Brooks paces like a caged animal, jaw clenched. “If they don’t move faster, I’m going in alone.”
“Do it, and I swear I’ll snap your goddamn neck,” I growl, stepping beside him.
“Wait—there they are.”
Colt and Ash round the corner. Colt drags his sleeve across his knife, muttering, “Asshole.”
Ash shrugs. “You’re welcome.”
“What the hell took you so long?” I bark.
Colt lets out a dry laugh. “Turns out Ballistic isn’t the only one in this family who lets rage get in the way of logic.”
Ash scoffs. “It’s handled. That’s all that matters.”
I open my mouth to fire back, but Brooks makes a move toward the building. Instinct kicks in—I grab the back of his shirt and yank him back.
“Let me go, damn it!” he growls, shoving my arm off him.
“Wait,” I snap.
He throws me a murderous glare before shaking me off. “I said wait,” I bark again, then pivot back to Colt. “What the fuck happened?”
Colt gestures toward Ash. “This lunatic decided to choke the guy with his bare hands. Took forever. Thought he was gonna serenade the bastard while he was at it.”
Ash slams a fist into Colt’s ribs, and Colt doubles over with a grunt.
“Fucking hell,” Colt wheezes. “You’re such a jackass.”
“And yet you’re still alive,” Ash mutters.
I roll my eyes. “Jesus. Morons.”
Brooks is already crossing the street. I jog after him, muttering curses under my breath. Behind me, the bickering duo follows.
At the door, I reach for my Glock, but it’s pointless—Brooks is already ahead, crouched by the elevator. He slashes the second guard’s throat with terrifying ease and storms toward the stairwell without glancing back.
“Shit,” I mutter, chasing after him.
I whirl around to the others. “Get that body out of sight. Now.”
As I spin back, Brooks is at the foot of the stairs, knives clenched tight in both fists, muscles trembling with barely restrained fury.
“Which floor, Kyler?” His voice is low, cracking under the weight of what’s to come. “Because if anyone stands in my way, they’re done.”
I look to Colt and Pax, panic rising in my throat.
“Sixth,” Pax says, voice hard as stone. “Go. Cut him to pieces. We’ve got you.”
Before anyone else can say anything, Brooks jogs to the stairs and we follow him.
We climb steadily, our footsteps quiet and deliberate. The stairwell is quiet, each step drawing us closer to the sixth floor. A shadow moves—someone’s standing just around the bend. Brooks lifts a finger to his lips, eyes locked on the target, then tightens his grip on his knife.
He inches forward, smooth and silent. I raise my gun, but the bastard’s only showing a sliver of his leg. I aim for the knee—if this goes sideways, I’ll blow his kneecap to hell.
I glance at Brooks, now nearly flat against the landing. His head pops up, arm sliding back in preparation. I hold my breath, finger on the trigger.
The man drops with a grunt, Brooks’ blade buried deep in his thigh. Before the guy even knows what hit him, Brooks is on top of him, his other knife slashing across the throat in one swift, brutal motion.
