Chapter Ten
VOID
There’s something about a multi-front attack that has my insides igniting with excitement. Not a lot of things get me excited. There is a reason my road name is Void, and it’s not because it’s a play on words.
I am exactly what it says, void of emotion.
There’s only one person who can truly elicit any kind of real sensation from me, and since she came rampaging into my life like a fucking whirling dervish, I swear I have never been the same.
Ivy Pérez.
Better known by her road name, Toxin.
The first female to patch into Defiance MC and become a full member. The first woman to be able to break through my fucking frozen heart and shatter the walls I’ve been building for who knows how long.
She’s an enigma.
Fucking hell on wheels.
And the undeniable love of my life.
Even though she’s my Old Lady, when we’re out here on a mission as massive as this, I have to be the VP of this club, and look at her like I would any other brother in this club.
It’s a hard fucking differentiation to make, but I have to do it because that’s the responsibility of leadership.
And honestly, if I treated Toxin any differently out here, she’d kick my fucking ass.
But a war this huge, an assault on multiple cities, with multiple clubs attacking in tandem—we all know the risks. We all know that any one of us, any club, if not all of us, could be walking into hell on earth, and we may not come out the other side.
So, I have to keep my head in the game.
And not focused on how fucking sexy Toxin’s ass looks in her wetsuit as she stands in front of me on the boat.
Salt air whips against my face as we cut through the black water, three Defiance boats slicing toward the island like blades through silk.
The weapons facility looms ahead, a jagged blot of shadow and light against the starlit sky.
The weapons cache sits plain as day in the middle of a barge just off Fantasy Island in Hillsborough Bay.
I guess the saying ‘hide in plain sight’ is true.
The goddamn Cartel has all this fucking ammunition just sitting in the fucking middle of Tampa Bay on a goddamn barge, and no one even blinked a damn eyelid.
I adjust my night-vision scope, scanning for movement along the shore, the unmistakable adrenaline of incoming chaos coiling tight in my chest.
In the lead boat, Nycto grips the wheel like it’s an extension of his fury. He’s got that look. Jaw tight, eyes narrowed, the look that says someone’s about to die, and it sure as shit won’t be us.
“Two minutes out,” Whiskey’s voice crackles over the comms from the rear boat. “Eyes on perimeter guards. Four towers, two roving patrols.”
I glance ahead at Toxin in front of me. Even with only the moonlight shining down, her silhouette is all tension and precision, checking her gear like the pro she is. She’s got that lethal grace that makes my heart clench and my cock twitch, and not necessarily in that order.
Christ, I love her.
Even more when she’s in kill mode.
“Remember…” Nycto says, voice low and sharp, “… we need those weapons intact. No scorched-earth bullshit unless it’s necessary. Ominous, you ID what we can use. The rest? We light it up.”
“Copy that, Pres,” Ominous replies coolly.
The facility takes shape as we near. Large storage units are stitched together by steel walkways, towers rising at the corners, searchlights sweeping in lazy arcs.
The Cartel thinks they own this stretch of coast.
They think they’re untouchable.
But they have no idea what’s about to hit them.
“T4, you’re cleared for approach,” a gentle voice calls down the line from LA. The mission’s fully greenlit. Our brothers across the country are moving, too, tearing apart this operation limb by limb.
“T4 is a go,” Nycto replies.
The growl of engines fades as we cut power, drifting the last hundred yards. The ocean pushes us into position. We move like shadows, slipping toward the underbelly of the beast.
Toxin slides over the side of the boat without a sound, vanishing into the water like a phantom. I follow, the Tampa Bay biting through my wetsuit like it wants to freeze me from the inside out. But you can’t freeze a man who already has ice in his veins.
The cold only sharpens my senses.
The mission.
The rage.
The need to win.
We glide beneath the surface, flanking the barge’s port side. I catch glimpses of Brass and Atomic closing in from the south, Nerve and Dash from the north.
We are wolves encircling a kill.
Nycto whispers through comms, “All units in position.”
I check my gear. Everything is ready to raise pure fucking hell.
Nycto’s voice cuts in again, grim and clear, “Dash, Nerve, what’s your count?”
“Six guards posted, tight formation. Main entrances are wired, but we’ve got a clean lane to flank.”
“Copy. Brass, Atomic?” Nycto whispers down the line.
“South flank is ours. Breaching charges are ready to sing,” Atomic states.
A breathless stillness settles over us. My pulse beats like a war drum now through my chest. Even the bay feels like it’s holding its breath.
Nothing like blowing up a weapons facility to get your blood pumping.
“All right, brothers, this is the line. We break their spine, or we don’t come back. On my mark. Three… two… one…” Nycto gives the order.
And so it begins.
I wedge myself against the upper edge of the boat and climb, silent as smoke.
The cold bite of sea air clings to the slick metal grating as Toxin surfaces beside me, my hands on her hips while she pulls herself over the edge with lethal grace.
Her breath controlled, her eyes alive with the thrill of the storm to come.
My muscles tense as I vault up, landing in a low crouch.
My breath is steady, my heartbeat synced to the rhythm of the kill.
Toxin rises beside me, ghostly and fierce, water dripping from her skin, her silencer already sweeping the catwalk. Her eyes meet mine, sharp, alive, and for a second, there’s nothing but the storm of anticipation building between us.
Above, two guards murmur in lazy Spanish, laughing about something that won’t matter in five seconds. They’re lit by the faint glow of a hanging bulb, their rifles slung carelessly over their shoulders.
Complacent and vulnerable.
One hundred percent dead.
I flick two fingers. Left is mine. Right is hers. Toxin nods, already moving.
I close the distance like a shadow with a vendetta.
My hand clamps over the guy’s mouth just as his laugh chokes off in surprise.
My blade slides beneath his ribs, angling up, severing his breath and thought in one swift stroke.
He shudders, his body sagging into mine before I lower him gently, his boots dragging against metal as Toxin’s target drops almost in sync, firing two neat shots, one in his eye, the other to the asshole’s temple.
She doesn’t miss.
She never misses.
We exchange the briefest glance, one of dark amusement and mutual respect, teamed with a whole lot of filthy lust. I rearrange my cock in my jeans when she winks at me, then we spin and vanish into the barge.
Through comms, tension builds like a fuse.
Dash and Nerve confirm positions on the north side. Like echoes of vengeance, Brass and Atomic glide through the smoke on the southern end, fire erupting in their footsteps.
Nycto’s voice comes through, grim and final. “All teams ready.”
Then we all hold our breath.
Because we know what’s coming.
The distraction.
What better way to rally the guards protecting a weapons cache than to set off a few weapons, right?
The first detonation hits like a hammer of fire, bright, thunderous, and all-consuming.
It ignites the far south containers in a burst of light and fury.
The shockwave tears through the air like a beast unleashed, sending a visible ripple across the barge.
It hits my chest like a sledgehammer as the second blast hits closer, erupting from the east. The pressure punches us back.
I stumble, my shoulder slamming into the railing.
Toxin drops to one knee, bracing herself as shrapnel hisses overhead.
The metal walkway quivers beneath us, groaning under the strain.
Smoke surges upward, thick and pungent, choking the moonlight. Sirens wail as alarms blare through the chaos.
We rise, not shaken, but galvanized in our mission as Cartel soldiers start racing throughout the barge, screaming at each other about an incoming attack.
I smirk at Toxin, and she chuckles under her breath, that harmonious tune making my cock ache.
Too late, fuckers. We’re already here.
I leap over a crate, landing hard, and take out a soldier mid-turn, the bullet splitting through his eye socket like it belongs there. Toxin rolls into cover beside me, her Glock barking in a sharp staccato.
Another explosion rocks the facility, closer this time. The ground heaves beneath our feet. A fuel drum ignites with a rush, the flames licking high into the sky, painting everything in shades of red.
It’s a fucking beautiful sight.
Cartel soldiers pour out of every gap, shouting, firing, scrambling to contain what they never saw coming. Their coordination crumbles beneath the weight of our precision.
If I weren’t so busy taking these fuckers down, I would laugh in their frantic fucking faces!
Automatic fire flashes like lightning, and I duck behind a steel drum as bullets punch into it with brutal force, the vibrations rattling my spine.
I lean out, drop two more, one through the neck, the other through the chest. The assholes are going down like flies, crumpling, lifeless before my eyes.
Toxin moves like pure wrath incarnate. Her gorgeous body fluid, brutal.
An unstoppable force as she drops to one knee, spins, and fires.
Three enemies fall in succession, their bodies thudding against the cement, their blood painting the concrete in the most stunning way as she creates a masterpiece.
The coastline is burning.