Marcus ran to the window in a panic and glanced out.
Outside, the attack continued. Men were shooting, and bodies were falling.
They took him!Marcus thought to himself. He glancedaround at the chaos but couldn’t see his black head of sunshine anywhere.
His stomach dropped as his mind started racing.
Who knows what kind of sick and twisted things whoever these guys were had planned for the young man he’d spent weeks protecting?
Anger and nausea flooded his system.
One thing was certain: He was going to take his time murdering whoever broke into his house and kidnapped the one man who had taken hold of his heart.
“Marcus!” Ace shouted once again.
More gunfire erupted.
These men were dead.
Running to the closet, Marcus grabbed the second assault rifle he hadn’t had a chance to grab earlier.
Eye’s narrowing, he ground his teeth. It was time to blow off some fucking heads.
Anger fueling his muscles, Marcus ran into the hallway to take out his revenge.
Forgetting that he was human and not a muscle-clad superhero, Marcus leaped over the banister and landed on the hardwood floor of his living room below.
He had to admit that the move was fucking awesome. Too bad the rest of the guys weren’t there to see it. Perhaps he could show them the security feeds later on.
Marcus opened fire, taking out two surprised men, before diving behind the sofa, which was nothing more than shattered wood and floating fabric.
“Marcus, behind you!” Blade shouted from the kitchen doorway as he threw two blades at a man approaching Marcus from the other side of the sofa.
The blades found their mark—one striking the man in the chest, the other his eye. His body convulsed before collapsing to the floor, blood spreading quickly beneath him.
Blade was a killer shot. He’d been trained by the best—his father, who also tried to kill him—and he never missed.
“Nice shot.” Marcus jumped to his feet, then jogged over to where Ace and Blade were waiting.
“Where’s Gavin?” Ace asked, glancing around the room.
“They took him,” Marcus growled, pissed and ready to pull apart some limbs. “Where are the others?”
“Outside, cleaning up the garbage,” Blade answered, walking over to the man lying dead in the living room and pulling his blade free from his eye. He wiped the man’s blood and brain matter on the thigh of his jeans.
He didn’t seem to care that he was now walking around with someone’s DNA and probably last thoughts smeared all over the surface of his leg.
“They couldn’t have gotten far with Gavin. I only left him alone for ten minutes. Let’s go,” Marcus said, rushing toward the front door and leaping over two bodies whose faces were now splattered across the stone walkway.
God. He’d have to pressure wash his home just to wash away the remnants of a failed murder attempt.
Fuck!
Outside, the world around him was at war. Caden, Nikolai, and Jake were crouched behind trees, shooting at men approaching from the east.
Across the yard, Midas drove his fists into a man with brutal force. Blood and spit stained his knuckles as a maddened smile spread across his face. There was no hesitation in him, no restraint. Some men were born for chaos and violence. Midas was one of those men.
To his left, Marcus heard shouting. His head snapped to the side just in time to see a massive stream of fire lighting up much of his front yard.
