But the act is perfect.
Chill’s plan is perfect. No way the Bushrangers will suspect an elevator full of Demon Dawgs when they hear the squeals coming from these two. I can see Vandal and the others chomping at the bit to add a few more women to their sick party.
The elevator slows, and the chains above us clank. My hand settles on the grip of my pistol while every muscle in my body tightens with expectation. I’m ready to burst through the door and take out every Bushranger.
The car jerks once, then stops.
Metal scrapes against metal as the outer gate begins to slide.
“We’re here!” Viper laughs again, loud and reckless.
The door slowly opens to reveal all six of the Bushrangers waiting for us. Their eyes land on the women first. Surprise turns to shock as they realize the women aren’t partiers and they aren’t alone.
The elevator door finishes sliding open, and everything explodes.
Chrome moves first.
One second we’re crammed inside the freight elevator, the next we’re pouring out like a pack of wolves. Boots slam against concrete as we surge into the room.
The Bushrangers stumble back in shock. They weren’t expecting this.
Good.
A roar rips out of my chest as I charge the closest one. My fist connects with his jaw before he can even raise his hands. Bone meets bone with a satisfying crack, and he drops like a sack of bricks.
The room erupts into chaos. The Demon Dawgs and the Bushrangers collide. Grunts, curses, and the thud of fists hitting flesh fill the air. Someone crashed into the table they planned to strap Zara to. It skids across the floor with a screech. The fear and anger at the thought of her tied to that table has me roaring out as I search for my prey.
Hunter barrels into two Bushrangers at once, tackling them into the wall. Viper grabs one by the collar and drives her knee into the guy’s gut. Smoke and Arson work together like they’ve done it a thousand times—one distracts while the other lands the knockout punch.
Across the room, Chrome squares off with Vandal.
Their clash is immediate and brutal. Vandal swings first, but Chrome blocks it and answers with a punch that snaps the man’s head sideways.
My attention snaps to movement in front of me. The object of my brutal anger. Menace.
The bastard grins.
“Well, look who came to play.”
Rage burns through my veins.
“You should’ve stayed the hell away from her.”
He lunges.
I duck his first swing and slam my fist into his ribs. I feel something give beneath my knuckles. He grunts but doesn’t go down, coming back with a hook that glances off my shoulder.
We circle each other, boots sliding on the concrete floor. When Menace rushes me again, I’m ready. Grabbing his vest, I yank him forward and drive my forehead into his nose. The room is loud, but I hear the satisfying crunch of cartilage.
Blood explodes down his face as he staggers. I don’t stop. I hammer him with three quick jabs, sending him crashing to the floor.
He’s down and out, so I can scan the room. That’s when I see her. Zara. She’s tied to a chair near the windows, ropes binding her wrists and ankles. Her hair is messy, her eyes wide—but she’s alive.
Relief punches the air from my lungs.
I move toward her, but Izzy is already on there. She saws at Zara’s bindings, releasing her.
“I got her!” she shouts at me.
