Page 298 of Forged in the Fire


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Concealed and on my back, I eased out enough so I could take a shot at the sniper who was frantically looking over the side for his next target.

He should have known the target was him.

I pulled the trigger, and his body spasmed as he was struck in the neck.

He toppled off the roof, asshole doing two flips as he plunged to the ground.

Body a mangled bow when he hit the cement beneath.

Shots were being fired everywhere.

Shouts and screams and commands echoing through the air.

Dread twisted through me. Fear that any one of my men might be among the anguished moans.

Trevan was tucked low, his back pressed to a shadowy side of the truck I was underneath.

“You good?” he wheezed.

“Yeah. We need to get inside that building.”

“Count of three, and I cover you,” he said.

He didn’t give me a chance to reject it. He simply pushed his hand low, ticking off his fingers.

One.

Two.

Three.

He swung out from behind the truck just as I rolled onto my feet, guns in both his hands firing in every direction while I kept low and ran for the side door.

It was the spot Cash had believed might be the easiest access point from the ground floor. He didn’t think we’d have the chance to make it to the roof and cut our way in the way he did when he came for Elena.

That position would only make us more vulnerable.

Movement suddenly whispered from my right, and I whirled.

A man dressed in all black emerged from the shadows.

Grin on his smug mouth as he lifted his gun like he thought he had me trapped.

Fucker didn’t have a chance before mine was going off.

The sneer on his face imploded, body blown back ten feet.

A gush of air rushed from my lungs, a fucking river of sweat pouring down my spine, my heart rate manic as I turned back to the door.

I crouched low as I pulled out the tools stuffed in my back pocket, my fingers adept as I quickly picked two locks.

I could feel the terror radiating out. The same sense I’d gotten all those years ago when I’d slipped into that vacant, decayed house.

The mayhem of that warm spirit calling out.

Brinley.

Brinley.