But the Alliance clearly isn’t backing down.
They’ve come here to send a message written in blood and gunpowder.
My heart races in my chest as Lorenzo himself emerges from behind the lead Mercedes, a chrome-plated pistol in each hand like some kind of cartel desperado. “You think you can disrespect us onourturf, Sin?” he bellows, his accent thick with fury. “Time to learn what happens when you break the treaty.”
His guns bark in alternating rhythm.Left, right, left, right,forcing Nitro and Axle to press themselves flat against their concrete barrier as bullets chip away at their cover like an angry sculptor.
The air fills with the stench of gunpowder and the metallic tang of blood. Brass casings rain down on the asphalt like deadly confetti, their tinkling melody almost musical beneath the thunder of gunfire.
Liam, the younger prospect, tries to advance on the Alliance’s left flank but catches a bullet in his thigh. He goes down hard, rolling behind a parked Harley as he clutches the wound. “Fuck! I’m hit!” Dark blood seeps between his fingers, but he’s still moving, still breathing.
I need to get closer. Instinct instantly catapults me out of the clubhouse to help Liam, ignoring the calls from Ro behind me to come back. Bullets fly by my head, forcing me to duck behind a concrete barrier. Bullets are flying everywhere, and I don’t have a gun or any protection to help me. My heart hammers in my chest as I squat behind the concrete and peek out, watching the carnage erupt around me. So, I sit back, watching poor Liam bleed out, my hands shaking with adrenaline, knowing I am so close, and yet just that little bit too far to help.
“Fuck!” I mumble under my breath, my breathing ragged as a bullet slams into the concrete beside my head, forcing me to duck again.
“Cover him,” Sin roars, and immediately Ghost and Bear lay down suppressing fire, their weapons creating a wall of lead that keeps the Alliance pinned while Liam crawls to safety.
Suddenly, a Molotov cocktail arcs through the air from Dante’s position, trailing fire like a comet. I duck as it smashes against the side of the clubhouse, sending liquid flames racing across the wooden siding. “Jesus Christ!” I gasp, the smell of burning wood and gasoline fills the air, adding another layer to this hellish symphony.
“Fire! We got fire on the building,” Axle yells, even as he continues trading shots with an Alliance gunman.
But this is just the beginning.
I see it in Lorenzo’s eyes, in the way his men position themselves with military precision. They didn’t come here for a quick skirmish. They came here to make a statement that would echo through the Vegas underground for years to come.
This is war.
My anxiety ripples through me, time fractures like broken glass. Seconds stretch into eternities while minutes compress into heartbeats. The sounds of the battle blur together into a hellish orchestra, the staccato percussion of gunfire, the bass drum of boots on concrete, the shrieking ricochets off metal against metal, and beneath it all, the guttural symphony of men’s voices shouting orders, curses, and warnings.
My world has narrowed to this concrete barrier, this small slice of safety in a parking lot turned war zone. The rough texture of the concrete presses against my spine as I huddle here, feeling every vibration as bullets impact on either side. Each hit sends tiny chips of concrete raining down on my head like gray snow.
Sin moves through this chaos like a predator in his element, his body fluid and purposeful despite the storm of lead flying around him. Every order he barks carries absolute authority, his eyes constantly scanning, calculating angles and threats with the cold precision of a battlefield general. My pulse skyrockets as his eyes meet mine from across the battle, and like something from a fucking action movie, he walks right through the middle ofthe lot, bullets ripping past him. But he doesn’t even flinch, just keeps his eyes on me as he dives behind the barrier next to me, panting for breath.
His hands come out, smoothing over me, instantly sending goose bumps pebbling over my skin. “Are you hurt?” he asks, checking that I’m okay, something fierce and protective blazing in those mismatched eyes. A promise that nothing will touch me as long as he draws breath.
But this war is bigger than one man, even one as formidable as Sin.
“I’m fine… this is fucking madness,” I yell over the chaos blasting around us.
He grins mischievously, tilting his head. “This, everything you’re seeing, is all off the record, by the way.” He winks at me, then takes off back into the fray, like I am supposed to just accept that bullshit.
A bullet slams an inch from my head, and I duck down lower, letting out a groan. “This is fucking crazy,” I mumble under my breath.
The Alliance has brought their A-game.
Dante rolls from cover to cover with military precision, his assault rifle chattering in controlled bursts that keep multiple Defiance members pinned down. Lorenzo orchestrates his men like a conductor leading a deadly symphony, his chrome pistols flashing in the desert sun as he lays down covering fire.
My attention is focused on Sin, who’s engaged in a vicious firefight with two Alliance members behind their Mercedes. Nitro and Ghost are dealing with Lorenzo’s main assault, their weapons roaring as they try to break the cartel formation.
Suddenly, Ro screams, “Elizabeth! Behind you!”
One of Lorenzo’s lieutenants, a wiry man with arms covered in cartel ink, flanks wide, around the left side of the compound.He moves like silk, using the smoke from the clubhouse fire as cover, his pistol held low and ready.
And he’s heading straight for me.
I spin just as he rounds the corner of my barrier, his gun rising at me with lethal intent. Time slows to a crawl as I see the dark bore of his pistol, the cruel smile twisting his scarred lips, the anticipation in his predatory eyes.
“La periodista,” he snarls in accented English. “Lorenzo wants to have words with you, little dove.”
