He nods toward the warehouse, the one we just unloaded last week. “They’re inside.”
The vein in his neck is bulging, twitching beneath his collar like it’s ready to snap. He rolls his neck side to side, cracking it like a warning.
“Well,” I mutter, glancing at Kaden, then at the boys behind me. “Let’s clean up the mess.”
Declan’s crew fans out toward the front entrance. My men, six in total, peel off behind the building. John and Doyle take the side like they’ve done it a hundred times before.
“Ready?” Declan asks.
I smirk. “Always.”
He slams his boot into the metal door; it swings open with a shriek. The world explodes.
Gunfire erupts like thunder inside a coffin. The steel walls catch every shot, bouncing the sound until it feels like war.
They’re outnumbered, but not outgunned.
“Russian steel!” John yells, ducking behind a stack of crates.
Fucking AKs. I feel the bite of a round zip past my ribs as I dive behind a container, Doyle sliding in beside me. Kaden’s already moved; two shots fired, one man down.
I pivot, my Glock raised, firing at the flash of a muzzle behind a forklift. Blood sprays. Another body drops.
Smoke curls. Shouts echo. I can barely hear my own thoughts over the cacophony of war.
There is movement.
One of them breaks from cover, charging straight at me, gun raised. I try to pivot, but I’m boxed in, with metal behind me, crates to the side. No exit. No angle.
The muzzle lifts.
Shit.
A single shot cracks from the right.
The man stumbles mid-step, his neck jerks, a red bloom erupting just beneath his ear. He drops to his knees, gurgling, then faceplants in his own blood.
Doyle stands behind him, gun still smoking. Silent. Steady. Eyes sharp like he’s waiting to be useful again.
I nod once. “Thanks, kid.”
He doesn’t smile. Just watches me like he wants to prove something.
Declan stands beside a steel container, chest heaving, the veins on his forearms raised like cables. I move in beside him, gun still warm in my hand.
“Kid’s got more balls than Flanaghan,” I mutter.
Declan’s mouth curves. “Aye. Flanaghan pretended to go in but never left the side door. Eejit.”
“Dead weight.”
We lift our guns in the same heartbeat. Two shots from me, one from him; three men hit the ground. The air goes silent but for the metallic drip of blood pooling on concrete.
Kaden steps up, boots splashing through it, when a low groan breaks the quiet. One of them’s still breathing. Declan moves first. I follow, ready to drag answers out of the bastard, but before we reach him, a gunshot cracks.
“Wait—!” Declan roars.
Too late. The body jerks once, then stills.
