I got my feet under me and stood. “Hit him again, and I’ll paint that marble with your fucking brains.”
The white-haired guy shifted to look at me as another came out of the shadows, aiming his gun at me before I dropped to the floor. The shot pinged off the metal railing on top of the pony wall, raining debris onto me.
I ducked my head to shield my eyes before popping up and shooting the other guy in the shoulder. I dropped to the floor as two more shots came my way, and when I popped up again, I heard the elevator bell ding on the first floor.
“Down. Down. Down.” I shouted in hope that whoever got off that elevator heard me.
I dared to kneel so I could see over the railing. Dominic and Austin stepped out of the elevator, both with guns drawn.
I saw a guy step from the shadows, so I stood. “Freeze!”
The fucker looked up and aimed his gun at me, but Austin shot him in the thigh, taking him to the floor and stomping on his gun hand until he released the pistol, which Austin kicked away. The sirens were coming close, so I headed to the stairwell to see Sean kneeling on the landing. His hands were over his ears, and I could see he was freaking out.
I left my gun on the step at the top and slowly walked down, kneeling in front of him. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t want to scare you, but I needed you safe. It’s over, I believe. I think we got them.”
He leaped into my arms and wrapped himself around me, sobbing. I got it. He’d never been through anything like that, and it was scary as fuck.
“Shh. I’m here. You’re safe, I promise.”
“Eh, that’s not entirely true.” I glanced up to see a brown-haired woman with a gun pointed at Sean.
“Hey, no. He didn’t do anything. Point that at me,” I encouraged.
The woman cackled like she was out of her mind. “I got no problem killing you, Green Beret. You’re as much of a scourge as him.”
My gun was two steps above my reach. I couldn’t get it without putting Sean in jeopardy. “Who are you?”
“I am a Defender of the Faithful. I am here to destroy Sean Fitzpatrick because he is an instrument of Satan. He will not become a martyr to the cause. He will be exposed as the vile creature he is, leading men down a sick and twisted path. His kind took my husband from his family.”
She hadn’t identified herself, but I didn’t give a fuck. I wanted to shoot the hag in the head, but I needed a diversion. I reached under my pant leg and unlatched my prosthetic as she spouted the same tired Bible verses her kind used as their call to action against the LGBTQ+ community.
“Oh, God told you to do this? To kill Sean? What, you got a hotline to heaven where you get your orders?”
When the woman’s gaze met mine, I shoved Sean out of the way and pulled my fiberglass foot out of the leg of my jeans, tossing it at the bitch’s head. She didn’t see it coming, and when the metal and fiberglass hit her in the face, she pulled the trigger and Sean fell to the ground.
There was blood everywhere. No, it wouldn’t fucking end this way.
Camp Brotherhood
Southern Pines, North Carolina
I rushed to my cousin, Heath, sliding across the hardwood on my knees. He was unconscious, and his breathing was erratic. I turned to Martin Dale. “You’ve got to help him. You don’t want a death on your head. This is my cousin. Call an ambulance.”
Owen Seifert stared at me. “What the fuck was he doing, sneaking around in the woods?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “He was looking for me. He came here with me in case I needed him. He was my emergency contact, and when he didn’t hear from me before dark, he came looking for me.”
Seifert turned to Martin. “What do we do with them?”
Martin paced the cabin. “You fucking... Are you kidding me? This guy is a reporter, and he wants to tell our story. He wants to tell the world what we’re trying to do to support our young men who are under fire by the predators on the left. What the hell is he going to say now? You’ve beaten the shit out of his cousin, Owen. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Seifert turned to Martin. “What’s wrong withme? What the fuck is wrong withyou? You’re giving an interview to a goddamn reporter while Judith and the team are in DC to kill Sean Fitzpatrick? Martin, you’ve lost your mind. We’ve been recruiting for years, and we have branches spreading across the country. We don’t need a goddamn reporter.”
Seifert reached behind his back and pulled a pistol, aiming it at Martin Dale and pulling the trigger before he aimed it at Heath and fired, striking him in the head. I screamed until he turned the gun on me.
“Here’s your headline, faggot.” The next thing I knew, he put the gun to his own head and pulled the trigger, blood and brains exploding out the other side.
People were running and shouting as they headed toward the large cabin where Martin lived. I quickly searched throughHeath’s clothes until I found his phone. I quickly dialed 9-1-1, grateful it was answered so quickly.
