The prospect on top of me grinned and pressed down harder on my throat. He had that familiar glint in his eyes, one that I recognized. He was young, but there was something that spoke to a hard-knock life similar to my own. It was obvious he thrived off of King’s praise—quite literally me from the past. There was no turning this prospect; he was already too deep in the King’s grip. One hand left my throat, and I caught a breath.
But the victory was short-lived. The boy pulled out a small revolver, pressing it to my skull. His smile told me that he was going to enjoy this kill. I heard King’s chilling laugh echo through the building. The cold metal of the barrel was against my skull, and I had a fleeting thought about Brianna.
I never told her the truth, I closed my eyes with regret.I should have told her.
A gunshot rang out. But I felt no pain. I felt drops of water on my face, and I opened my eyes hesitantly. It wasn’t water, but blood dripping from the kid’s face. The left side of his skull was obliterated by a bullet, and I hefted his dead body off of mine.
I turned to thank the Reaper who had shot him but stopped short. It wasn’t a Reaper who had killed the King’s member. It was the one from that first night that I met Brianna—when Ash shot me in the leg. He was sporting a similar wound and was limping. He smiled proudly at me, and I had to admit the kid had some guts.
“My name’s Terror,” he bellowed, but not to me. To the warehouse. He was standing tall and proud, and I knew that the tides of the battle had turned. There was a silence, men from both sides pausing. The flames licked up Terrors cut, and he hobbled over to me. He held out his hand and helped me up. “Down with King! Who’s with us?”
It was like a chain reaction was triggered. And soon, those that were tired of being beaten down by King made their way to the fire. I saw King watch intently, but his face betrayed no emotion of shock. But as more and more prospected and patched members came out, his face fell into a frown.
The line was drawn, and both sides regrouped. If my estimation was correct, the balance of men had just tipped in our favor. King’s face went slack, and he started to make his way to the stairs. I was determined to beat him there, and gunshots and screams rang out as the battle returned its focus on bloodshed. It was weird to see King’s Men fighting guys with no cut, but it sure made it easier to see how many had actually turned.
I managed to beat King to the bottom of the stairs by the emergency exit. I let out a cry as I launched at him, taking him and his bodyguards by surprise. It happened so fast, and I was on top of King. His bodyguards turned, guns drawn up, but Lane and Ash sent them to the ground with tackles of their own.
I was still short a gun, I realized as I reached for my pistol. King smirked below me and rolled me onto my back. He was a quick draw with his desert eagle, but I was faster. I grabbed the knife at my hip and slashed at him. King roared, and my eyes went wide. Right above his eyebrow, I had given King a five-inch-long gash, deep enough to scar at least. Blood beaded up and dripped down his face.King bleeds red, I thought. And it was the first time ever.
It was as if we were on the big screen, the entire battle on pause as everyone turned to see King bleeding. The realization of King’s own mortality, that he wasn’t untouchable, gave the Black Reapers a second wind, and the battle resumed with a vengeance. King shoved me back, and I tumbled into Ash, and we both hit the ground. The old coot was fast on his feet, scrambling to the door.
His bodyguards resumed their shielding position, and they reached the door. King turned, showing the bright red blood that was dripping down his face and onto his now dirtied white suit. Lane and Cole rolled up into a crouch and took aim. They managed to shoot the bodyguards, but King escaped out the door. The bodies dropped, but King didn’t look back as he made his way into the night.
Cole gave the order not to pursue, and the Black Reapers stood still. Which was fine with me—I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. We had managed to actually beat King at his own game. Not to mention, we had a whole new batch of men on our side. It may not have ended with King dead, but it was still a win.
I saw Prince at the doorway, his jaw still bruised from where I punched him. His eyes were serious and cold, but there was something in the way his face was that made me think it wasn’t against me. His eyes flicked to Lane and Cole, and then returned to me. He nodded to me in solidarity and then disappeared out the door.
We all looked around. The Black Reapers made their rounds, helping their soldiers to their feet. The wounded of King’s Men that were loyal to King were killed. Those that pledged their allegiance to the Reapers were helped up. And then, suddenly, the air lifted. Everyone that was alive and in the warehouse was a free man from King.
Cheers erupted, and the celebration ensued. This wasn’t the end—not by a long shot. But it was one hell of a beginning. The final battle had yet to come, but I exhaled. I would cross that bridge when I came to it, but now it was time to loot and revel in our victory. I smiled and made my way to the middle of the crowd. Silence fell, and the soldiers grouped up.
I saw the eyes on me—those of the King’s Men who had turned. Waiting expectantly for some sort of direction. Terror stood at the front on his one good leg, and he looked like he had finally grown into his shell of a body. He wasn’t a weakling, willing to do whatever and jumpy at the sound of vodka bottle hitting a wall. This boy had turned into a man, and I smiled at him.
“You’re all free,” I cheered as I looked around at the crowd. There were probably thirty or so King’s Men who were now…whatever the hell they wanted to be. “Do as the Reapers say. They’re a hell of a lot better than King. I know we’re tired and weary, but we can’t let up. King will turn the city on us.”
“Down with King!” Terror bellowed.
And the crowd of Black Reapers and turned men let out a roar. Some even began chanting the new phrase Terror had coined. There was a looting of the crates, celebration ringing free. This might have been what the colonial Americans felt like in Yorktown, but I doubted they all felt this damn good. I watched as Lane, Cole, and Sonny were talking with different people. Ash was helping the wounded.
We need Brianna times five, I mused.
But a few other Reapers came in, boxes of bandages and first aid kits galore. The wounded would be fine for now, I decided. But the thought of Brianna had my stomach roiling. I stepped into the shadows, finding a quiet room with no one else in it. I checked my phone.
Over ten missed calls from that same unknown number. There was one voicemail from over an hour ago. We had just gotten into town then if I was estimating the timeline correctly. My hands shook as I dialed the mailbox, impatiently waiting for the dumb automated voice to shut the fuck up and get on with it. Soon, I heard Brianna’s voice.
She was crying, I could tell. Her voice was wobbly, saying a string of words I couldn’t catch with the noise happening on the other side of the door. I could just imagine her blue eyes looking like fractured glass. Visions of her on her balcony, fighting against King’s grip, had my blood running cold. I heard Brianna take a deep breath, and her voice steadied.
Can you meet me at my place as soon as you can?
I didn’t need to be told twice. I bolted out of the room, calling her as I did. There was no answer, and I picked up the pace, throwing my phone in my pocket. I shot an excuse to Ash and Cole, who were by the door. Something along the lines ofBriannaandtroubleandmy woman. I launched myself onto my bike, starting the engine. The tires squealed as I pulled away, and I raced into traffic.
I prayed, hoping she could somehow know that I was coming for her. But at least I knew she was safe and home. There was no way King would make a move on her place, not without regrouping first. And he didn’t have his precious bodyguards anymore. Whatever it was, though, the sound of her voice was still making my stomach churn. I pulled the throttle harder.
I’m on my way, sweetheart.
Brianna
Iwas still sitting on the couch in my gold dress getup. I hadn’t moved since I sat down. I stared at the blank television, my phone battery having died an hour ago. I had no idea what time it was even, but the deep violet-blue of the sky told me it was night. Before midnight, if I was reading the moon correctly.
