Chapter Thirty-Four
Greyson
Scarlett’s posture stiffens and her eyes widen the moment our red-alert alarm goes off.
Fucking damnit.
The one time she comes to me, shows as much passion as I do, and truly gives into me… it has to be interrupted. Of course.
“What’s going on?” she asks loudly, voice shrill. All the blood drains from her face. “Oh God, is it…?” she doesn’t dare to put in words what we’re both thinking.
This has something to do with her father.
Heart hammering in my chest, I stand from the bed and jog over to the dresser. I throw a bundle of clothes at her while swiftly pulling on dark jeans and a dark shirt.
“Greyson,” Scarlett calls out shrilly. “What the fuck is going on?”
“I don’t know,” I respond. But I’m about to find out.
“Get dressed and meet me in the office,” I tell her.
I’m loathe to leave her alone right now, but there’s a serious fucking threat invading a place that should be untouchable, and I need to figure out the severity of what’s going on and how the fuck I’m going to navigate this shit show.
I have a total of six men with me here—my unit, Max, and a few other stragglers. Two of them are guarding the front gates, and if the alarm’s gone off… that means whoever was guarding the gates isn’t anymore.
I sprint to my office, going right for my computers and firing them up. The monitors are a bit askew—my earlier session with Scarlett made its mark on my office—but I don’t get a moment to reminisce before haunting security footage fills the screen.
Four cars are pulling up to the front of HQ. If the walls weren’t soundproofed, I’d probably hear the engines running. I pull the burner phone I use with my unit out of my desk drawer and call Max—as far as I know, he’s in the gym with the others.
“The fuck is going on?” he shouts. Hearing the alarms over the phone and around me is overwhelming to my senses, but I press forward.
“Sixteen guys just pulled up to the front door,” I say loudly, watching on screen as men file out, one by one.
The footage is somewhat grainy, and most of the guys are wearing black ski masks…
but I’m willing to bet all the money in my bank that Luther fucking Sharpe is here with them.
“They’re armed, armored, and here to kill. ”
There’s a soft pause on the other end of the line. Finally, Max growls, “Fuck.”
I hit a few buttons to disable the alarms threatening to burst my eardrums. It’s essential that we’re able to hear the movements of the intruders.
“Lockdown initiated the moment the alarm went off. All doors and windows are locked and bulletproofed.” But, as I watch some of the attackers pull a shit ton of C-4 from the cars…
“That won’t hold them off for long. They’ve got explosives.
Suit up with the unit; vests and as many weapons as each of you can carry.
Have Tobias send out a distress signal.” I drop to my knees and rip up the carpet under my desk.
“To who?” Max demands. “All of our fucking forces are deployed—”
“To anyone. Any favor we have to call in. Anyone who’s in vicinity and can help. We need fucking backup, Max,” I growl.
Max pauses. “I’ll see what I can do. Rendezvous point?”
“Dining hall,” I reply. “We have the advantage there.” I hang up and press my thumb to the biometrics scanner on the floor, beneath the carpet. A locking mechanism goes off with a click, and the floor slides open, revealing my personal weapons cache.
While Cain hasn’t directly outlawed personal weapons, he has put a limit on them to discourage any serious fighting within the organization… and just to exercise his fucking control. But I’m loathe to part with my favorite guns, so I stashed them away where Cain couldn’t get to them.
I start lifting handguns and semis out from the floor, laying them out on the desk. Scarlett stumbles into the room just as I’m holstering up and checking ammo cartridges. If at all possible, her face pales even more.
I slide two guns with respective holsters across the desk to her. “Suit up, Flower. Shit’s about to go down.”
“Greyson.” Her voice is trembling. “My brother called. Luther… Dad…” her breath catches, and tears glimmer in her eyes.
At any other time, I’d wrap her up in my arms and tell her she’s safe, to take her time voicing her thoughts, but time is the single luxury that we don’t have right now.
“Scarlett, now isn’t the time to get choked up—what is it?”
She swallows hard. “Luther wasn’t with the woman. Eric can’t… he can’t find him. I think,” a sob breaks up her sentence, “he’s here.”
My precious Flower has gone through many horrible things in this life—several of which were inflicted by me. And yet, the only time I’ve seen her even approximate the sheer terror written all over her is when I called her father.
My heart aches, and my jaw clenches. “Remember when I said I’d bring you your father’s head on a platter?”
She gives a shaky nod.
“It’s happening sooner rather than later. Stay here, Scarlett. In this office. Do you know how to use a gun?”
She nods jerkily. “I grew up with Luther Sharpe. Of course I know how to shoot.”
“Good. Be ready to. Leave the office door cracked—if anyone other than me gets into the apartment, shut it, lock it, and barricade yourself behind the desk. Overturn furniture as a shield, and shoot without mercy. If you need more weapons or ammo, you’ll find them under the desk.”
“Eric’s on his way,” Scarlett says. “He’s coming by helicopter. ETA is 30 minutes.”
“We don’t have that much time,” I say, shaking my head.
Not when it’s four versus sixteen. Maybe we can hold them off for a while, split up and take them out…
but splitting when we’re so outnumbered is extremely risky.
We’re in desperate need of a strategy. “Do as I said, Flower. I’ll see you soon.
” I jog to the door, pausing to give Scarlett a fierce kiss.
I send a prayer to whatever god does or doesn’t exist, hoping beyond hope that I will see her again.
I allow myself one final look at her. I drink in her beauty. Her cleverness. The freckles dusting her cheeks, and the glimmer of intelligence ever-present in her eyes.
And then, I do the only thing I can do for her right now; I leave her behind.
I can’t risk getting stuck in the elevator, so I jog down the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Fury pumps through my veins, motivating me to move faster, clutch my AR tighter.
Intruders are at the door of the only sanctuary I’ve ever known.
My anger heightens as the ground beneath me and walls around me shake from the force of another explosion, sending small piles of cement and dust showering down.
I’m going to kill every last motherfucker who’s here to take my life, to take me from Scarlett. I’ll piss on their fucking graves.
When I slam open the door to the first floor, I’m greeted with chaos. Four operatives running around the entrance hall, going to and from the hallway to the weapons room and in and out of the dining hall. Max stops in front of me—armed to the teeth and vested—and gives me a single look over.
“You need a fucking vest,” he says urgently. “Tobias estimated the front door will hold against another three charges—five minutes. Then, they’re in, and we’re fucked.”
“We’re not fucked,” I disagree. We can’t be, because I refuse to leave Scarlett. I’ll cling to life with every fiber of my being and fight with a vigor I’ve never had before… because until now, I haven’t had anything to live for.
“Let’s hope,” Max quips. “Suit up, Grey.”
“Follow me,” I say.
Together, we jog to the weapons room—an armory with four walls all hung with various implements for murder and implements for keeping one safe from being murdered. I pass a row of canisters that contain nerve agents, and pause. They’re clearly labeled, hanging next to a dozen gas masks.
That… is something that could work to our advantage. I didn’t see gas masks on the intruders.
If they’re smart, only a small group of them will enter to clear the entrance hall as soon as they get through the front door… and they could be met with a poisonous, painful death.
I pick up three canisters, sheathing two on my belt, and tossing the other to Max.
He follows along with my thought process and swiftly picks up a gas mask. “These are short-range,” he says, nodding at the cannisters. “Fifteen feet at most, and a two-minute window of peak efficiency.”
“If they even take out two operatives, they help even our odds,” I respond, gathering several more gas masks.
After I’ve vested up, we convene with the remaining Nighthawks at the entrance to the dining hall. I don’t waste any time as yet another explosion reminds me that every second trickling by is a second we all come closer to a dog fight we’re not ready for.
“Listen up,” I call out, raising my voice to be heard over the impact of the explosion.
“Max and I will take the front hall, hiding behind pillars. When the first unit enters, I’ll gas them, and throw another canister outside to take out as many of them as we can.
If we’re lucky, we’ll manage to take out half of them, but that’ll still leave us outnumbered.
Now, this is nerve gas, so if at any point you’re even close to a canister, mask up.
“You three,” I nod at Toby, Bryan, and Elijah, “will guard the dining hall. Create barricades. Overturn tables. Make a lure so the guys head in here, and then take them out. It’s essential that we keep them away from the armory—if they get in there, they have access to an endless supply of weapons.
” Usually, being cornered is bad for business in guerilla warfare, but not in this case.
We need to keep the intruders away from the armory, and all the other dangerous rooms in headquarters.
I turn to Max, thinking on my feet. “As soon as we’ve gassed the fuckers, find a vantage point to hide.
Take the assholes out one bullet at a time. ”
Max shakes his head. “I need to be beside you.”