Bishop drops the first guy before he even has time to turn, the man hitting the dirt with a wet thud. I move at the same time, stepping out from cover and squeezing the trigger.
One shot. Two. The guard by the truck jerks back, collapsing against the door.
“Contact!” someone shouts, too fucking late.
Diesel moves like a ghost beside me, controlled bursts taking down another before he can even raise his weapon.
Return fire lights up the trees. Bullets rip through bark, splinters flying.
I duck behind a thick trunk, feeling the impact thud inches from my shoulder.
“Left side!” Rook yells.
“I see him.”
I lean out just enough—spot the muzzle flash—and fire.
The shooter drops.
Silence hits for half a second, then the cabin door bursts open.
Three more men spill out, guns blazing.
“Jesus, how many fuckin’ clowns did he hire?” Diesel growls.
“Not enough,” I answer, stepping forward.
Adrenaline floods my system, sharp and clean.
This is familiar. Too familiar.
The rest of the Sinners bear down on the goons on the porch, coming out of the forest from both sides of the cabin.
I advance with Bishop on my flank, both of us firing in controlled rhythm. One of the men goes down clutching his gut, another takes a round straight to the chest.
The last one turns to run, and Riot nails him in the back before he makes it two steps.
Then there’s just the ringing in my ears and the smell of gunpowder hanging thick in the air.
I scan the perimeter, gun still raised.
“Everyone good?” I call.
“Good,” Riot answers.
“Clear,” Bishop confirms after a beat.
I nod once, then jerk my chin toward the cabin.
“Let’s go get the traitor. Diesel, with me. Everyone else, make sure there are no surprises around.”
“You got it, Prez,” Ace answers.
“Make him pay,” Gunner adds.
The porch creaks under our boots as we move up. Door’s hanging half open. Lights still on inside. I push it wider with the barrel of my gun.
“Switchback!” Bishop calls out, voice like thunder. “You better be alive, you piece of shit!”
