Deception. Betrayal. Mistrust.
It seems the closer Rayne gets to the truth, the more she finds herself wanting to run away from it. It's complex and terrifying-more than she ever fathomed.
New family members, good and bad, pop out at her like a br...
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"𝗛ow many rounds do you have left?"
Jase squinted his eyes, wincing, hiding them behind the thickness of his forearm as another round of enemy ammunition shot in his direction, forcing him against the wall. Sharp pieces of clay and silane hit the back of his next as the bullet pelted against the brick wall. The wind began to accelerate, raising the temperature of the air as the rain continued to lower it.
He snaked a hand around his waist, caressing the reload magazines he'd brought with him, trying to gauge an answer to his partner's question while he used the mobility of the other to keep his automatic rifle pressed to the inside of his shoulder. The moment the team had placed their boots on solid ground, war had broken loose. Matteo and Rueben were long gone—disappearing under the tumultuous weather without a word of communication through their wires.
The fifty men Emmet had donated were lumps of useless flesh surrounding them.
If Jase and Kaedyn hadn't been forced to the back of the line—if they hadn't been forced to make sure the inconsolable, weak, new members actually had the gall to step off the plane to fight with them—they might have been met with the same fate.
It was a bloodbath.
"One mag," Jase responded, repositioning his hand on his gun.
"Fuck," Kaedyn cursed.
Jase nodded his agreement to himself as he lowered his weapon enough to watch his partner. Kaedyn dug his hands into his pocket, retracting a handful of bullets. Jase watched the crease in his brows furrow deeply as he began to count under his breath and thumb more rounds into his pistol magazine.
They were running out of more than just ammo.
They were running out of time—out of energy.
"How many are left on your side?"
"About three," Kaedyn huffed, "You?"
"About the same, give or take a body."
There had to have been just as many bodies ready to take them on as they'd brought with them. It was as if they were two colliding battle fleets; only they had the luxury of land. The two of them had done their equal and fair job of tearing through their ranks just as they had the last time they went against the more powerful enemies of the Spanish mafia.
It had taken them upwards of an hour to minimize their numbers to this.
Jase leaned the back of his head against the cold brick and watched the exhale of his breath as memories of his late girlfriend sprang to the front of his head, recalling the last time he'd been forced to take cover. The cost of her life plagued him. Kept him pulling the trigger—or leaping out and taking an enemy bullet in the brain himself. But now that he was here, he no longer felt as if he was the weepy man he'd been since she died. Now that his fingers were wrapped around cool, black metal, his heart beat against his chest with a winner's anticipation.
