Page 28 of Savage Loyalty

Chains gripped the handle and yanked the door open with a swift pull. The hinges groaned in protest, the sound splitting through the silence like a shot. My pulse quickened, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. Everything in me screamed that this was wrong, but there was no turning back.

The faint glow of flickering fluorescent lights spilled into the night, casting uneven shadows across Chains’ broad shoulders as he stepped inside. My hand moved instinctively to my gun, the weight of it against my palm a cold comfort.

“Let’s go,” I muttered, my voice low but firm as I followed him in. Behind me, the others moved in tight formation, their boots crunching against the gravel before hitting the cold, unforgiving concrete inside.

Every step felt heavier than the last, the air thick with the kind of tension that comes right before all hell breaks loose. This wasn’t just a job anymore. This was a test. Of us. Of me. And I wasn’t about to fail.

The interior swallowed us whole, the dim glow of flickering fluorescent lights casting jagged, shifting shadows across the cold, empty space. The air hit me immediately—thick, stale, and clinging to the back of my throat with the sour stench of oil and mildew. It was the kind of smell that stuck to your skin, a mix of abandonment and something darker.

The space was cavernous, its emptiness pressing against us like a physical weight. A few crates were stacked near the walls, their placement too deliberate to be random but too careless to seem significant. An old forklift slouched in the corner, rust creeping up its frame like decay overtaking a corpse. If this was a stash house, it had already been gutted.

“Clear,” Chains called, his voice booming in the stillness. The word echoed off the concrete walls, amplifying the unease that already gnawed at the edges of my mind.

The crew spread out, their movements deliberate but cautious. Torch moved to a stack of crates near the far wall, his boots crunching against the gritty floor as he approached. He nudged the top one with his boot, his movements sharp with frustration. It toppled easily, hitting the ground with a hollow thud. The sound reverberated through the space, louder than it had any right to be. The contents spilled out—a mess of crumpled packing paper and not much else.

“This place has been cleaned out,” Torch muttered, his voice tight. “If the Vipers were here, they’re long gone.”

Smoke grunted in agreement, his hand resting on the butt of his gun. He stayed near the entrance, his sharp gaze sweeping the shadows like he expected something to jump out at any moment. Chains, meanwhile, prowled the perimeter, his massive frame moving with a surprising quietness as he checked every corner, every possible hiding spot.

I stayed in the center of the room, my eyes never stopping. Every instinct in me screamed that this wasn’t right. The room was too still, too silent like it was holding its breath. The faint buzz of the lights overhead filled the air, a constant reminder of the oppressive emptiness pressing down on us.

“Stay sharp,” I said, my voice low and steady. My fingers brushed against the grip of my gun, the familiar weight a comfort but also a warning. I wasn’t the only one on edge. I could feel it in the way Torch’s shoulders were just a little too stiff, the way Smoke kept glancing over his shoulder, the way Chains’ movements were slower, more deliberate than usual.

I stepped further into the room, the sound of my boots against the concrete almost deafening in the quiet. My eyes caught something—a faint glint near the far wall. It was small, just a flash of light reflecting off metal, but it was enough to make every muscle in my body tighten.

“What the—” Torch started, but I held up a hand, cutting him off. I moved toward the wall, my steps slow and deliberate, my breath shallow as I strained to make sense of the faint shimmer in the shadows.

That’s when I heard it.

A sharp click, metallic and unmistakable.

My heart seized. It was the sound you never wanted to hear in a situation like this. The sound of a gun being cocked.

“Down!” I barked, my voice slicing through the silence like a blade. I dove behind a stack of crates just as the first shot rang out, the deafening crack ricocheting off the walls.

Chaos erupted in an instant. Bullets tore through the air, slamming into concrete and metal with sharp, echoing impacts. Sparks flew as ricochets danced wildly around the room. The shadows came alive, figures emerging from the darkness with guns drawn and leather cuts emblazoned with the Iron Serpents’ insignia.

My stomach dropped.

It wasn’t the Vipers.

This was a trap, and the Serpents had been waiting for us.

Adrenaline surged through my veins, sharpening every sound, every movement. The Serpents moved like predators, their dark silhouettes cutting through the dim light as they fired with deadly precision. The warehouse erupted into chaos, the confined space amplifying every gunshot into an ear-splitting roar.

“Ambush!” Torch shouted, his voice barely carrying over the cacophony. His gun barked in sharp, precise bursts as he returned fire, the muzzle flare lighting up his determined face.

Chains was already in motion, his massive frame making him a living shield as he dragged Razor behind a stack of crates. “Stay low!” he bellowed his voice a booming command that somehow cut through the noise.

I pressed my back against a crate, the sharp edges digging into my jacket as I ducked my head. My fingers tightened around the grip of my gun, and I peeked out just long enough to fire two quick shots, the recoil jolting through my arm. One of the Serpents staggered, clutching his shoulder, but the others kept advancing, their bullets tearing into anything that wasn’t bolted down.

Smoke was to my left, his gun blazing as he laid down suppressing fire. “This isn’t just a hit!” he yelled, his words punctuated by the snap of bullets overhead. “They knew we’d be here!”

“No shit!” I snarled back, ducking as a spray of gunfire chewed through the crate beside me. Splinters rained down, catching in my collar and stinging against my skin. My mind raced, trying to piece together how this had gone so wrong so quickly. Someone had sold us out. They had to.

Another Serpent charged forward, his gun blazing, and Chains met him head-on. The two collided like freight trains, the impact sending the Serpent sprawling to the ground. Chains didn’t hesitate, bringing his fist down in a brutal arc that left the man motionless.

“Fall back!” I roared, the words tearing from my throat as I leaned out and fired again, forcing a cluster of Serpents to dive for cover. “Get to the bikes!”

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