38. Riley
“This is bullshit,”I pant as the fight escalates around us, the Reapers who’ve showed up storming McKenna’s house with a brutal ruthlessness that has the West Point gang members fighting back in a panic. “What’s taking him so long?”
Logan yanks me back behind the thick tree trunk we’re using as cover, leaning around me to fire three rapid shots that take out one of McKenna’s men before he can deliver a killing blow to the Reaper he just put on the ground.
“Maddoc will get Dante out,” Logan says as the Reaper he just saved rolls back to his feet and shoots Logan a quick nod of thanks before attacking another group of men trying to hold fast at a set of French doors whose glass was shattered in the first wave of attack.
“I know, I know, I just—”
A fucking tsunami of gunfire suddenly erupts behind us, and Logan lets out a long string of curses as he roughly shoves my head down, then quickly scans the area and jerks his chin to the left. “There.”
He ducks low and urges me ahead of him, running toward a low-slung sports car riddled with bullets.
“What the fuck?” I gasp, adrenaline making all my senses feel like they’re on overdrive. “I thought we had the house contained!”
“He called in the mercs,” Logan says grimly, lifting his head up for a moment to scan the area before gripping my arm in an iron hold. “We need to move.”
He lays down cover fire as we rush toward a shed next to the house, taking cover again, but not before I see that he’s right. A wave of hired mercenaries start moving in on the Reapers who surround McKenna’s house, forcing them—us—to go from attacking to defending from both sides.
“They’re boxing us in,” I gasp, panic rising. “How are we supposed to fight through them when Maddoc finally gets Dante out?”
“First things first, wildcat.” Logan says grimly, nudging my gun arm. “Take that fucker by the rose bush out.”
He turns the other way, picking off two of the mercenaries. Trusting me to do my part.
It settles me. I take aim, falling into the training he’s given me, and take the shot.
The bullet slams into the siding behind the West Point bastard Logan just told me to aim for, and the man ducks down with a curse, trying to take cover.
He has none. Just that fucking bush.
I force my breath to stay even, and chamber another round, taking aim again. My heart feels like it’s trying to pound out of my chest. It feels like everything is moving way too fucking fast, like I can’t keep up as Logan forces us to shift positions over and over, sensing threats before I even notice them.
But it also feels like Maddoc has been in that house for way too fucking long, as if time somehow slowed down in there, even as it runs roughshod over all of us out here.
Sun glints off the gaudy gold ring on the West Point gang member’s hand as he swings his weapon around, trying to figure out where my shot came from. The scowl on his face is as dark as the devil and my heart freezes up for a second when I recognize his face.
He was one of the guards on me when Austin held me captive.
He wanted to use all my holes and pass me around like a broken fucktoy.
Fear tries to rise up and choke me, but I force it down hard, breathing out as I push that shit aside and focus on the moment. All that matters is here and now, and clearing a way for Maddoc to get Dante out of that fucking house.
I pull the trigger again.
This time, I hit the fucker, and a triumphant burst of violent satisfaction explodes in my chest.
It’s cut short when Logan slams me back against the shed wall. Hot lead tears a chunk out of the spot right next to us, a mercenary advancing on our position with what looks like a military-grade weapon spitting fire in our direction. Logan’s mouth goes tight. He shoves me over, then shoots to his feet and puts a bullet through the man’s eye.
He drops, and Logan yanks me up. “Move.”
A trio of mercs are right behind the one Logan just took out, and we sprint across the lawn, heading for alternate cover. As we reach it, Logan slams into me with a grunt.
“Fuck,” I pant, my grip tightening on my weapon. “Are you hit?”
“I’m good,” he says gruffly. “But Maddoc had better do whatever he’s going to do in there fast, or we’ll all be dead. The mercs are overpowering us.”
Another volley of gunfire comes from the house, forcing us to shift positions again.
“Run!” Logan shouts, right before punching me in the chest.
I go down to my knees hard, and only realize it wasn’t him—of course it wasn’t him—when I look up and see him covering me, shooting back at yet another group of mercs with a look of deadly rage on his face. He spares me one glance, his eyes scanning me up and down to make sure the bulletproof vest did its job, then nods sharply and pops up to his feet.
He takes out the guy who shot me with a single headshot, then mows down the three other mercs who were in formation with him.
I suck in a wheezing breath, forcing air into my lungs as I scan our surroundings. We’re too vulnerable here. We have to move. We have to—
“Riley!” he shouts, swinging his weapon around to cover me from the other side as an upper floor window is abruptly flung open.
All the breath I just fought so hard for rushes right back out of me as a body is hurled through it a moment later. It lands in the middle of the lawn with a sickening crunch, and I realize in a flash who it is.
Austin McKenna.
The gaping bullet hole between his sightless eyes makes it obvious that it wasn’t the fall that killed him.
All around us, the fighting pauses as Reapers and McKenna’s people alike stare in stunned silence at the corpse sprawled on the lawn. Maddoc stands in the window, his blood-streaked face a stone mask as he stares down at the body of his enemy, then looks around, scanning the chaos and destruction.
“McKenna is dead,” he finally calls out, his voice carrying to all of us. “For those of you who are here because he was paying you to fight, you can stay and die for a dead man, or you can stand down and the Reapers will pay you double whatever West Point promised.”
The mercenaries shift uneasily, glancing at each other as they mutter amongst themselves about the offer. I hold my breath, the air thick with tension as everyone waits to see whether or not they’ll back off.
Finally, one of them spits on the ground, lowering his weapon. “Not like we’ll be able to extract payment from a corpse,” he says in a gravelly voice, walking up and nudging Austin’s body with the toe of his boot. He looks up at Maddoc in the window. “How do we know you’re good for it?”
Even from here, I can see Maddoc’s jaw tighten. “I’m a Reaper.”
The merc locks gazes with Maddoc for a tense moment, then makes some kind of hand gesture that has his men slowly start to melt away, one by one, covering each other as they go.
The surviving West Point gang members immediately start cursing them out, shouting threats after the mercenaries as they silently retreat.
“What the fuck!” one of them shouts, shooting to his feet from behind the bed of a truck near the curb. He points his weapon at a group of retreating mercenaries. “Boss already paid you good money! You fucking pussies! You can’t—”
Gunfire from one of the Reapers near the house splits the air, shutting him the fuck up. He dives back down for cover, but the tide has totally turned against West Point, and the surviving members all seem to realize it at once. Every fucking one of them who can still move makes a break for it, Reapers helping route them out of the house and hurry them along with a deafening spray of bullets that tears the ever-loving fuck out of the neighborhood as they go.
I add some lead of my own, running out of bullets long before I run out of rage.
“It’s over,” Logan says, reaching out to lower my gun arm when the trigger keeps clicking. He glances around, then nods at me, giving me that tiny smile of his. “There are no more threats here, wildcat. But we’ve got to move. We need to clean up the mess here and get out.”
I swallow hard, really looking around for the first time. The aftermath is exactly the kind of thing likely to draw the attention The Six keep warning us about, but Austin is dead and Dante is alive, so it was worth it.
Logan wraps an arm around me, leading me away from cover, toward the house. Despite having just told me there were no more threats, he keeps a wary eye out, reminding me that we’re still in the heart of West Point’s territory.
“Logan,” I blurt, my heart suddenly in my throat again as I realize I don’t actually have confirmation that all the men I care about are okay. “Dante is alive, right? Maddoc would have—”
“He did,” he cuts me off, his wary alertness replaced for a split second by a smile so blinding I have to blink. Then his usual mask drops back into place, and he nudges me forward. “He’s right there.”
My breath hitches, and I shove my way past a couple of Reapers just as Maddoc and Dante step out of the front door.
A low rumble of approval comes from the surrounding Reapers, but I’ve got eyes only for Dante.
He looks like shit.
Maddoc is basically holding him up, and Dante honestly looks more like a creature stitched together from blood and bruises than a man.
It makes my heart ache.
It also makes me want just one more fucking bullet, so I can put another one into Austin’s corpse.
I rush up the stairs and then stop, needing to reach for him but not wanting to add to his pain. He gives me a little half grin that reassures me, the vibrant green a little dulled but still potent enough to make my breath catch.
“Princess,” he mumbles as Logan comes up behind me and Maddoc addresses the crowd, gathering them around. “We got the fucker.”
Fierce pride swells in my chest. Damn fucking right we did.
“Report,” Maddoc says to his people, his face hard as he scans the crowd.
Various Reapers call out, confirming merc and West Point kills and detailing the Reaper wounded.
And the dead.
Maddoc takes it all in stoically, but I can see how much it affects him. It’s why they all showed up for him. Why they’ll follow him to hell and back, and just proved it. His people are and always will be the main thing that matters to him, and his voice is so tight it sounds like it’s going to snap as he demands the name of each Reaper who fell.
“They wanted to be here, just like you did, Maddoc,” Logan says quietly once the accounting has been made.
Maddoc’s fists clench, but then he nods. It’s part of the price every single person has to be willing to pay in this world, and this time at least, the cost was worth it.
“Round up our wounded and dead,” he finally says. “Get them out of here so we can finish this thing.”
The Reapers move into action, making quick work of taking care of their own. Maddoc pulls a few men aside and directs them to drag all the West Point bodies out of the house, then douse every fucking inch of it with the accelerant the Reapers brought with them.
Sirens start to wail in the distance before they’re done, but Maddoc doesn’t move. “We’re seeing this thing through.”
Dante answers with a fierce, bloody grin, and Logan’s pale eyes blaze with approval.
The last of the Reapers tasked with dousing the property finally dashes out of the house, tossing the empty gas can he used back through the front door.
He gives Maddoc a nod. “It’s ready. It’ll go up fast and take everything down to ashes.”
“Good,” Maddoc says. “Now go.”
His people clear out, leaving just the four of us. The sirens are closer now, their urgent wail piercing through the air, but for a moment, no one moves.
Then Maddoc hands me a matchbook. “Burn the fucker down, butterfly.”
I give him a savage smile. West Point hurt everyone I’ve ever loved. They tried to take everything from me. And they failed.
“With fucking pleasure.”
I strike a match, the sharp tang of sulfur cutting through the scent of blood, sweat, and pain that surrounds all four of us.
Then I toss it into Austin’s house, and with a loud whomp, flames erupt everywhere.