Page 18 of Always A Villain
“On it,” I grunt, rifle already in my hands, scope trained. My mind's locked in—sharp, lethal.
One breath. Two. I pull the trigger.
The shot hits true, and the RPG explodes in a fiery boom.
Screams tear through the crowds of people. Sovereigns scramble to arm themselves and join the fight, teams rushing to shield Isaac from the crossfire.
“They're getting closer!” he snaps, voice tight with urgency. “Keep 'em back!”
Gunfire shreds the air.
Bodies drop around us—no time to feel anything. My mind’s a ticking bomb, caught between the immediate threatand finding Rory.
“TAKE COVER!” Griffen's scream is drowned out by a massive explosion that slams into us, ripping the ground apart. The shock wave smashes through my body, sending me crashing hard into the dirt.
I blink against the ringing in my ears, vision blurring for a second. My chest feels like it’s been hit with a wrecking ball, but pain’s irrelevant now.
“Fuck!” Arsen's snarl cuts through the haze. He's bloody, face twisted with rage, but alive. Around us, more Sovereigns converge—blood-smeared, dirt-caked. The air’s heavy with the stench of smoke and death.
Everything else falls away. This is survival.
I push through the pain, crouching low, rifle primed. My brain's a whirlwind of instinct, violence, and cold focus.
“We need to take out those fucking choppers,” Priest shouts, rubbing dirt from his eyes.
Adjusting my rifle, blood drips down my face. The lights from the choppers shine through the smoke, bright against the dark sky. I swipe the blood from my brow and zero in.
“Arsen! Where did the girls go for food!?” Griffen yells. “Fuck!”
I push down the knot forming in my gut and lock in on the target. My finger tightens on the trigger, the rifle kicks back against my shoulder, and the chopper crumbles from the sky in a cascade of fire and twisted metal.
“Moving targets, incoming!” Priest warns, aiming his gun at the sky, gunfire snapping in the distance.
“Reaper! Take the next shot!” Arsen yells, shoving a magazine into his rifle.
Gritting my teeth, I steady my aim and prepare to unleash more hell. The bullets hit dead-on, igniting a fiery explosion that lights up the night. My body moves on instinct, reloading before the smoke even clears. But my mind is elsewhere—Rory. The need to find her sears through me like fire in my veins.
“Let’s move,” Arsen barks, and we fall into formation. Sovereign reinforcements flank us, guns ready.
“Anyone see a fucking shirt? I need a shirt!” I shout, eyes darting through the rising smoke.
Priest snatches up a Kevlar vest from a nearby bench and tosses it my way. “Here, quit bitching.”
I slip it on, the tightness barely registering. “Good enough.”
We rush toward the trucks, my eyes scanning, mind laser focused.
“Rory! Kyla!” Griffen’s shout cuts through the gunfire, his face a mask of blood and dirt.
“I’ll find them!” I snap, the adrenaline spiking harder now. “You guys assemble with the other teams and figure out who the hell these bastards are!” I don’t wait for an answer before breaking into a full sprint.
Debris and bodies litter the ground, but none of it matters.
My priority is singular—Rory.
More gunfire rings out in the distance, mixed with the screams of Servants and Associates scattering like rats. Every second feels like an eternity, the wreckage closing in.
Where the fuck is she?
