Page 77 of Matrix

Gunshots pierce the air. They sound as if they’re coming from the living room.

“Help me barricade the room!” Babet grabs one side of a huge oak dresser.“Hurry!”

I push my hands against the other side, and we shove it in front of the door.

“What’s going on?” I whisper.

“Don’t know.” She eyes the windows across the room.

“Stay away from those. If anyone’s on the street, they could see you.”

“We’ve never had anything like this happen before.” Babet’s pale and trembling. She crosses her arms over her chest and slides down to sit beside the dresser.

“Don’t worry. The guys will stop whoever’s trying to break in.” I kneel before her and take her hands in mine.“They’ll keep us safe.”

“Or they’ll die trying,” she whispers.

Even though I don’t believe in superstition, it feels like a portend. I shiver and glance at my sister. After all the shit we’ve been through, we’re not dying tonight. Vapor, Scar, and all the other men of Underground Vengeance will keep us safe. I know they will. But if something happens and they can’t, then we’re all dying tonight.

Together.

Chapter 19: Matrix

I’m sitting in the kitchen with Reaper and Tank when all hell breaks loose. The back door bursts open, and two men from the cartel run into the room. Within seconds, I’m on my feet with my gun drawn, but I don’t get a shot off fast enough. Tank takes a bullet to the shoulder. He drops to the floor, writhing in agony.

Returning fire, I clip one guy, who spins and falls to the ground. The other guy ducks behind the island. As he pops back up, I flip the dining room table and take cover. Bullets bite into the solid oak, sending wood chips flying. I wait for an opening to shoot back. Before I can act, Reaper springs out from the pantry. He fires his Glock at the man behind the island, and the bullet grazes the guy’s arm, forcing him to drop his weapon.

I rush forward, ready to take him down, until he pulls a machete from his shoulder strap sheath. The eighteen-inch blade flashes as it arches down. I leap back, narrowly missing its sharp edge. I’m about to fire my gun when a huge body slams into me from behind. My weapon clatters across the tile out of reach.

Reaper pulls the thug off me before tossing him against the cabinets, dropping his gun in the process. That doesn’t stop him from finishing off the guy with a boot to the face. We turn toward the man with the machete. He swipes it back and forth in an arc, advancing toward us.

As I step back, my boot connects with a solid mass. I glance down to find Tank lying on the floor with his face contorted in pain. He’s pressing his hand into his wounded shoulder, but it’s not helping. Blood spurts through his fingers, soaking his tank top. If we’re going to save him, we need to act fast.

Suddenly, Reaper surges past me. He grabs the machete guy’s arm and holds it above the guy’s head. They’re locked in a battle of wills. Neither man is winning, so I have to act fast.

“Grab a gun!” Reaper yells.

I scramble across the floor to get my gun. As soon as it’s securely in my hand, I aim. I can’t get a good shot. Reaper’s in the way.

“Drop!” I yell.

Reaper immediately releases the guy and ducks. I fire, hitting the man in the heart. We don’t have time to celebrate his death. Screams and gunshots echo through the house, reminding us of the chaos still surrounding us.

As we leave the kitchen and stalk toward the living room, a cartel member attempts to flee. He’s holding a knife with a twelve-inch blade covered in blood. I knock it out of his hand before it can do any more damage, and it clatters to the floor. I land a solid punch to his jaw, and he falls face-first onto the ground. He won’t be going anywhere for a while.

I kick the knife under the couch in my attempt to retrieve it.“Fuck!”

Trying to make sense of the pandemonium, I spot several pairs of men locked in combat. I search for any cartel members who aren’t being handled by NOLA club members. One guy near the front of the house pulls something round and shiny out of his pocket and sends it sailing through the air.

“Fuck! Grenade!” I scream as I dive behind a nearby couch.

The grenade lands in the middle of the room. The explosion is deafening, and the force of it sends me hurtling into a wall. The air is thick with smoke and debris. I struggle to regain my bearings as I cough and gasp for breath.

When the smoke clears, the room has been decimated. Bodies lay strewn across the floor, some of them barely recognizable. I scan the area for any sign of the enemy, but all I see is destruction.

As the ringing in my ears subsides, I become aware of a low groan nearby. I crawl toward the sound and find Ice lying on the floor. His leg is twisted at a grotesque angle. Aside from that, he doesn’t seem to have any life-threatening injuries.

“Help the others,” he gasps, his voice barely audible over the ringing in my ears.

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