Chapter 8 - Rage #2
Vulture's face contorts with fury. He raises his weapon again, but King is faster. His first shot catches Vulture in the shoulder, spinning him around. The second hits his thigh, dropping him to one knee.
"It's over," King repeats, moving closer, his gun trained on Vulture's head. "Drop the weapon."
For a moment, it looks like Vulture might comply. His gun wavers, lowering slightly. Then his eyes dart to Tommy, still bound to the chair, watching the confrontation with mounting panic.
"Vulture, don't leave me," Tommy pleads. "Get me out of here, man. They'll kill me."
Something changes in Vulture's expression—a cold calculation replacing the rage.
"You got caught," he says, his voice suddenly flat. "You let them take you alive."
"I didn't have a choice!" Tommy protests. "There were two of them, they—"
"There's always a choice," Vulture interrupts. "Die fighting or live as a liability." His gun comes up again, but not toward King or any of us.
Toward Tommy.
"No, wait—" Tommy begins, but the rest of his words are lost in the deafening crack of Vulture's gun.
The bullet catches Tommy in the center of his forehead, killing him instantly. His body slumps in the chair, blood and brain matter splattering the wall behind him.
The shock of it freezes us all for a crucial second. Long enough for Vulture to bring his weapon back toward King. But Tank recovers first, firing a shot that takes Vulture in the arm, causing his own shot to go wide.
Vulture staggers backward. He fires wildly, forcing us to take cover, then makes a break for the door.
"Stop him!" King shouts, but Vulture is already through the doorway, disappearing down the corridor.
Beast and I pursue, charging into the hallway. Vulture is limping badly from the bullet in his leg, leaving a trail of blood, but he's moving with desperate speed.
"Split up," I tell Beast. "Cut him off at the garage."
Beast nods and peels off down a side corridor while I continue the direct pursuit. Ahead, Vulture crashes through a door into the main hall, where the initial fighting was heaviest.
The scene that greets us is one of devastation. Overturned furniture, bullet holes in walls, blood smeared across the floor. Bodies lie scattered. All Eagles, I note with grim satisfaction. Our brothers have held their ground.
Vulture sees it too, the evidence of his failed assault. His men are dead or retreating, Tommy executed by his own hand. Whatever advantage he thought he had coming into tonight has evaporated.
He turns, sensing me behind him. His face is pale from blood loss, his eyes wild with the knowledge of defeat.
"This isn't over," he gasps, raising his gun once more.
I dive behind an overturned table as he fires, the bullets splintering wood above my head. When I rise to return fire, he's already moving again, heading for the garage where the Eagles first breached our defenses.
I follow, keeping low, weapon ready. As I reach the garage, I hear engines starting—motorcycles. Through the open bay door, I see Vulture climbing onto a bike, three other Eagles mounting up beside him. They must have been waiting, a contingency plan if things went south.
I raise my weapon, but they're already peeling out, tires squealing as they accelerate away from the compound. I fire anyway, catching one Eagle in the back. He slumps forward but stays on his bike as they disappear into the night.
"Rage!" King's voice behind me. "Report."
"Vulture's gone," I say, lowering my weapon. "Escaped with three Eagles on bikes. I winged one, but they got away."
King joins me at the garage entrance, surveying the empty driveway beyond. "He won't get far. Not with those injuries. We'll find him."
I nod, though the escape leaves a bitter taste. Vulture was the prize, the head of the snake. Without him, the Eagles might scatter, regroup elsewhere, continue to be a problem.
The radio crackles again. Shadow's voice: "Compound secure. Eagles in full retreat. We've got six prisoners, dozen or more dead. No casualties on our side, few injuries."
Relief floods through me. We held. We won. Most importantly, everyone survived—my brothers, the women in the safe room, Eli.
"Let's check the perimeter, make sure there are no more surprises," King says. "Then we get the women and children out of the safe room."
As we move through the clubhouse, assessing damage and checking on injured brothers, I find my thoughts returning to Claire. She's safe. Luna would have alerted us if there had been any threat to the safe room, but I need to see her, need to confirm with my own eyes that she's unharmed.
Need to tell her that Tommy is dead. That particular demon, at least, can never hurt her again.
Whether that brings her peace or just more trauma remains to be seen. But one thing is certain: she's free of him now. Forever.
As for Vulture... that's a problem for tomorrow. Tonight, we've won the battle, even if the war isn't quite over. Tonight, we'll tend our wounds, count our blessings, hold our loved ones close.
Tonight, we've proven once again why you don't fuck with the Savage Riders in our own territory.
And if Vulture is stupid enough to come back for round two, we'll be waiting.