Page 144 of Bonds of Obsession

More footsteps thunder up the fire escape. At least three sets of boots, maybe more. We’re about to be overrun, and my last desperate bet with the Syndicate might have been for nothing.

“If they come through that door,” Atlas says grimly, “we go down swinging.”

I nod, my throat too tight to speak. My men look at me with absolute trust, even now.

The door to the roof starts to open, metal screeching against metal. I raise my empty gun anyway, refusing to show fear. If this is it, I’ll face it standing.

The door bursts open, and I brace myself for the end. But before Ambrose’s men can pour through, a shot rings out from the street below. It’s different from the others—a different caliber bullet from a different gun.

One of the mercenaries on the ground jerks backward, sending blood spraying in an arc. He goes down hard, and doesn’t get back up.

“What the fuck?” Atlas mutters, peering over the edge.

Another shot cracks through the night. Another merc falls. The ones still standing whirl around, suddenly caught between us above and whatever the hell is happening below.

My heart leaps into my throat as I spot movement in the shadows. Dark figures emerging from alleys and doorways, weapons raised. Professional killers, moving with lethal purpose.

“Looks like the cavalry finally fucking showed up,” Killian says, a savage grin splitting his bloody face.

Relief floods through me so fast it makes me dizzy. The Dark Lotus Syndicate might be a nest of vipers, but at least they honor their debts. For now.

The mercenaries at the roof access door hesitate, caught off guard by the chaos erupting below. That’s a fatal mistake. Nico takes advantage of their distraction, charging forward and slamming the door shut. The sound of their bodies tumbling down the metal stairs is sweeter than any music.

“Looks like a hell of a party you invited us to,” a gravelly voice calls up from the street. One of Imogen’s guys, I think. “I hope you don’t mind if we crash it.”

More gunfire erupts below, but this time it’s not all aimed at us. Ambrose’s men scramble for cover, suddenly finding themselves outflanked and outnumbered.

I share a look with my men, seeing my own incredulous joy reflected in their eyes. We’re not dead yet. And now these fuckers are about to learn what happens when you corner a bunch of rabid dogs.

“Let’s make this count,” I say, collecting a fallen merc’s weapon and checking the clip. Full. Perfect. “Time to remind these assholes why they should’ve stayed the fuck away from what’s mine.”

More figures materialize from the darkness below. They aren’t the Dark Lotus Syndicate members themselves—of course those fancy fucks wouldn’t get their own hands dirty. But their hired muscle is just as lethal, maybe more so.

I recognize some of Imogen’s crew by their distinctive tactical gear. A group of Malcolm’s stone-faced enforcers takes up position across the street. Even that bastard Elliot sent some of his people.

“Quite the collection of killers you’ve called up,” Atlas says, watching as the professionals below systematically begin to dismantle Ambrose’s forces.

“Fucking beautiful, isn’t it?” Killian’s bloody grin grows wider as another of Ambrose’s men goes down screaming.

These aren’t just thugs with guns. These are trained killers who get paid top dollar to do this shit. The difference shows in every precise shot and every coordinated movement. Ambrose’s mercenaries and ex-cons might be tough, but they’re outclassed and they know it.

One of Malcolm’s guys catches my eye and gives me a sharp nod. “Orders?” he calls up.

“Take them apart,” I shout back. “But leave Ambrose breathing. That fucker is mine.”

He acknowledges with a curt gesture, then signals to his team. They move like a well-oiled machine, pressing Ambrose’s men back with ruthless efficiency.

“Shit,” Nico mutters appreciatively as we watch Imogen’s crew execute a textbook flanking maneuver. “It was almost worth you joining that snake pit just for backup like this.”

Another wave of reinforcements arrives—Cassandra’s personal security team, I think. They’re geared differently than the others, but just as deadly. The night fills with gunfire and screams as they join the assault.

I feel the balance of power shifting beneath us. For the first time since this shit started, we might actually have a chance to end this. To end Ambrose.

“Ready to join the party?” I ask my men, checking the weapon I scavenged.

Three savage grins answer me. Time to remind everyone why you don’t fuck with the Princes of Carnage… or their princess.

The pressure eases off us as Ambrose’s men scramble to deal with the new threat. Instead of pushing up toward our position, they’re forced to pull back, trying to avoid getting boxed in by the professionals below.

---