Page 139 of Filthy Elites

“Fucking … goddamn … bitch…” he mutters, clamping his fingers against my throat. My airway cuts off and my head goes foggy. I turn my cheek, kicking underneath him. I don’t even care that my dress is practically up around my hips and I’m naked from the waist down. I need to see Viks. I need to know he’s not dead.

In the distance, the sound of grunting reaches me. Kennedy flies past me, another gun drawn. I’m surprised we haven’t drawn the eyes or attention of other people, but Inferno’s pounding music can be heard from out here so I doubt anyone inside has any clue what’s going on. How we’re fighting for our lives.

I don’t know where Viks is at the moment, or even if he’s still breathing, but as Josh leans harder on his forearms, pressing me into the gravel and concrete at my back, I realize I can’t wait for him. I can’t fucking sit here and hope he saves me in time. I slap my hands against Josh’s face, grasping at his chin and shoving my thumb up until it’s against his eye.

I have to know if Viks is okay, I think. And I don’t care anymore what I have to do to make it happen.

Without any more hesitation, I grit my teeth, close my eyes and push into Josh’s eye socket. He screams, jerking his head to the side, but it’s too late. His hands loosen on my throat and I suck back a breath, turning and dragging myself out from beneath him.

“My eye!” he screams. “My fucking eye!”

I spot what looks like a broken iron bar sticking out of a mound of trash next to a nearby dumpster. I scramble towards it, grasping the end of the damn thing even as the sharp metal end cuts into my hand, and yank it free.

Using the thing like a club, I turn and as soon as I see Josh charging towards me, bleeding from his one closed eye and enraged, I swing. His lone good eye widens and he tries to duck at the last minute but it’s too late. I clip him right in the jaw. As I do one of the bullets flying past pierces him right in the shoulder, and he goes down hard on the ground. My eyes widen as I gape down at him, blood draining from him as he rolls over and groans.

Another gunshot rings out, and air whizzes past my ear, making me freeze. Wrong move, I realize as the shooter—Kennedy—pulls the trigger again and this time a burning sensation hits me in the side. I drop the iron bar and go down. Fire burns up my hip and I look down, noting the blood—my blood—right before I hear a familiar shout.

Head hazy, body cramping in pain, I watch a bleeding Viks shove Kennedy against the wall, and down at the very mouth of the alleyway, Troy is charging towards us. It’s too late for me though. Kennedy grins, despite his circumstances, and the gun in his hand—still pointed in my direction—cocks back one last time.

TWENTY-FOUR

Viks

“Because I don’t want you!”Haley’s scream reaches my ears as I finally squeeze my body down to the bottom of the emergency staircase. My muscles are tight, sweat clinging to the back of my neck. I hear more words spoken and then eerie silence.

I step off the last stair and shove the door open, coming around the side with my gun drawn to see Haley on the ground. There’s a smudge of dirt on her cheek and she’s shoeless—but otherwise, she seems fine. She glances back at me, eyes widening as she jerks her head to the asshole standing over her. He’s holding her fucking gun, I realize.Fuck.

“No!” Haley screams again just as the fucker pulls back, cocking the pistol and pulling the trigger. I don’t have a second to fucking retaliate with my own as the bullet flies through the air and slams into my shoulder.

My arm spasms and the gun in my hand drops to the ground as the entire limb goes dead. I can feel the muscles spasm and the pain washes through my head, but I grit my teeth. I can’t stop now.

Haley—my little fighter—attacks the kid in front of her and thankfully, he loses control of the gun. I’m both proud of her and furious because all she’s doing is pissing him off. And even if she’s strong, even if she’s got the gun away from him—he’s still a man and he still has the upper hand. With a growl, I fly towards the two of them only to be stopped as none other than Patrick Kennedy steps in my path. He swings and narrowly misses as I duck back at the last second, his fist passing in front of me with a rush of air.

Fist up, blood singing in my veins, I punch back, and even with my non-dominant hand I nail the bastard in the jaw.Where the fuck is Troy?

Kennedy spits out a wad of blood and circles me. I can hear Haley’s gasps for air and then the kid's scream.

I put my head down, unwilling to waste any more fucking time, and plow into the fucker like a footballer. I slam him down into the ground, the two of us nothing but a tangle of limbs. The scent of weed and garbage rises up in my face. I ignore it, punching down again only to be nailed in the face and flipped onto my back. Kennedy’s fists fly against my side and something cracks along my ribs. My teeth clamp down at the sudden agony and I damn near bite my tongue off. A piece of oversized gravel beneath me stabs into my shoulder wound, making me hiss out a breath as Kennedy scrambles across the ground, heading away from me.

It takes me a split second, but when I realize what he’s going for, a roar erupts from my throat. “No!” Kennedy snatches up my fallen gun and then turns—pointing it not at me, but at the very thing that keeps my heart beating.

Her.

He gets off one shot. I roar once more and attack, shoving him against the wall hard enough that with my sheer size the outside brick rains down on us in a cloud of red dust. It sticks to the sweat on my skin, gets into my eyes. But fuck it—I don’t care if I go blind. I can’t let anything happen to her. I’ve already failed her once.

Kennedy’s toothy grin is in my face, his teeth coated in his own blood and his nose slightly crooked. Another shot goes off and Haley’s stunned cry echoes against the side of the club’s outer walls.

It happens so quickly. Footsteps pound the pavement—Troy, rushing to get to us. But it’s too late. Kennedy struggles to lift the arm with the gun and I reach for it, but his finger is already on the trigger. The gun goes off one … last … fucking … time just as the fingers of my good hand lock around his wrist. I tighten my hold and twist his hand to the side and keep going—relishing in the crunch of bones as it breaks and the weapon drops from his grip.

Kennedy shouts in agony, but it’s not enough. Despite the fire burning down my right arm, I punch him and I don’t fucking stop. His teeth shatter under my knuckles. Blood pours down his face. His eyes grow swollen and I know I’ve shattered his cheekbone. I can’t stop.

It isn’t until a familiar hand takes hold of my arm, clamping down on my wound and making my whole back bow in pain that I finally drop him. The pissant little shit collapses to the ground.

I turn, fully intending to take out the new threat, but it’s Troy. He stares at me wide-eyed, his own gun drawn. I don’t think. I just snatch it from his grip and before he can stop me, I whirl back around, press the barrel straight against the fucker’s skull and pull the trigger.

Brain matter splatters against the side of Inferno, staining the brick in a dark splatter of crimson. No one survives a fucking headshot like that. The gun falls out of my grip.

“She’s fine.” My eyes jerk up to him and then down the alley and I see why it’d taken him so long to get to us—because he’d been busy grabbing back up. Andrei stands over Haley, and her beautiful blue eyes are open and aware, though a bit dazed.

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