
He gets a hand free and slashes a knife across my back.
The agony slices through me, scorching my skin like flames through the deluge.
I roar through clenched teeth, my torso twisting, as blood instantly soaks through my club cut.
My fist flies up instinctively, connecting with his jaw, once, twice, before he shoves me off with enough force to send me sprawling over a fallen office chair.
My body aches like a motherfucker while the bastard charges again. I roll to the side just as he slams a heavy paperweight down right where my head was. It smashes the chair armrest instead, the metal armrest cracking off and dropping into a pool of water on the floor.
I scramble to my feet, slipping a little on the wet floor.
My lungs are burning, vision spinning from blood loss.
He lunges at me again, and I grab the first thing I can, an office lamp.
I swing it like a baseball bat, the metal base connecting with a sickening crunch to his temple.
He stumbles, dancing for a moment in his dazed state.
So, I take advantage.
With the little energy I have left, I use my shoulder and shove him backward.
We crash through a glass divider, shards raining down as we hit the flooding carpet.
Water splashes over my face, temporarily blinding us both.
But I take the moment to wrench the knife from his grip, but the asshole punches me hard across the face before I can use it.
Stars explode behind my eyes, and for a split second, I’m blind and disoriented.
My head is spinning as I fall back to the carpet, water lapping at my body.
He mounts me, slamming his fist into my face, blow after blow, knuckles cracking against bone. Pain radiates through me, but I grip the knife tighter in my palm, and somehow, I barely find the strength to jam the knife upward into his side, twisting as I go.
But it’s enough.
He shrieks, the sound animalistic, but he still fights because this son of a bitch won’t fucking die.
Finding the strength I need, I use my knees to buck him off, dragging myself upright with one hand on a filing cabinet for balance.
But the fucker charges again.
Letting out an animalic growl.
This time, I meet him head-on.
And with all the strength I have left, I drive the knife under his ribs, forcing it to the hilt with a guttural snarl, and twist. His eyes meet mine, and I grit my teeth as he chokes, blood spilling from his lips, eyes wide with shock.
“Just. Fucking. Die!” I yell at him, water running down my face mixed with my blood.
A gargled moan escapes his mouth as his body slumps forward into mine.
And finally, with his heavy weight, we collapse together, back onto the wet floor. Panting for breath, I shove him off with a grunt, every muscle screaming, before I glance back over to Chains, who is still holding onto Nickel as I somehow stagger to my feet.
My body is on fire, blood runs like a river down my flank, but I’m still standing.
Just.
The sound of Chains shouting rips through the haze, and I stumble back through the water toward them, my vision tunneling. But a second Cartel soldier rounds the far end of the room, his gun raised, eyes locked on Chains and Nickel.
Not on my fucking watch, asshole!
I spot a gun on a dead cartel soldier’s side. It’s just poking out of his suit jacket, out of the water, so I reach down, grab it with one swift movement, aim steady through sheer force of will, and pull the trigger.
One shot.
The bastard drops instantly, crashing to the floor beside Nickel’s body.
Stumbling as I reach them, I drop to my knees beside Chains, the blood loss catching up to me fast. My hand lands heavy on his shoulder, solid, grounding, the only thing I’ve got left to offer.
Chains looks up at me, fear etched in his eyes. “Pres,” he murmurs, it’s a plea for help.
But there’s nothing I can do for Nickel. “I know… I’m here, brother.”
Nickel coughs dramatically, blood oozing from his mouth as Chains scowls, while holding his head above the water. “Fuck! Don’t do this, Luc.”
Nickel reaches out, his shaking hand clutching Chains’ as he weakly smiles. “You’re g-gonna be o-okay, Ty,” Nickel whispers.
“You fucking hold on, you asshole,” Chains yells, gripping onto Nickel, rocking him back and forth.
Nickel weakly smiles. “You take care of Siren for me. You tell her… I l-love her.”
Chains sniffs, shaking his head. “You tell her your damn self.”
Nickel’s smile softly fades, his eyes glaze over, then his head gently tilts to the side as he lets out a final breath.
Fuck.
“Nickel? Nickel! Luc, you motherfucker, don’t you fucking quit on me. You have an Old Lady to go home to.” Chains shakes Nickel violently. “You wake the fuck up, brother!”
I grip his shoulder tightly, my own grief hitting me. “Chains… he’s gone.”
Chains snaps his head around at me, his eyes harsh, almost violent. “No! No… fuuuck!” Chains throws his head back and lets out a roar so intense it rips straight through my spine. It’s not just grief, it’s devastation.
Rage.
Soul-deep heartbreak unleashed like a storm that’s been waiting for the right moment to destroy everything in its path.
He doesn’t just stand, he erupts, springing to his feet like he’s no longer bound by pain or logic.
His shotgun comes up fast, mechanical and familiar in his hands, and in the next breath, all hell breaks loose.
He fires point-blank at the closest Cartel soldier, blowing the bastard off his feet and into the glass wall behind him with a sickening crunch. The glass shatters, raining down in a cascade of chaos.
Chains doesn’t stop.