Cipher moves before I can stop him. He rolls, comes up on one knee, firing clean and sure. One of the Vultures staggers and drops in front of us. I recognize the patch on his cut, blood soaking the black vulture emblem.
Two more shadows surge in, boots pounding, guns raised. I press my back against the nearest wall and let instinct take over. The first one slips past Cipher and lunges for me. He’s a man with a greasy ponytail, craggy teeth and he reeks of whiskey. Smoke spills into the area and it’s hard to see through the stinging pain.
I raise my weapon, and fire off a round at the moving shadow through the smoke, knowing Cipher is to my far right.
The stinky fucker drops like a rock. “Enjoy meeting the devil,” I mutter.
Tears stream down my face from the burning of the smoke. I wipe at them and in doing so I open myself up like an idiot. Another Vulture I didn’t hear come in the back door of the kitchen grabs a handful of my hair and yanks me off my feet. Pain blooms along my scalp but I twist, slamming my knee between his legs, then drive the butt of my Glock into the bridge of his nose. He howls, letting go, but another one of his buddies is already there. He swings a fist, and white-hot stars burst behind my eyes as his knuckles catch my jaw.
I go down hard, the world spinning. My weapon skids out of my hand. The cold floor kisses my bare cheek and I swear I’ve never been punched so hard in my life.
Blood tastes like copper pennies as I spit onto the wood. I see Cipher, his face carved with terror and rage, taking out another man with a brutal efficiency that’s almost beautiful.
But there are too many.
I scramble, slip in a puddle of melted snow and blood. A Vulture grabs my arm, twisting until my shoulder screams. My gun lies on the floor by a chair leg. I lunge for it, fingers closing over the cool, steel handle.
A boot comes down on my hand. Pain radiates up my arm, but I don’t let go. I grab the gun with my other hand and fire off a shot, missing the man’s foot but making him jump back. Another set of arms wraps around my waist, hauling me up and that’s when I see it.
The black book Grudge had is now lying on the floor. I kick out and drop my entire weight, knocking my attacker off balance. He lets go and I dive for the book.
But the book is ripped from my grip the second I get my hands around it. I watch, helpless, as it’s hurled into the fire eating at my cabin. Flames swallow the secrets whole. Smoke and the scent of burning leather fill the air.
I’m so consumed with rage I don’t see the Vulture turn back to me until his steel arms lock around me and haul my ass off the floor where I’m sprawled.
Cipher roars and the sound cuts through the chaos like an animal filled with the need to taste blood. I swivel my head in time to see him barrel into the man holding me, knocking him sideways, fists flying. I fall to the floor. Never one to be the damsel in distress, I lay into another Vulture when he tries to come help his buddy beat me into submission. This one is olderand heavier, but surprisingly agile. He locks his sausage fingers around the length of my hair, jerking me to my knees. My head spins. I see Cipher’s face. Blood is smeared across his cheek, a bullet wound blooming red along his shoulder. His eyes find mine, frantic.
The president of the Vultures steps out from the shadows.
“Grudge, you fucker. You always let your men do your dirty work?”
His presence is a black hole, sucking all the air and warmth from the room. He levels a pistol at Cipher, then at me.
“Work smarter, not harder. Time to finish this shit show,” he growls, southern drawl curling around every syllable like poison. “Your man goes first. Then you, sweet thing.”
I fight to my feet, blood in my mouth, defiance burning where fear wants to settle. I glare at Grudge, at the men who think they can end me, end us. Not tonight. Not after everything I’ve clawed my way through.
Cipher’s eyes lock on mine, and in that second I know that if I die, it’ll be fighting beside him. If I live, it’ll be because we were stronger than the storm trying to break us apart.
“Let her go,” Cipher snarls, voice rough as dark smoke over jagged gravel, “and I might leave you with your life.”
Grudge just laughs. “Ain’t no one walkin’ away from this, Savage. Not you. And for sure not her.”
Grudge’s pawn tightens my hair around an unforgiving fist. My world narrows down to the sharp pain, the fury running through my blood, and the thud of my heart reaching for Cipher’s.
And then everything happens at once.
Cipher
Pain roars through my shoulder, hot and savage, each pulse of blood a fresh warning that I’m not immortal. Smoke swirls thick, burning my lungs. Harlow is on her knees, the Vultures’ hands in her hair, a gun pressed to her temple. Rage is a living beast inside me, drowning out the pain, the fear, the noise of gunfire. All I can see is her defiance, fierce and alive.
Mine.
Grudge grins at me, teeth gleaming like a wolf. “Told you, Cipher. Shoulda stayed gone.”
I shift, flex my grip on my weapon. My left arm is heavy, slick with blood, but adrenaline keeps me moving. I scan the room. Two Vultures are down, and there are three still standing. Harlow’s face is set, and she appears defiant even with blood running down her chin. Pride wars with terror inside me.
“I shoulda killed you when I had the chance,” Grudge drawls. “You know what happens now, boy?”
