Page 156 of The Beautiful Dead

Didn’t falter.

I fought at his side, a reflection and shadow, each moving like two halves of the same darkness.

He ducked, and I covered. He swung left, I went right. His blade sank into a throat at the same time I emptied my clip into another.

We moved like a single, deadly entity.

A force of nature.

An unstoppable nightmare.

Salvatore pushed through the gates first, a wave of gunfire trailing him. Chaos erupted. Snipers on the balconies opened fire.

Luca snapped a man’s neck before he could even lift his gun, let alone pull the trigger.

Enzo threw a grenade through an open window, the explosion turning the interior into a hellstorm of shrapnel and screams.

Diego, slick with blood, gutted two men in quick succession, his blade carving through their stomachs like wet silk.

Ellio fought like a ghost made flesh, darting between bodies, knife flashing, opening throats like whispers of death. Then finished each with a bullet between the eyes just to make sure they’d never rise again.

The Gallo soldiers advanced, their firepower turning the estate’s manicured lawn into a graveyard.

Hand-to-hand combat broke out as clips ran dry.

Fists. Knives. Teeth.

One of Federico’s men lunged at me. A nameless merc. I caught his wrist before the blade could sink in. Snapped it. Ripped the knife from his failing grip. Buried it in his eye.

A bullet whizzed past my ear.

Remi was already on the shooter, slitting his throat before his finger could pull the trigger again. A flash of silver. A line of red. The merc collapsed, his throat carved open.

His gaze snapped to mine, wide-eyed, feral, and manic with bloodlust. He smiled. A slow, sharp, wicked thing baring his blood stained teeth.

Like he knew exactly what I was thinking.

Because he did.

Because we were the same.

We fought through the last line of defense, like wading through a river of carnage and fire.

Salvatore’s voice rang through the night. “End this.”

Federico’s men broke. Some ran. Others were gunned down before they could take another step.

Cowards.

Traitors.

Dead men walking.

We pushed through the wreckage, past shattered bodies and smoldering debris. The estate doors loomed before us. We knew where Federico was waiting..

Remi wiped the blade clean on his thigh, his chest rising and falling with each measured breath. Controlled.

But I could feel the war inside him.

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