Page 48 of Depraved

There was a moment of stunned silence from down the hall. Then another voice, thick with disbelief, called out. "Sarah's dead? What the fuck are you talking about, Warren?"

"Your little ambush went sideways," Gage snarled, his knuckles white as he gripped his weapon. "She took a bullet meant for me. And for what? Some half-assed revenge plot?"

We inched forward, using the cover of overturned furniture and potted plants. The hallway opened up into a large, open-plan office space filled with cubicles. I could see movement behind the flimsy partitions—agents taking cover, their weapons trained on our position.

"You fucking traitor!" someone shouted.

Another voice chimed in, dripping with venom. "Look at you now, Warren. Playing lapdog to that cartel whore. Was her pussy really worth throwing away your entire career?"

Gage's face contorted with rage. "You don't know shit!" he roared. "Charlie and Leon died because they were being reckless! I told them to back the fuck off. I had it under control!" He took a shot, aiming for the closest cubicle and we heard a low curse from whoever was back there.

Bullets whizzed past us as the agents returned fire. I ducked behind an overturned desk, my heart pounding. Through the chaos, I heard a voice shout back at Gage. "Bullshit! They died because you couldn't keep it in your pants! You got too close to that bitch and it compromised everything. Charlie and Leon were good men. They didn't deserve to die because you couldn't resist playing house with a murderer!"

The words seemed to hit Gage like physical blows. I watched as he flinched, his resolve wavering for just a moment. Then his eyes met mine, and something shifted in his gaze. The doubt vanished, replaced by a cold, lethal focus.

"Maybe you’re right," he said, his voice eerily calm. "Maybe I’m a monster now too.”

Gage's words hung in the air for a moment before all hell broke loose. The agents behind the cubicles opened fire, a hail ofbullets tearing through the flimsy partitions. We dove for cover as we returned fire.

I rolled behind a filing cabinet. To my left, I saw River take down two agents with precision headshots, his face a mask of cold lethality. Alex was pinned down behind an overturned desk, trading shots with an agent who'd taken cover in a corner office.

Sarge charged forward, using an office chair as a makeshift shield. He plowed through the group of agents, sending them crashing to the ground before throwing the chair to the side. His fists were adorned with a matching set of brass knuckles, delivering brutal blows to an agent’s face over and over again. The sickening sound of bones breaking echoed through the chaos.

I popped up from behind my cover, squeezing off three rapid shots. An agent went down, clutching his throat as blood spurted between his fingers. Another stumbled, my bullet catching him in the thigh. The third shot went wide as I ducked to avoid return fire.

As I moved to take another shot, a searing pain exploded in my left shoulder. The impact spun me around, my back slamming against the filing cabinet. For a moment, the world tilted dizzyingly, sound muffling as if I were underwater. I blinked, struggling to focus as warm blood trickled down my arm.

"Layla!" Sarge's voice cut through the fog, raw with panic. "Layla's hit!"

I gritted my teeth, pressing my hand against the wound. The bullet had torn through muscle, but I could still move my arm. It hadn't hit bone or any major arteries. The pain was intense, radiating outward in pulsing waves, but manageable.

"I'm fine!" I shouted back, my voice steadier than I felt. "It's just a graze. Keep going!"

Alex appeared at my side, his eyes feral with panic as he took in the blood seeping between my fingers. "Fuck, Lala?—"

"I said I'm fine," I growled, pushing him away. "Don't lose focus." We couldn’t afford to lose our fucking hears. If any one of my men were killed today, I’d wage war on this entire fucking city.

He hesitated for a split second before nodding grimly and returning to the fight. I sucked in a deep breath, using the pain to sharpen my focus.

Gage vaulted over an overturned desk, bullets whizzing past him as he charged towards the corner office where a man had taken cover. His eyes were wild, filled with a manic fury I'd never seen before.

"Tate!" Gage bellowed, kicking in the office door with bone-shattering force. The wood splintered, hanging off its hinges as Gage stormed inside.

I struggled to my feet, ignoring the burning pain in my shoulder as I moved to follow him. Through the shattered doorway, I could see Tate scrambling backwards, his face pale and his eyes wild as Gage advanced on him.

"Gage, wait—" Tate started, his hands raised in a placating gesture. He was such a startlingly normal looking man. Short brown hair, pale skin and blue eyes. So fucking average. "We can talk about this?—"

"Talk?" Gage snarled, his voice dripping with venom. "You want to fucking talk now?" He grabbed Tate by the collar, slamming him against the wall hard enough to rattle the framed certificates hanging there. “We’re way past that now. You fucked up, man. You fucked up real bad when you shot the woman I love.”

Love…He was for real right now. I could fucking feel it.I knew without a shred of doubt in my fucking body that he was legit. In that split second, every moment I ever spent in his armsreplayed in my head. Every touch, every kiss, every fuck. Every time I told him it could never be more. It was because I was afraid of what it might mean for me to fall in love.

But it was too late for that now, wasn’t it? Because I couldn’t even lie to myself anymore. I stepped into the office, my gun trained on Tate. Blood dripped steadily from my wounded shoulder, but I ignored it. This was too important to miss.

Tate's gaze flicked between Gage and me, desperation clear in his eyes. "Gage, buddy, listen to me. We can fix this. We can make it right. Just... just put the gun down and we'll talk it out. Like old times, remember?"

Gage's hand tightened around Tate's collar, his knuckles white. For a moment, the only sound in the office was their ragged breathing and the muffled chaos from the hallway beyond. Tate's eyes were wide with fear, darting between Gage's face and the gun pressed against his temple.

Gage's finger tightened on the trigger, and I saw the exact moment he decided to kill his friend. In that instant, I knew what I had to do.

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