Page 112 of Savage

Shouts sounded and it was instant chaos, Lachlan and each of the brothers moving so fast it was hard to keep up. Whateverit was they were using to knock the thugs out worked like a charm, bodies falling left and right, scattering the piles of pills.

I scribbled as fast as I could, marking down the important details of what was happening and hoping like hell I’d be able to read the mess later.

“Shit—” I started as a figure approached on one of the cameras, but Benoit was already on it.

“Theo, on your left.”

Lightning fast, Theo immobilized the man, and I couldn’t help but think it was a smart idea for the masks and hoods. If they weren’t taking care of these guys in a permanent way, the last thing they needed was for their identities to get out.

Lachlan had Mick in his sights, but he didn’t bother incapacitating him. Instead, he sauntered toward him, taking his time as Mick panicked, searching for an escape but realizing he was cornered, his crew’s bodies dropping around him.

I couldn’t look away as Mick reached for something behind his back, but Lachlan didn’t give him time to grab whatever it was. With a flick of his wrist, he released a throwing star, nailing Mick in the arm. A cry ripped out of him, but Lachlan kept coming. From the view of one of his brothers, I could see Lachlan reach for a knife, and he began to flip it as he approached Mick, the same way he had in his kitchen.

“Nonlethal takedown,” Benoit reminded him, but he didn’t seem too put out by Lachlan seemingly disobeying orders. In fact, I wagered he wished he had a bucket of popcorn.

“He’s not going to die,” Lachlan said, stopping in front of Mick, who held both his hands up in surrender. “He’s just going to wish he did.”

“No,” Mick said, looking past Lachlan for any sign of someone to help, but from the view of the other feeds, the coast was looking clear. Mick straightened his shoulders and lifted hischin, a final act of defiance as he dropped his hands. “Who are you?”

“Your worst fucking nightmare,” Benoit said.

Mick wiped at his nose, his jerky movements proving he hadn’t given up using at least some of hisnonfatal product. “Is it the drugs you want or the money?”

Lachlan shook his head slowly and flipped his knife again. “Justice.”

Before Mick could open his mouth again, Lachlan slashed his thigh, causing Mick to shout in pain and double over, grabbing at his injury.

But Lachlan wasn’t done.

His gloved fist made contact with Mick’s face with a loud crack, cutting off the scumbag’s shouts as he dropped to the floor like a rag doll.

“Oh shit,” I said, on the edge of my seat as Lachlan looked directly at the closest camera to him, Alessio’s feed, and said, “For Alex.”

Then he slammed his knife into Mick’s hand, effectively nailing him to the floor.

Mick screamed in agony as the sharp blade penetrated his skin and bone, and Benoit looked back at where I sat slack-jawed staring at the screen.

Holy. Fuck.

At least it wasn’t through the guy’s heart—which was what he really deserved, if you asked me.

“You okay?” Benoit said, waving a hand in front of me.

“Uh, yeah, I?—”

“We’ve got to go,” King interrupted over the mic, and as if we were both out there with them, we instantly fell silent. “Stone,” King barked at Lachlan. “Fall back,now.”

Lachlan slowly rose to his feet, his camera looming over Mick where he lay pinned to the broken floorboards, then turned on his heel and started back toward the warehouse entrance.

Through his camera I could see two of his brothers up ahead. Tall and commanding, they walked like leaders, and as they started to talk, I realized why.

“Once we’re out,” King said, “you make the call.”

“On it,” Shep replied.

A deep chuckle came from Alessio as they exited the warehouse one at a time and moved through the darkness toward the vehicle. “Aw, cheer up, lover boy—at least you got to play with your knives.”

“It’s not the same,” Lachlan grumbled, then under his breath added, “Couldn’t even let me have one guy.”

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