Page 145 of Bonds of Obsession

“They’re splitting up,” Atlas calls out, tracking movement through his gun sight. “Ambrose’s men are getting sloppy.”

He’s right. The mercs are losing their cohesion, with some taking cover behind parked cars while others try to retreat down side streets. Too bad Imogen’s crew is waiting in those shadows, and they’re not taking prisoners.

I watch one guy make a break for it, sprinting toward what he thinks is safety. One of Malcolm’s shooters drops him with a single shot.

“I think I’m starting to see why the Dark Lotus Syndicate has so much power,” Nico mutters, the appreciation clear in his voice as we watch the slaughter below.

Killian laughs. “No shit. It almost makes me wish we’d joined up with them sooner.”

The battlefield has transformed. Instead of being pinned down by superior numbers, the tide has turned and we’re crushing Ambrose’s forces with the help of some Dark Lotus muscle. His men are trapped between our elevated position and the ruthlessly efficient killers on the ground.

“Two of them are trying to circle around back.” I spot the movement and signal to Cassandra’s team. They acknowledge and move to intercept, cutting off the escape route.

Desperate screams ring out as Ambrose’s men realize just how fucked they are.

“Those bastards are getting what they fucking deserve,” Atlas says with grim satisfaction as another merc falls.

I nod, but my eyes are scanning the chaos below, searching for one particular target. Ambrose is down there somewhere, watching his forces get torn apart. And soon, very fucking soon, he’s going to learn exactly what it means to cross me and mine.

“Let’s make sure none of these fuckers slip through,” I say, sighting down my weapon. “Then we’ll take out Ambrose.”

“There’s our opening,” Nico says, nodding toward the east side of the building where the Syndicate’s muscle has cleared a path. “We need to move now before they regroup.”

I glance at Killian, who has gone even paler, with fresh blood still trickling from his head wound. He catches my look and straightens up. “I’m fine.”

He’s not, but there’s no point arguing with the stubborn bastard. “Atlas, help him. Nico and I will cover you.”

We make our way toward the fire escape, staying low. My heart pounds as we emerge from our cover, but the pressure from below has shifted. Most of Ambrose’s men are too busy trying to stay alive to worry about us anymore.

“Fucking stupid-ass stairs,” Killian mutters as we start down. He’s limping badly now, with each step clearly taking a lot out of him. But he keeps moving. Atlas stays close, ready to catch him if he stumbles.

A burst of gunfire sends us pressing against the metal railings. One of Ambrose’s men spots us, but Imogen’s crew takes him out before he can get another shot off.

“Keep moving,” I say, clenching my teeth and watching our backs as we descend. The metal steps rattle with each step, making too much goddamn noise for my liking.

We’re three floors down when Killian’s leg gives out. Atlas catches him before he can fall, but not before Killian lets out a string of curses that would make a sailor blush.

“We’re almost there,” I tell him, although we’ve still got two more floors to go. He grimaces, letting Atlas take more of his weight.

The ground-level door bursts open below us, and I snap my weapon up, but it’s just Malcolm’s guys coming to secure our exit. They move with practiced efficiency, checking angles and establishing a perimeter.

“The area is clear,” one of them calls up. “But not for long.”

We pick up the pace, practically dragging Killian down the last flight. His breathing is ragged, but he doesn’t complain.

Finally, our boots hit pavement. The sounds of battle are still echoing through the streets, but we’re mobile now.

Movement catches my eye. It’s a too-familiar silhouette trying to slip away through the chaos.

Ambrose.

That fucking coward is running now that things aren’t going his way.

“There!” I point him out to my men. “He’s heading east!”

“Go,” Killian grunts, still leaning heavily on Atlas. “Don’t let that bastard get away.”

I hesitate for a split second, not wanting to leave him when he’s hurt. But he’s right—we can’t let Ambrose escape now. Not after everything he’s done.

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