Lights out.
Done.
It wasover. For real. The fight around me died, fading like the end of a fireworks display. Like mist fading over the ocean.
Viktor.
I spun around, the bleak landscape blurring as I searched for him. Searched and searched and searched. Then I found him fifty feet away, scraping stray bullets from the ground, before he was in motion again, too fast and furious for me to keep track of.
He hurled the bullets in Jake’s face the same moment Alexei came up on Cam and shoved him hard enough to send him staggering back.
“Ublyudok,” Alexei spat. “Mne by khotelos’ ne lyubit’ tebya.”
Some things didn’t need translating. I saw the same rage in Vik as he cussed out his brother, and deep down, I knew why, I understood, and I looked for Saint to check on him, even as I sank to one knee, bracing myself on the cold ground, pressure building in my throbbing head.
I couldn’t find him. I couldn’tsee, black spots dancing in my vision, a crack of pain splintering my skull. A savage blow that drove all thoughts of Saint from my brain.
“Vik.”
The single syllable broke me. Footsteps boomed. Hands grabbed me. Too slow. Too late.
I was gone.
[ 29 ]
VIKTOR
They had duped us.
Cam and Jake.
Tricked Alexei with ghost screens and fake hacks and sent us hurtling in the wrong direction, to the smallest fight while they’d run headlong into the worst.
I had never been so angry, but as Ranger went down and he did not get up, there was nothing in my soul but raw panic.
Saint got to him first.
I skidded to a stop beside them and pushed him away, easing Ranger onto his back.
His face was hidden by his mask. I ripped it off and held his head in my bloodied hands. His eyes rolled. I was losing him.
Cam reached us. “Is he hit?”
I did not know. Saint searched Ranger’s body. I scanned his head and neck and found the gash above his ear and the swelling forming beneath it. “Here. Impact, not bullet.”
“Fuck.” Cam called Ranger’s name. Tapped his face. “Get the van.”
Saint melted away. In my peripheral, I was faintly aware of Jake and Alexei dashing between bodies, but I did not care.
I bent low over Ranger, checking his pulse, his breathing. “Asher. Wake up.”
Ranger groaned, retching. We rolled him, but he did not vomit.
And he did not wake up.
“He needs help.” Cam stated the obvious. “He’s had two concussions this year already.”
I remembered the bruises he’d brought to the island. I remembered hisblood, more than a year ago, that he’d spilt at this very port and carried back to my Leeds flat.
