Page 85 of Crown of Lies

The Princes of Carnage tear through the warehouse like a force of nature. The Young Killers, caught off guard and outgunned, start to fall back.

We seize the opportunity, surging forward. I empty my clip into two YK members trying to flank our reinforcements. Nico takes out another with a well-placed headshot.

I push forward with the others, riding the wave of adrenaline and relief. The warehouse is a mess of gunfire, shouts, and chaos, but we’re winning. The Young Killers are on the run, and we’re picking them off one by one.

Through the smoke and confusion, I spot Atlas breaking away from our group. He’s moving with purpose, his eyes locked on something—or someone—across the room. I follow his gaze and my breath catches in my throat.

It’s Harlan. The YK leader. The bastard who started all this.

Atlas closes in on him like a predator stalking its prey. Harlan tries to make a break for it, but Atlas is faster. He corners him against a stack of crates, gun aimed squarely at his chest.

“End of the line,” Atlas growls.

Harlan’s eyes dart around, searching for an escape route. Finding none, he lets out a nervous laugh. “You won’t kill me,” he says, his voice shaky but defiant. “You know what that would mean. A full-scale war between our gangs. You don’t have the balls.”

Atlas’s lips curl into a cold smile. “Doesn’t take balls to kill a son of a bitch like you,” he says, his voice eerily calm. “And even if it did…”

For a split second, confusion flashes across Harlan’s face. Then Atlas steps back, his eyes meeting mine. “I think hers are bigger than yours anyway.”

I move forward, my heart pounding in my ears. Atlas holds out his gun, but I shake my head. I’ve still got one bullet left in my own.

The YK leader’s eyes widen as I approach. “You can’t—” he starts, but I cut him off.

“You know,” I say, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me, “if you want someone dead, you shouldn’t waste time.” I level my gun at his head. “You should just kill them.”

I pull the trigger. The gunshot echoes through the warehouse, and Harlan’s body crumples to the ground.

I lower my gun, my hand trembling slightly as the adrenaline starts to wear off and the exhaustion sets back in. The warehouse is eerily quiet now, the chaos of the firefight replaced by an uneasy stillness. I look around, taking in the aftermath of our brutal showdown.

Bodies litter the floor, most wearing the colors of the Young Killers. The sight should probably disturb me more than it does, but I’ve seen worse. I’ve caused worse.

My eyes land on a figure slumped against a nearby crate, still breathing. One of our guys has a gun trained on him, waiting for orders.

Nico walks over, the rage in his expression easy to see. I recognize the guy on the ground—he’s one of the assholes who jumped me earlier, before the shooting started.

“You,” Nico snarls, looming over him. “You’re the piece of shit who put his hands on my wife.”

The guy looks up, fear flickering in his eyes before he manages to hide it. “Your wife?” he scoffs, his voice strained. “That’s fucking hilarious. You know what they say about her, right? How she spreads her legs for all of you? Didn’t think you’d mind sharing her with a few of us.”

I feel my blood run cold at his words. Nico’s entire body goes rigid, his knuckles turning white as he grips his gun tighter.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Nico’s voice is dangerously low, a promise of violence barely held in check.

The guy sneers, apparently deciding if he’s going to die, he might as well go out swinging. “You heard me. Your little wifey’sgot quite the reputation. Maybe you should keep her on a tighter leash if you don’t want other men touching her.”

I watch as Nico’s jaw clenches. He steps closer to the wounded Young Killer, looming over him like a predator about to strike. When he speaks, his voice drops to a dangerous whisper that sends chills down my spine.

“Listen carefully, asshole. You’re gonna deliver a message to your remaining buddies. Tell them your leader is dead for fucking with us. The Princes and Enigma? We’re a united front now. And if any of you even think about coming after my wife or my people again, I’ll tear you apart piece by piece until there’s nothing left. Got it?”

The guy nods frantically, fear replacing all of his earlier swagger.

Nico steps back, gesturing toward the exit. “Now get the fuck out of here.”

Outnumbered and unarmed, the terrified bastard scrambles to his feet. He starts running toward the warehouse door, limping slightly from his earlier injuries.

Just as he’s about to reach the exit, Nico raises his gun. The crack of gunshots echoes through the warehouse. The guy stumbles, crying out in pain as bullets tear through his leg and arm.

He collapses to the ground, whimpering and gasping. Blood pools beneath him as he tries to crawl away, leaving a dark red trail.

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