I blink. Oh right. FuckingJerriof all people just saved my ass.
I scurry over to her and, with the help of Tobias, heft the dead body off her. She lies in the mud, covered in blood, and scowls up at me.
“This changesnothingbetween us,” she hisses as she peels herself off the ground. “In fact, I’m already regretting it.”
I bite back a snort. Well, good to know she didn’t suffer any brain damage or suddenly have a personality transplant. I can only deal with so much shit right now.
“Don’t worry, I won’t invite you over to my next sleepover,” I say drily, not bothering to help her stand. I wouldn’t have before, and I won’t start now.
“And now my clothes are ruined,” she whines as she glances down at her blood-soaked coat and mud-caked jeans.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes and glance around. Flames engulf the house as tendrils of smoke billow out from smashed windows to fill the sky with black smog. The stench of burning wood, plastic and petrol choke the air, and I just know our clothes are going to stink fordays. In the shadows, I can see Scourge gang members skulking around, a reminder that the threat is still here.
We need to move.
And then I hear something that makes my heart stop and my breath catch; a pained yelp that can only belong to one person.
Rhys.
Devastation
Theo
The Scourge come atus thick and fast.
It’s chaos as men scream and shout, the stench of blood and smoke choking the air while the house continues to burn beside us. Our only saving grace is that most of the Scourge scum don’t have any guns, meaning we’re able to pick some of them off with a well-placed bullet to their heads.
Doesn’t stop one fucker from barrelling into me from the side, throwing off my shot at another. The two of us crash into the mud and grass beneath our feet, the impact jarring my arm and causing my gun to slip from my hand. I curse as I scramble to find it, but the asshole who tackled me doesn’t let me and slams his fist into the side of my head.
Pain burst across my skull, and I grunt as I flop back into the mud, dazed. Another fist slams into my ribs, and my grunt turns into a pained wheeze.Motherfucker,does he hit like a train.
The Scourge asshole laughs, the sound like rusty nails on a chalkboard. “Not so tough now, huh, pretty boy?” he spits.
He thinks I’m pretty?
I know my brain isn’t operating on all cylinders whenthat’smy first thought. Thankfully, my second is much more reasonable;time to make the asshole bleed.
I jerk my head forward and crash my forehead into his nose. The Scourge member cries out as blood bursts from his mangled nose, and he falls back while clutching his face. Using that to my advantage, I whip out my knife and, with a savage grin, slice it across his throat. The asshole dies gurgling in a pool of his own blood.
Unfortunately, I don’t have time to admire my handiwork before I’m attacked again. This time the guy has a cricket bat wrapped in barbed wire and he swings it towards me with wild abandon. My training kicks in just in time for me to duck as it flies towards my face, the bat so close that one barb brushes against my cheek. As the guy recovers from the swing to attack again, I leap forward and grapple him into the mud.
He grunts as his back collides with the ground, and his hand loosens on his bat. That doesn’t stop him from trying to attack me with it, but a grab and twist of his wrist has him crying out and dropping it. With him unarmed, I drag my blade across his neck and leave him to die.
Staggering to my feet, I glance around to check on everyone.
The battle is bloody and chaotic, with both sides resorting to fists and melee weapons to kill and maim. Ollie and Rachel are gone, but distant gunshots and the whistle of arrows along with flashes of their hair reassures me they’re both okay for now. Alex is engaged in a brutal fist fight between him and two other Scourge. They’re covered in gore and mud, but it’s obvious the Scourge are losing from how feeble and tired they are compared to Alex, who looks like a vengeful god from Norse mythology.
Rhys uses his knife to cut down enemies with the ruthless efficiency the military trained him with. Every slice and stab is precise, and everymove is calculated, almost like a dance. If you ignore the blood, screams and death.
Unfortunately, Rhys is so intent on destroying the enemies in front of him, he doesn’t notice the guy creeping up on him.
My eyes widen. “Behind, Rhys!” I shout as I scramble towards them.
Rhys turns, but it’s too late.
The bastard slams his fist into Rhys’s injured shoulder, causing the ex-SAS officer to holler in pain and stagger mid-strike. The guy he was about to execute uses that to his advantage, slicing at Rhys with a rust-covered machete. Luckily, Rhys ducks at the last second but slips on the slick mud and grass and loses his balance. This gives the first guy the chance to punch him again, this time in his ribs.
Rhys grunts as he goes down, his training only just saving him from falling awkwardly, but he’s too slow to get back up. Machete guy goes for another strike, but I tackle the prick before he can swing. The two of us slide through the mud, the guy beneath me gasping and groaning. At first, I think it’s from the fall until I see blood pooling around him.
