62. Camilla
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
CAMILLA
B ile climbs up the back of my throat as my body convulses under the exertion of walking up the single flight of stairs, but I don’t pause.
Instead, I keep in time with Crew, my hands clenched around the handle of the gun. I may not be able to physically fight right now, but I’m a good shot, and I just need my hands to be steady enough for me to do what I need to.
We pause at the top of the steps, and Crew pulls the door open enough to look out before quietly closing it again. “There’s about ten of them out here. How many shots can you get off quickly?”
“How close are they together?”
“Three groups about twenty feet apart. One group sitting around a television, which we can leave until last.”
“I can take a group before they have the chance to draw their weapons,” I tell him confidently, ignoring the way my hands shake around the weapon I’m holding.
He lets out a steadying breath before he nods. “You go left, I’ll go right, and then we’ll deal with the third group together.”
I swallow down another wave of nausea as it rolls through my body. I’m fading fast, but I refuse to let them win. I can survive this. I can get out of here. I can see the rest of my men again.
Crew pulls the door open quietly and nods for me to step out first, and when I do, I hold the gun in front of me, ready to take out anyone who stands in our way.
I lock my sights on the group of men who have just become my target, and when one of them spots me, his mouth opening to blow our cover, I pop off a shot into the center of his forehead before he can get a single word out.
The man beside him doesn’t even get the chance to look at where the shot came from before he meets the same fate, and I take down the other two at the same time Crew gets off three bullets consecutively.
Each of our marks hits the ground almost at the same time, and the three men watching the television stand, their hands going straight to their own weapons, but they don’t get the chance to turn around before we take them out.
I check my bullets, and my heart stutters. I’m almost out already, and I know for a fact my body won’t survive a physical altercation, not with how much blood I’ve lost.
Crew follows my lead and disposes of the first gun, dropping it to the ground as he pulls the other from his waistband.
I drop into a crouch beside the first group of men I killed and pry their weapons from their hands, stashing one in my own waistband and keeping the other in my hand.
One of the men groans, his head tipping to the side as blood drips from the corner of his mouth. “You’re going to die,” he croaks.
“Not before you do.”
I push myself to my feet and take a look around the warehouse we’ve found ourselves in. Nothing about it seems familiar, but there’s also nothing special about it. Crates line the walls, and there’s a forklift parked in the corner, but it’s just like every other warehouse in the city.
I look to Crew to lead the way, and he nods toward the side of the building where there’s a small door.
He starts toward it, and I follow him, keeping my eyes on the huge space for any unwanted surprises, but despite how loud the gunshots were, no one came running. Is this all the men they had guarding us? I would have expected more given how much power the Syndicate holds inside and outside New York, but maybe they overestimated how well they’ve hidden us.
Our footsteps on the concrete are the only sound apart from my labored breathing, which earns me a concerned look from Crew.
“I’m fine,” I whisper, even though we both know I’m not.
I need medical attention soon, or I may not make it.
The thought makes my heart clench. I was sure I would survive this when we were chained up in that cell, but I don’t know if I was just convincing myself of the impossible in order to save myself pain and make sure Crew didn’t give up. He can still make it. He can still make it back to our family, even if I can’t.
I press my eyes closed to warn off the tears that well at the corners. What if I don’t get to see them again? What if there’s no more kisses or gentle touches? What if we never get another chance to say I love you?
The thought is almost as painful as the bleeding wound in my gut, but I swallow it down just as I have every other uncomfortable thought in the last few days. If I survive, there will be plenty of time to reflect on it in the future. And if I don’t, I’m sure the afterlife will be quiet enough for me to think about all the things I should have changed, all the things I should have done before my time on this earth came to an end.
We reach the door, and Crew leans against one side while I do the same on the other. It puts me at a slight disadvantage in some ways because the door will be in my way, but it also means I’ll have an added layer of protection depending on what’s on the other side of this wall.
I meet Crew’s eyes and nod, telling him I’m ready without having to open my mouth. We each take a breath, and then he tears the door open, quickly moving out into the fresh air.
When light doesn’t pour in through the open door, I realize it’s nighttime, which is an added advantage to us. We have the cover of darkness to escape into.
Gunshots fill the night, and I quickly slip around the metal door, keeping the gun high as I move out into the fresh air, and immediately lock on a masked man holding his gun at Crew.
I pop off two shots into the center of his chest, which makes him lose his balance as shock fills his dark eyes.
“Get down,” Crew shouts, and I don’t hesitate to follow his command, ducking behind a pile of pallets beside the door.
Wood shatters beside me as a bullet hits the place I was just standing, and my heart lodges itself in my throat. Fuck.
Bullets fly around me, hitting pallets, the side of the warehouse, and the ground, and I make myself as small as I can to protect my body even though my mind screams at me to get out there and help Crew.
I need to know if he’s okay.
The bullets stop, and I look up, checking to make sure there’s no one rounding my hiding place before I peek around the side of the pallets and see a few dead bodies littering the ground, but I don’t spot Crew.
I quietly slip around the other side of the pallets and sneak a look around the front, giving me the perfect view of Crew’s position. He’s behind a shipping container, his back pressed to the metal as he changes guns, but that’s when I spot them. Two men rounding on him, one from each side.
Without hesitating, I slip from behind the pallets and move toward them, keeping my footsteps light and my eyes peeled for anyone else.
Now that I’m out in the open, I realize there are a lot of containers, but I don’t think we’re anywhere near the docks.
I don’t get a chance to continue the line of thought because the two men circling Crew are closing in.
I shift slightly, taking aim at the one furthest away from me. “Crew, watch out,” I call out as I take the shot and hit the guy the moment his head comes around the edge of the container.
Crew locks on the other man and takes him down, allowing my shoulders to slump and the gun to fall to my side.
He looks up at me, his eyes shining with pride a moment before fear fills them, and it’s not until someone wraps their arm around my waist and tugs me against their body that I realize why.
“You’re not making it out of here alive, pet,” Charles growls against my ear as a gun presses to my side.
I hold Crew’s eyes, my stomach in knots as I stare into the eyes of the man I love.
I should have known it was all too easy, and this time I don’t bother trying to force the tears down, instead allowing them to fall against my cheeks as the hopelessness swallows me.