Page 67 of Princes of Carnage

Atlas pushes the door open, his gaze sweeping over us.

I can only imagine what he sees, and I fight the urge to cover myself. When he saw me downstairs last night, I had thrown on shorts and a tank top, but I stripped everything off before getting back into bed with Nico—who’s also naked. It’s not like Atlas doesn’t know that we fucked, but the scene he just walked in on leaves nothing to the imagination.

Other than a tightening of his jaw, he doesn’t say anything about it though. Instead, he lets his focus slide to Nico, his expression serious.

“Shit is going down,” he declares.

That shakes the last of the sleepiness out of me, and I’m instantly on alert. “What is it?” I ask. “The attacker?”

“No. Our gangs are going at it. A fight broke out, and it’s bad.”

“Fuck,” I curse with feeling, almost at the same time that Nico does.

“I thought we made ourselves clear,” Nico grunts.

Atlas shrugs, cracking his inked fingers. “Not clear enough, apparently.”

Nico and I both get up and grab our clothes, tugging them on quickly so that we can go deal with this shit. Nico goes downstairs first, taking Atlas with him, and I follow behind a few minutes later, dressed and ready.

“Do we know anything else?” I ask as I meet them downstairs. Killian is there too, all three of them standing in a tight huddle.

Atlas glances at me and then away. His jaw is still stiff, and whatever camaraderie I thought the two of us had last night as we sat on the couch together under the flickering light of the television, it seems to be gone now, almost like I fucking dreamed it. In the cool light of morning, he appears to hate me more than ever.

“Not much,” he finally answers, as if he’d rather be talking to anyone but me. “Just that a fight broke out, and it seems like people were only too eager to jump into it.”

I growl under my breath, irritated with all of this. “Who started it?”

It’s half rhetorical, but Atlas lifts an eyebrow and then looks away from me, as if he’s not going to dignify that question with an answer.

“We’ll find out when we get there,” Nico says, jerking his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”

We leave the house and get on our bikes, tearing out of the neighborhood and riding to the location of the fight. Atlas is in the lead, and we all follow, tearing down the quiet, pre-dawn streets. It’s closing in on five in the morning, so there aren’t many people awake to see us riding in a line at top speed. The few people who are commuting to work or whatever get out of our way on the road, giving us a wide berth.

Finally we pull off the main drag and down a shitty little side street, weaving around pot holes that will probably never be fixed and broken-down cars that have already had all their useful parts stripped out.

Even over the roar of the bikes, I can hear the fight before I see it—the yelling and jeering of a crowd of people. The men can clearly hear it too, because they kick their speed up a notch, and I follow suit.

Seconds later, we pull up outside what looks like a bar. It’s rough and seedy, with grimy windows and half broken fluorescent signs hanging in the windows. There are people spilling out of the open door, shouts and grunts rising up as a massive brawl plays out in the street. From what I can tell, it looks like it was a late night of drinking that turned into a bunch of bad decisions and re-awakened grudges. Which then led to this mess.

We cut our engines and get off the bikes, barely trading glances as we wade into the fray.

Most of the people around the fringes of the action are just egging it on, and as we shove our way through that, we can see the tangled knot of the actual fight. People brawling in twos and threes and larger groups. Some on the ground, some upright, but chaos either way.

I wrench two people apart, recognizing one of my own gang members who was trying to keep a member of Carnage in a headlock.

I give him a furious glare, and I’m gratified to see him wither a little.

“Oh, shit,” he mutters. “Boss, I—”

“Fucking save it,” I snap.

Around me, people seem to be realizing what’s happening. That the leaders of both gangs have shown up and are pissed the hell off.

I see Killian practically rip people away from each other, shoving them to either side of the crowd of people with his lips set in a hard line.

Atlas is reading two people the riot act a bit away, and Nico stands somewhere in the middle, his eyes sweeping over it all like he’s taking it in.

“With me!” I shout, letting my voice carry over the lingering sounds of chaos. All of my people snap out of their rage at that and start falling in line, coming over to me.

---