“Stay low,” I said. “I promise we’re coming back, but we have to clear this fucking place first.”
The girl nodded. I motioned for her to get down on the floor, hands over her head, and she did as commanded. I took a breath.
This girl would be safe. But if Callie wasn’t…if they’d done anything to my wife…if they’d taken her and sold her…
No one would leave this fucking building alive.
Think, Asher, think. King wants to torment you. He’s not going to get rid of her so quickly.
She’ll be here or somewhere else with the King’s Men. She won’t be sold.
The thought made sense. But it was of very faint hope considering what I was seeing and how it showed me I barely knew any of the more sinister aspects of the King’s Men operation.
I moved out of the room, waiting for the all-clear, and started going room-to-room, skipping past the ones where one of the Black Reapers had taken control. The situation was fucking sickening. I should have known better, but…
All the while, King’s Men peeked their heads around the doors, trying to shoot us. They clearly weren’t ready for us, as they mostly hunkered down instead of advancing, but it was enough that if King, Prince, or maybe even Crush were trying to get away, they could have.
And that’s when it fucking hit me.
If Callie was here, and she was with one of the King’s Men officers, she’d be far behind enemy lines. I’d have to skip over a lot of the intermediate doors to get to her.
It risked having someone trap me and shoot me from behind as I walked by, but I had no choice. I’d sooner get shot in the back and have a chance to rescue Callie than play it safe and have them get her away.
I called Butch over.
“Take the other wall and give me cover,” I said. “If anyone tries to take me out from behind, shoot their ass.”
“Yes.”
It was all I needed from the equivalent of the Terminator. I waited until there was a clearing, and then I made a dash for the end, probably another dozen or so doors down. A couple of times, I heard gunfire behind me.
I waited for the bullets to hit me, to drop to the ground, for my legs to give out from under me, but it never happened. Butch did his job.
Maybe there was something to be fucking said for teamwork.
But that wouldn’t be said until I fucking got Callie away to safety.
I came to the last door. I kicked it open—only for it to open so easily, I nearly hyperextended my knee. I landed awkwardly but, as best I could tell, without any structural damage or issues.
I stepped inside, sweeping the room with my gun.
“Ash!”
I looked to my left. Callie!
“You OK?”
“Ash, look—”
My gut told me to turn. At the last second, I just barely avoided a baseball bat swinging for my head. I hopped back to see Crush standing there, a wicked smile on his face.
“A shame of you to interrupt,” he growled. “Your lady and I were having some wonderful conversa—”
I’d heard fucking enough. I charged at Crush, tackled him into the wall, and fell to the floor with him. A scramble to establish top position broke out as we traded headbutts, punches, kicks, knees—whatever we could fucking get in.
Gunfire continued to erupt around us. It was just going to be the two of us.
Good. If this is what it took to kill the King’s Men, then so be it. I would gladly fight and kill to save Callie’s life.
