Page 31 of Twisted Thorns

Sloane just rolls her eyes and cuts her brother off, “We don’t have time for this, we need to go.”

“Agreed.” I nod. “She’s an asset, Finn. Get with the program.”

The cold night air bites at my skin as we approach the nondescript warehouse, a shadow against the even darker sky. I can feel the weight of the situation pressing down on me like a physical force. Liam's tense presence to my right is a silent testament to the gravity of what we're about to do.

Finn leads the way, his muscular form barely visible in the dim light, with Liam and I flanking him like shadows tethered to his purpose.

"Remember, Sloane's got eyes on us," Finn whispers gruffly, his red hair like a beacon in the moonlight. He glances up at the rooftop where Sloane, ever the protector despite her father's archaic views, lies in wait with her rifle.

We move closer, our steps barely making a sound on the rough concrete. My heart thrums in my chest, a rhythmic drumming that echoes the danger and the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Finn pauses, his hand going up, and we halt in unison. My heart pounds against my ribs, a relentless drum urging us forward.

"Shit, there they are," Liam hisses, his blue eyes sharp under the faint light of a distant streetlamp.

Through a crack in the warehouse door, I see it—the stark reality of Sean O'Neil's empire. Men, little more than shadows themselves, shuffle girls onto a truck like cattle to slaughter. Anger flares within me, hot and potent. These women and girls deserve freedom, not a life in chains.

"We have to stop that truck," I murmur, feeling the familiar burn of responsibility ignite within me. Avalina's face flashes in my mind, her independence and fire fueling my resolve. She wouldn't stand for this; neither will I.

Finn nods, his muscular frame tensed for action. "We move on three," Finn whispers, the ghosts of countless past transgressions etched into the lines of his face. He is more than Sean's son tonight; he is a savior in the making, a man hell-bent on retribution.

The count tickled my ears, and we surged forward as one. We had to stop that truck, liberate the innocents before they vanished into the night, swallowed by a world that would consume them whole. Every muscle in my body tensed, ready for the conflict ahead.

And so we advanced, silent avengers beneath the cloak of night, driven by a singular, burning purpose—to save those who could not save themselves.

With purpose, we edge toward the men, our movements calculated and silent. I feel the heat of the moment, the significance of our mission. This isn't just another skirmish—it's a chance to save lives, to make a difference.

Gunfire erupts, shattering the night's deceptive calm. My heart slams against my ribs, a relentless drumbeat urging me forward. Each shot fired is a declaration of war against the darkness we've sworn to eradicate. Finn moves with deadly precision, his body a weapon honed for vengeance and justice.

"Left side!" Liam shouts, his voice a sharp blade cutting through the chaos.

I pivot, sighting down the barrel of my gun, and squeeze the trigger. A man collapses, his silhouette crumpling like a marionette with its strings severed. Beside me, Liam's breaths are ragged but determined, punctuated by the steady cadence of his own shots.

"Sniper in position," Sloane's voice crackles in my earpiece, cool and detached, but I can hear the undercurrent of adrenaline. She's perched somewhere above, our guardian angel cloaked in shadows. With each precise pull of the trigger, she carves a path of safety through the treachery that seeks to swallow us whole.

Another round sends a spray of concrete dust into the air, stinging my eyes. For a moment, the world narrows to the burn of my lungs and the heat of the blood racing beneath my skin.

"Truck's clear!" Liam yells, satisfaction laced with the dark edge of anger. We've halted one monster tonight, but the beast has many heads.

Suddenly, the scent of smoke claws at my nostrils, a toxic promise spreading faster than fear. An ember of dread kindles in my gut as my gaze snaps to the warehouse, where shadows dance with a new, orange ferocity.

"Fire!" The word tastes of ash as it leaves my lips.

One of Sean's men has slipped past our barrage, a wraith set on destruction. I watch, helpless, as flames lick the sides of the building, greedily devouring the old timber.

"Damn it!" Liam curses, his voice mirroring the helplessness that threatens to engulf us.

In the distance, the blaze catches Sloane's attention. Her perch gives her a vantage point on the inferno, a guardian angel with a rifle and a heart forged in the crucible of her father's disdain.

"Girls are still inside the warehouse," she says, the words heavy with a grim determination.

We exchange glances, silent vows passing between us. These women and girls won't be left to the mercy of the flames. Not while we draw breath, not while we can still fight.

"Let’s go!" Finn roars, and we charge toward the conflagration, our steps echoing with the weight of every soul we're racing to save.

Heat buffets us as we breach the warehouse door, a beastly furnace roaring to life in the bowels of the building. My lungs scream against the smoke, but I force my legs forward, Finn and Liam at my side. The blaze has already begun its ravenous dance, flickering tongues licking up towards the rafters, an inferno threatening to consume everything in its path.

"Upstairs!" I yell over the roar, pointing to where steel cages glint through the haze. Our footsteps pound on the concrete, a desperate rhythm beneath the crackle and pop of fire feasting on wood and old paint.

---