“Always,” he replies and saunters across the street before disappearing behind a house.
You can take the man out of the military, but you can’t take the military out of the man.
“We go in hot and heavy.” Zeus drops an open duffel bag full of MAC-10s at his feet. “The bullets keep flying until every last Disciple in that house is dead.”
“Fuck yeah.” Snake grins, arming himself with one of the machine guns. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
The other brothers follow suit, echoing his excitement.
I grab a weapon too, relishing the feel of it in my hands. “What about the rest of them? We need to kill them all.”
I won’t rest until every last Disciple is ash.
“We will,” Zeus states with grim determination. “No matter how long it takes.”
“Clear,” Jigsaw announces, rejoining the group. “Thirteen bikes are parked in the alley out back. We can assume there’s at least that many of those fuckers inside.”
“Let’s show these bastards you don’t fuck with the Gods,” Draco growls.
“At my whistle, we go in and light ’em up,” Zeus says.
We split up to cover both entry points into the house. I lick my lips in anticipation, the prospect of killing Disciples lighting a fire in my blood.
Zeus lets out a sharp whistle, then kicks the front door open with one booted foot. We bound into the house behind him, our weapons drawn and ready. It’s a fucking pigsty in here.
“Motherfucker!” a man roars, reaching for a gun on the coffee table.
Zeus pumps him and the man beside him on the sofa full of lead. The rat fucks sitting at a table in the back corner scatter. Two run for an alcove to the left and the other three bolt for a doorway to the right.
Shouts and rapid gunfire rip through the house. The brothers fan out, taking cover wherever they can. I dive in front of the sofa with Cricket and Smokey, bullets flying all around us.
I shoot at the men sheltered in the alcove, ducking every few seconds to avoid their return fire.
“Fuck!” Cricket yells. “The stairs! Shoot those motherfuckers!”
He’s hit. Blood pours from a gaping hole in his shoulder. I flip the coffee table, using it as a shield between us and the deadly projectiles. We unleash a hail of ammunition toward our targets, dropping two. The rest haul ass back upstairs.
“Shit,” Cricket hisses through gritted teeth. “Hurts like a son of a bitch.”
“Want me to kiss it and make it better?” I quip, digging a clip out of my cut pocket and reloading my MAC-10.
“Gee, would you, Mom?” he deadpans.
“Later. I got some Disciples to kill first.” I make a run for the stairs, squeezing off rounds along the way.
I reach the landing intact and scan my surroundings for immediate danger. Five doors—two open, three closed.Fuck.My thirst for vengeance clouded my common sense. I can’t cover this floor alone. I’d take my chances if I didn’t have Zilphia and a baby on the way.
“You got a death wish, asshole?” Cricket grumbles from behind me.
I smirk and glance over my shoulder. My day one, Snake, and Smokey creep up the stairs, locked and loaded.
“Glad you could join me.”
He flips me the bird, and I chuckle. They mimic my position, crouching beside me on the landing, gazes sweeping over the cluttered hallway.
“And where the fuck you been, little brother? Out back smelling the daisies while we were in here doing all the killing?”
Snake scoffs and, following my best friend’s lead, extends his middle finger at me. “Whatever. The back of the house was thick with Disciples. Definitely way more than thirteen of those fucks in the house,” he adds. “How many up here?”
