Page 85 of Penance

The unhinged chorus bursts free. I thrust myself up, my good arm slapping down on the roof. My fingers curled around my gun as I thrust my body up and pull myself through the sunroof. Max snarls below me, his thick fingers latching onto my dangling ankles, but I kick out at him. He lets go, I draw my legs up and out, moving fast.

The winter wind no longer feels cold, my skin so hot, steam practically emitting off of me. I skate down the windscreen, my booted feet hammering across the bonnet, I jump down, crouched low. More car doors open, some slamming shut. Ronan throws Ashlee down beside me. His huge body crouching over the top of her, his spine curved, protecting her like a mother would their cub. His huge, muscled body, dark and light. The electric UV body paint against his beautiful ebony skin. His rich, brown eyes on his woman. My heart clenches.

“Stay here,” I tell him, and for once, the big joker doesn’t argue, just looks up and nods, his grip unyielding on his love.

I shuffle forward, the arches of my feet screaming. Silence. Kacey looks through the windscreen at me, his gold eyes the only thing I want to see in the dark. A shadow moves behind our car, my eyes flicker to behind him. Just as I’m about to rise out of my position, Dominic’s door flies open, his alabaster skin shining like the face of the moon. His giant height solid, his stature straight. He starts walking forward, he fires his shotgun, seemingly unphased with being so exposed. Huxley moves in behind me, his palm freezing against my scorching skin. He kisses my shoulder; bullets start to fly and then we both move. Blowing our cover for the sake of taking down our enemies, to keep our family safe. Max pops up through the sunroof, sliding down the side of the car. Kacey climbs out, a tyre iron in his hand.

We rush forward, an impenetrable wall, but for how long? We have no reloads, other than Dom’s shotgun shells. That counts for nothing if they’re geared up, and why wouldn’t they be? This was their purpose.

We’ve been hunted.

But I never really was very good at being prey.

My eyes adjusting to the darkness, I know I only have seven or so rounds.

Better make them count.

We pass the crashed cars, the windscreen shattered, a man slumped over the steering wheel, my bullet in his face. I count five bodies. Two cars block the road, all the doors open, that could mean up to fourteen men. Maybe more. The odds aren’t in our favour but when have they ever been.

A smile touches my lips as I think of Charlie. Knowing how pissed he’ll be that he wasn’t here. He may be on his way after Ronan’s phone call, but he won’t get here in time, not now. My body thrums, adrenaline smashing through every part of me. My demon stretching, her jaws gnashing as I give her the freedom to play.

Dominic drops the first guy to pop off a shot. Slamming the butt of his gun into his skull, blood splatters as he hammers into him, over and over. My cousin may be stoic, cool, calm and collected, and he may be a Montblanc by name. But there’s still that deadly Swallow blood running through those veins, something violent and brutal. I smile as everyone suddenly leaps into action. Men swarm, balaclavas on their heads, their faces covered, just like last night outside The Black Heart.

A guy rushes me from the left, my right hand lashing out. The heel of my good hand slamming up into the base of his chin, my fist and the gun impacting. Blood instantly leaks from his lips, I twist my body, firing a bullet into his chest, sweeping his legs out from beneath him. His body collapsing in a heap, I step over him. I shoot two more. Three men are on Kacey, he headbutts one of them, then smashes the one behind him with the back of his skull. I smile, my thighs clenching. This is what gets me off, I don’t care what anyone says about me, this is who I am. It’s in my fucking DNA.

Sometimes we’re thrust into violence and it stains, scars, seeps deep into those cracks and crevices you didn’t even know were there. It hibernates then, lying in wait, waiting to be needed and when you finally let it out to play. It’s fucking beautiful. Thing is, you need to be prepared for what you release, ‘cause once you set it free, it ain’t never going back.

I crack a guy in the ribs with my elbow as he goes to grab me. His fingers attempt to grasp my dress, it’s so skin-tight he stands absolutely zero chance. I laugh at him, a quick bullet to his head. Why the fuck do these people think I’m not going to shoot them? I’d rather be in a fist fight, but we all deal with the hand we’re dealt, regardless of preferences, and we need this to be over quickly.

My eyes scan over the brawl. Skin slapping, thumping, grunts and groans, but not many guns firing, thankfully. I hear sirens in the distance, signalling our game is almost over, but I don’t want any of these fuckers getting away.

Kacey bends low. Throwing the guy behind him over his back, down to the cracked tarmac at his feet. Max and Dom back-to-back, each of them holding their own, easily surrounded by seven or eight men.

I look for my Huxley. A man, gun in hand, his arm coming up, his aim on the back of Huxley’s head. I don’t think, I run. Everything seems to play out in slow motion, someone hits me from the side, rugby tackling me to the ground. The air knocked from my lungs, my gun skittering across the tarmac, my skin grazing as I slide across the ground. I kick out, catching my attacker in the thigh, but his grip doesn’t loosen, it tightens, my bent leg trapped between us.

“HUXLEY! DUCK!” I scream, my lungs wailing with the sound.

His head snaps up, his body dropping down on instinct as the gun behind him goes off. I cough my relief, watching as he takes his shooter out. His leg sweeping out from his crouched position, he pounces on his fallen attacker. One, two, three bullets to his chest, before spinning on another.

I slump into the cold ground, the man on top of me, his arms banded around me has me panting for breath. He half crawls over me, a glint in his murky brown eyes. I buck up against him, using my trapped leg, my knee digging into his stomach. I push it up, grunting with exertion. This guy is fucking heavy. He grins, his teeth perfectly straight, stark white against his black mask. My wounded hand on fire between us, I grit my teeth. Using my free hand to grab his throat, my thumb in his windpipe, he laughs, sneering as I push harder.

He rears back, throwing his head forward, his forehead slamming into mine despite my hand around his throat. A loud crack, my ears ringing, teeth clashing with my lip, my mouth filling with blood. My eyes blur, white spots dancing in my vision, he grins wider. I swirl the blood in my mouth, spitting it in his face, he punches me in the side. I grunt, my ribs screaming. I re-angle my knee, he rears back again, readying for a second headbutt, I can’t take another one.

God, is his head made of fucking steel?

I crane my neck as his head comes forward. Unfortunately, all that happens is he headbutts me in the side of the throat, my windpipe crunching. He hits me, again and again. Landing blows across my torso, my face. He lets up, I cough, my lungs heaving. He laughs then. A loud, deep chuckle, but it’s enough to have me blinking through my pain. I breathe heavily through my nose, sirens getting nearer. He leans his weight back, reaching for my gun. Motherfucker. I release his throat, knowing that’s wasted energy, he has the upper hand. His free palm splayed over my chest, forcing my spine to the ground. I wriggle my knee, curling my knuckles, he looks down at my leg, tutting like the cocky fucker he is.

So. Fucking. Confident.

I smash my fist into the front of his neck. His hand on my chest automatically going to his throat, clawing at his skin. I half launch myself up, my teeth nipping at his neck. My leg still trapped between us, he grabs me again. Slamming me down, my head ricocheting off the tarmac. I see stars, my brain rattling around inside my skull, my mind screaming at me to push up, anything. Heat rushes through my limbs, keeping them down, my stomach lurches, I gag. My attacker laughs, getting in my face, his lips a hair’s breadth from my own.

“Game over,Your Highness,” he chuckles, the sound racing through my head.

My arm lying limply beside me, pins and needles rushing through my body.

“You’re just a weak, pathetic, little bitch,” he taunts, my eyes struggling to focus. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about, having all these men come for you,” he spits.

His mask grazing against the side of my face, the material rough as he drops his lips to my ear.

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