Page 155 of Princes of Carnage

49

QUINN

It feels like someone punched me with a metal fist.

I let out a pained grunt as a bullet lodges in my upper arm, the echo of the gunshot still ringing in the air. It hurts like a motherfucker, and I stagger a little, shock and pain filling me.

My head swims, and I can’t tell where the shot came from. Did Atlas or Killian shoot me to keep me from taking out Nico? It would make sense. That’s their job, after all, and since we’re apparently giving up the facade that this means anything anymore, maybe they took the shot.

But then I hear Atlas’s voice call out, “Fuck! There’s a shooter. Get to cover!”

“Shit!” Nico curses hotly.

All four of us scramble for cover as more shots ring out. My heart is thudding in my chest, my adrenaline high—which is good, because for the moment it’s dulling the pain in my arm.

I crouch low, peering into the darkness as I press my hand over my wounded arm to stanch the bleeding. I dropped my gun when I was shot, so I’m weaponless, which makes me feel like a sitting duck. The clubhouse is still on fire, and there’s not much in the way of cover without getting too close to the blazing building.

A bullet whizzes by me, and I whip my head toward the source, trying to see who the fuck is shooting at us. I can hear the Princes calling out to each other, but I can’t see them. My night vision is fucked from the light of the burning clubhouse nearby.

“Behind you!” someone shouts—Nico, I think.

“Motherfucker,” Killian grunts.

There are more gunshots, and then the sound of return fire and more shouting.

My ears are ringing from it, but even still, my breathing is loud in my head as I move away from the blaze and the chaos in the dark, staying low. The fire is so bright that it makes it almost impossible for my eyes to adjust to the inky blackness away from it.

I hear another round of gunshots, and then all of a sudden, things get quieter. My heart thuds as I glance over my shoulder, but I still can’t see shit. I keep picking my way through the darkness away from the blaze, trying to find something to duck behind so I can get my bearings and figure out my next move.

There’s a wooded area not far from the Carnage clubhouse, and as I dart toward the tree line, someone slams into me, wrapping their arms around me.

“Shit!” I hiss.

At first, I think it’s Killian, but the grip is all wrong, and I don’t recognize his scent. It’s not him or either of the other Princes. Ignoring the pain in my arm, I buck against the tight hold, snapping my head back. I connect with some part of my captor’s face, and he grunts and releases me—but as I slip out of his grasp, he grabs for my hair, wrenching me backward.

“Ahh!” I hiss out a breath as pain spreads across my scalp.

Instead of pulling against his hold on my hair, I twist and duck under his arm, doubling back toward him. I jab an elbow into his solar plexus, eliciting another rough grunt from him. He stumbles back half a step, and as I break his hold on my hair, the light of the fire flickers across his face.

We’re far enough away from the building that his features are half cast in shadow, but I can make out buzzed blond hair and a scar across his cheek.

It’s Silas.

“Motherfucker,” I spit, just in time for him to lunge at me again.

I’m more prepared for it this time, fighting him off as best as I can. Raw adrenaline is carrying me, making it easy to block out everything else and focus on evading Silas’s jabs and hits. He gets his arm around me again and tries to put me in a headlock, but I’m faster, slipping out of his grasp and punching him in the face.

“Bitch,” he snarls, advancing on me again.

I duck, trying to sweep his legs out from under him, but he moves too quickly. When I pop back up, he’s on me, grabbing me around the middle and digging his fingers into my arm.

He finds the spot where I was shot, working his fingers into the hole where the bullet is still lodged, and pain lances up my arm, burning through the haze of adrenaline that kept me from really feeling the wound before now. I cry out in agony, stumbling as the pain takes over.

That’s all the opening Silas needs. He punches me hard in the back of the head, and I reel from it, dazed. Stars burst in the darkness, and for a sickening moment, I think I might throw up.

Silas pins my arms behind me, shoving the barrel of a gun against my ribs.

“Fucking move,” he orders, pushing me forward. “Come on.”

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