Page 109 of Traitor

Please be wrong.

Please don’t be what I fucking think this is.

I’d assumed that if the Sons ever grew a pair and decided to attack, that they’d go after Grey or another biker.

Never here though.

Not with my entire fucking world hidden in a closet, fifteen feet away from me.

I should’ve told her to run.

I tossed the bag down on the landing overlooking the downstairs before finding a semi protected spot to crouch. I was near a wall that I could get behind if needed. It was a good vantage point to see who the fuck was about to waltz into my house.

I wasn’t sure whether to hurl or shit myself as the sound of boots hit the front porch.A fucking coward with a gun—hadn’t that been how I’d seen myself?

I popped the mag in, but it was impossible to determine how many of them were outside. Unfortunately, I didn’t have to wait long.

The front door imploded—shards of wood and glass flying everywhere, as they forced their way in. I lost count after five; more focused on trying to keep all of them in my sights.

I had the element of surprise on my side, right up until I depressed the charging handle and pulled it back. It moved forward with a loud click and suddenly every fucking eye was on me.

I didn’t even think about the ramifications of firing a full auto inside my fucking house. I just emptied the mag as they finished coming through the door before dropping it and grabbing the next one.

Spray and pray.

The bikers hadn’t stood still like good little boys and began firing back at me. Bits of drywall and bannister joined bullets as they whipped past my head and I rolled back behind the wall.

Jesus Christ.

My house had become a fucking war zone and I suddenly realized that I hadn’t grabbed enough ammo.

Keep Lauren safe.

It was the only thing I could focus on at the moment. I rolled back onto the landing on my stomach, praying that they wouldn’t get another shot off before I did.

I’d only ever used this gun standing up and I was fucking struggling to get my grip right in my current position. The gas block grew hot and I was forced to adjust my grip because I didn’t have gloves on. It just gave the bikers plenty of time to return fire and move closer.

How long had this been going on?

I ducked back behind the bullet riddled wall, grabbing the bag as the air whistled with bullets. I’d hit maybe one or two. Not enough to end this soon. Our wedding picture shattered and fell to the floor with a crash and a quick check around the corner confirmed that they were getting closer.

I reached into the bag.

Fuck.

I had one mag left.

If they got up here, we were both dead. I dropped the empty and looked down at my only salvation. I had to make it count—I let them start moving up the stairs, their bullets ricocheting off of every goddamn thing around me.

Wait for it.

Wait for it.

I’d been in some tight spots,but this?It’d be a fucking miracle if I made it out alive. It wouldn’t even matter as long as she was okay.

Now.

I went to slide the mag in, but it wouldn’t click—it was like it didn’t fit all of a sudden. Drywall broke off above my head and I ducked, before yanking the charging handle back and trying again. This time it slipped in and I rolled onto my stomach before emptying it on the stairs.

---