I blushed at his words as I hovered my palm over the shining button. “Tell me when.”
I watched Reaper murmur something to himself before he nodded. “Now.”
I slammed my hand into the button and I watched as an explosion temporarily blinded the upper middle screen. My jaw hit the floor as the van rocked on its chassis, and something slammed hard into the side of the van. I cupped my own hand over my mouth to keep from crying out because the last thing we needed was to give away our position. But the second the smoke cleared from the screen, I saw the most beautiful sight in the world.
Bullet’s men screaming and running for their lives.
“This is my favorite part,” Reaper said as he gazed longingly up at the screen. “I absolutely love watching men like them run like lost little children.”
I had to admit, he had a point. Watching those cocky, smug sons of bitches scramble while their screams filtered through the metal sides of the van was like some sort of psychotic balm to my aching soul. I didn’t understand it, and I didn’t try to. All I did was thank my stars that Theresa was safe.
Now, all I had to do was make sure Fangs got out alive.
“So, what decision did you save him from?” Reaper asked.
I snickered. “You know, that’s a damn good question.”
“I didn’t have a good angle on you guys up there at the dock. Couldn’t get a camera planted on the edge of that waterside warehouse.”
My eyes widened. “So, you don’t know.”
He tilted his head. “Know what?”
I cleared my throat and held my head high. “Reaper, it is an honor to inform you that Bullet is dead.”
His face fell. “What?”
I turned my body to face him. “I killed Bullet. He’s gone, Reaper. For good.”
His jaw slowly unhinged. “You killed Bullet? Like, he’s actually dead?”
I nodded. “He’s actually dead.”
He slowly turned back toward the screens and drew in a deep breath before pointing to a yellow button. “On my count.”
I reached out, hovering my hand over it as I stared at the profile of his face. And I could’ve sworn that I saw a hint of tears in his eyes as he tried his best not to smile.
“One. Two. Now!” he commanded.
As I slammed my hand down onto the yellow button, yet another explosion rocked the dock. Bullets rained down, popping off like popcorn in the fucking microwave. One of those bullets slammed into the side of the van, causing me to jump as I held back yet another yelp. Even though it dented the outside of the vehicle, though, it didn’t penetrate. It just sat there, like something frozen in time, while a thunderous sound rose from the smoky cacophony outside. As if the bullet wanted to somehow mark its place in the world before fizzling out like a light.
Like the light that had drifted from Bullet’s gaze before he hit the dock deck.
21
FANGS
As the sound of the van doors slamming closed behind me echoed off the inside of my brain, relief washed over me. It lifted the burden that had dropped down so hard, it almost sank me, and it gave me the ability to focus. Men ran in every single direction before seemingly tripping over their feet and hitting the concrete ground. Blood ran toward the ocean, seeking out its next phase of life as explosion after explosion of smoke bombs rocked the dock. I pulled one gun off my hip and the other off my ankle and held them out on either side of my body. And as I walked back down the dock, explosions followed me all the way to the shipping container.
As men flung themselves at me in an attempt to stop me.
“Oh, no you don’t,” I glowered.
Every single movement I caught out of the corner of my eye caused my trigger finger to react. Something flinched to my left, and my left index finger twitched, causing a bullet to rocket out of its barrel. The man’s body didn’t even hit the damn ground before another movement happened toward my right, and I pivoted the gun in my right hand and pulled the trigger without a second thought.
And one by one, men dropped to the ground, gurgling on their own blood as I grew closer to the shipping container.
“Angel? You got a clock on those black vans they pulled up in?” I asked.
