“We need to fucking go, right now,” I said. “Kill this fucker for dragging the girls in. They don’t need to be a part—”
“Wait!” Sonny shouted. “It’s a trap, Spawn! Think!”
“He may listen to you, but I’m fucking not,” Satan said. “You got your way with these Reaper boys. You’re not getting in the fucking way of my girlfriend.”
“Give us two minutes to think about it!” Sonny roared with far more force than he had up to that point. “King gave us this for a reason, knowing we would react accordingly. If we play right into his hands, odds are pretty damn high we’re fucking dead.”
I went outside, grabbed my actual phone, turned the timer to two minutes, and slammed it on the table.
“Start fucking thinking before I start fucking killing.”
“King knew the instant that you started watching that you were susceptible,” Sonny said. “So he has some sort of knowledge. And he’s using that knowledge to taunt you. The instant you show up, he’ll know it. So we need to play off that knowledge.”
“And how the fuck do you suggest we do that, boy?” Satan said.
Sonny drew in a breath.
“Someone has to watch this feed and be in real-time communication with whoever goes in,” Sonny said.
OK, that…made some sense. I still wanted to fucking charge in and beat the ever-living shit out of these fuckers, but at least Sonny made some lick of sense. Damn good thing too, otherwise I’d be beating his fucking brains out.
“If King is reacting to whatever news he gets, and we know that he knows, then we can use that to our advantage. So maybe we move in from one direction and attack from another. We need to do this smartly and in coordination. We go in guns blazing like we’re used to, at best, we win a war of attrition; at worst, we all get fucking slaughtered.”
“I’ll watch,” Cole said.
“No,” Lane said. “We get someone else. Get Mason. We need to join.”
He looked to Sonny.
“You wanted sacrifices. This is our way of proving it. We’re not in it to rescue the girls. We’re in it to kill King.”
“Different motivation, same goal, doesn’t fucking matter to me.”
“You trust him?” I growled.
Lane looked at me, something seeming to click in his eyes when he saw the bruises and swelling on my face.
“With my life,” Cole and Brock said together.
“So be it,” I said.
Lane was already calling Mason. He spoke briefly and quickly before turning to us.
“He can be here in two minutes.”
And at that, the timer on the phone rang.
“Their place is about ten minutes from here,” I said. “That’ll give him plenty of time. Let’s fucking go.”
