Page 68 of They Will Burn

“She’s going to be okay,” Bishop tells us, but I think he’s trying to convince himself just as much as he is us.

We’re about a minute out from the safe house, and every mile closer we get brings more and more uncertainty.

We have no fucking clue what we’re walking into. No idea how many men have infiltrated the safe house. And no idea if Crew and Camilla are safe.

The sight of smoke on the next block does nothing to settle the raging panic beating through the car, and the brakes protest as I slam the car into park, and each of us throws ourselves from the car the second we pull up in the back alley.

I take a second to survey the area and notice a black van up the street a little, and the blown out door. This is the way they came in.

Kovu and Bishop are already through the door, and I hear their stifled coughs as I push through the apartment.

There are a few small fires, but nothing that’s going to get out of hand in the time it takes us to remove the trash and get Crew and Camilla to safety.

The smoke clears the further we get into the apartment, and when a man rounds the corner of the hallway, his back to us, Bishop pops off two shots into his back that he never sees coming.

There’s more gunfire coming from the bedroom, and my stomach lurches when I hear Crew grunt in pain.

Fuck.

“No!” Camilla screams, and the three of us take off down the hallway, but I’m not prepared for what we find when we step into the bedroom.

There’s three men on the ground, all of whom have been shot in the chest if the pools of blood are anything to go by. Crew’s body is laid out on the floor, unmoving, and Camilla’s crouching over him, a gun in one hand and her other pressed into the center of his chest.

Her dark hair is stained with blood, and she sways slightly as her eyes dart around for more danger, but then they settle on us, and her entire body crumples over Crew’s. “We have to help him,” she sobs.

Bishop drops down beside her and pries the gun from her hand. “It’s okay, love. You did so good.” His words are calm and encouraging, but his entire body is rigid as he stares down at his unmoving father.

Her body trembles as she collapses on top of him, both hands pressed against his chest with blood pooling over her skin, but I’m rooted in place.

Instead of seeing my uncle lying motionless on the ground, all I can see is my own father.

I laugh as I walk into the compound, Bishop on my heels, as we make our way back from a job. After an earth-shattering night with Bianca, getting up for work felt hard for both of us, but we both acknowledged that the sooner we got the hit over and done with, the quicker we could come back to her.

When my dad brought her into the fold for the four of us to share, I was uncertain to begin with, but I was the first to fall for her.

Her sleek black hair and bright green eyes were hard to ignore, and the fact she takes everything we give her without complaint definitely helps too.

It takes a special kind of woman to handle the four of us, and she does it without complaint.

Bishop and Kovu weren’t sure about her to begin with, but they came around eventually, and for the last few months, things have been perfect. Or as close to perfect as things can be for the men who rule the city’s underworld.

The other thing that has changed recently is that the five families have finally fallen into routine with us at the top of the food chain. It only took them three fucking years, but we’re finally there, and it feels like things have fallen into place.

The sound of gunfire fills the compound, and Bishop and I spare each other a glance before we take off into a sprint toward the stairs.

There’s no reason for a gun to be fired within the compound, especially when no one in the city knows where we are. We’ve kept our home a secret since we first built it, and as far as I know, nothing has changed, but maybe I’m wrong. Maybe one of us was followed.

Bianca.

The thought of her spread out naked between my sheets this morning fills my mind, and I push myself harder, needing to know she’s okay.

By the time we reach the top level where the bedrooms are located, our heads are swiveling, trying to work out where the fuck the sound came from, but then I hear her scream, and fear seizes my chest.

We sprint to the end of the hall. My father’s bedroom that he rarely uses has the door wide open, and when we come to a stop a few feet into the room, my entire body screams at me to move, to do something, but I’m locked in place, like I’m on the outside looking in on the fucked-up situation.

My dad is on the ground, his body still and unmoving, but the blood. Fuck, there’s so much of it, I can’t even tell where his wounds are.

Bianca kneels on the floor beside him, a knife clutched in one hand as she holds the other up in surrender. “You don’t understand,” she pleads with Crew, who stares down at her with pure rage. His mismatched eyes hold all the anger I feel beating down on me.

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