Page 127 of Beautifully Shattered
Looks like a bullet nicked his thigh.
“You gonna live, Ringo?” he asks, bending down to peer at me through JD’s open window.
“Yep. Bullet didn’t hit anything vital,” I grunt, nodding his way. “You get hit too?”
“The Rebels President had a fucking go. Not a good enough one, though.” His lips kick up in a savage grin.
“Where’s he now?” JD asks, and Smitty jerks his head towards a pair of legs sticking out from a pile of bushes.
“He’s gone to Hell. Let’s see how the ones that got away handle not having anyone in leadership.”
My brows shoot up.
“You got their VP too?”
Smitty’s eyes gleam as he holds a finger up, telling us to wait, and then a gunshot cracks through the air, and he grins. “There goes the VP.”
Glancing back out over the line, I see the barrel of Spud’s gun smoking and the man who was kneeling now lying dead in the dirt. Then Spud steps to the next Rebel and pulls the trigger.
Darting my gaze to Abbey, I see her watching, not a flicker of regret or pity in her eyes.
It’s like she’s somehow switched off the part of herself that made her so human. So caring, even for monsters.
I mean, she still cares for me, but the woman she used to be is either gone or buried so deep it’d take a miracle to bring her back.
Another loud crack of Spud’s gun snaps my gaze back out the window to see two Rebels left kneeling.
One’s a dead man. The other is our informant.
Moving to the second-last Rebel, Spud points and shoots, like it’s just a typical fucking Sunday, and then he moves to Moore, fisting his shirt, and drags him through the dirt towards Smitty.
“What’s he doing?” Abbey asks quietly.
“Gotta make it look real in case there are Rebels hiding and watching,” I explain, watching as Smitty draws out his own gun and presses it to Moore’s forehead.
“How many do you think got away?” he asks Moore quietly, but his expression is stone cold so anyone watching would just see a club President intimidating an enemy.
“Maybe half a dozen. They’ll probably reach out to Panda and get picked up by him,” Moore offers softly.
“Who the fuck is Panda?” JD butts in through the window, but Moore doesn’t take his eyes off Smitty.
“Panda has a team of twelve Rebels with that snake, Allen, and his nephew.”
Abbey sits taller at the mention of Ian Allen’s name, her hand still holding the gauze in place.
“No one knows where they are, but after what’s happened, they’ll look to Panda for leadership. He’s the only one remotely smart enough to take over now that you’ve wiped out the others.” Moore cringes when Smitty shoves his barrel harder against his forehead.
“Find the stragglers. Get the location and report back the second you have it.”
Spittle flies from Smitty’s lips as he snarls in Moore’s face, who nods like he’s terrified, but fuck, he’s nothing but a good fucking actor.
He’s not scared of Smitty or anyone here. Not even when Smitty shifts his gun and presses it to Moore’s bicep.
Knowing what’s coming, I have a split fucking second to grab Abbey’s head, pressing my palms over her ears before Smitty pulls the trigger.
Being this fucking close while we sit in a goddamn box, the sound of the shot amplifies, my ears explode with pain before they start fucking ringing.
With my eyes locked on my Angel’s, I can’t hide the pain twisting my face, and she quickly shoves my hands away from her ears, leaning over me to wind the window down.
