Page 4 of When Kings Fall

Chaos erupted then, roars and threats spilling forth.

I launched myself at the now injured guy, ripped my knife out of his chest, then slammed my boot into his gut.

The power behind it blew him down the stairs into one of his asshole buddies on the way up behind him and he crumpled into a heap on the landing below.

Another two leapt over them and came at me.

A roundhouse kick that clocked one across the side of the head and had him stumbling back into the wall with a nasty thud took care of one of them, buying me a little bit of time to deal with the other.

He tried to land a punch to the underside of my jaw, but I deflected it easily. His eyes flashed and he tried harder, now realizing what they were dealing with.

That rush that took me when I was street fighting was more intense this time, more raw, because of the stakes involved.

And it fueled everything.

Every move I made, every decision to be absolutely brutal.

Before I knew it, I was beating the motherfucker into the concrete with punch after punch, destroying his face.

As another bolted up the stairs to assist, I snatched his wrist, twisted it mercilessly until I heard that telltale crack and his satisfying cry of pain, then I used it to force him around, wherein I smashed my boot into the back of his knee. As he went down, hitting step after concrete step painfully, the impact knocked him out.

I wrenched the shoulder of another, dislocating it and making him scream.

The fourth came at me and I dodged his blow, then fisted his hair and used the leverage to smash his face into the banister and knock him out cold too.

The two remaining tried to move in to take me together, but as one made his move to snag me, I used it against him and reacted, turning it around and forcing him into a sleeper hold.

I kicked back his buddy and as he staggered down two steps and jarred against the wall, I tossed my blade. He shrieked as it drove through his palm and pinned him to the wall.

The guy in my hold went limp and I released him roughly, watching as he fell into a heap like a ragdoll.

Before I could put the pinned guy out, a whizzing sounded and a tranq embedded in his throat.

He slapped his free hand to it, then Mason was there ripping the knife from his palm. His scream was cut off as he passed out and hit the stairs hard.

I stepped back, wiping sweat off my brow.

“A little slow on the timing, brother.”

“Did the best I could with the short notice.”

His eyes darted all over at the four guys. “They’re all still alive.”

“For you. You made it clear you didn’t want the mess.”

“And major complications, Lev.”

“Sure, that.” As far as I was concerned, they deserved death for coming at our woman. But Mason and I had a deal, one she had gone to great efforts to broker.

“All right, you deal with this. Call in Hex and have these shits transported far from Stonewell. I’ll get Colt up to speed and keep an eye on Brianna.”

“Yeah,” I murmured. “Go. Watch her. Closely, Mason.”

“Got it.”

“No,” I said, grasping his arm. “Do whatever it takes.”

“I will,” he vowed. He laid his hand on my shoulder. “We’ve got her, brother. She’s ours now and we’ll protect her as ours.”

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