Page 68 of Whispers and Warriors
And so, as the door closed behind William and Alex, as the sounds of gunfire and chaos echoed in the distance, Emma closed her eyes and prayed. Prayed for strength, for hope, for the love that bound them all together. Prayed that somehow, against all odds, they would find their way back to each other, forever and always.
Alex watchedin disbelief at what he saw as he emerged topside, at the lengths they took to save themselves, or perhaps flee because he had no way of knowing who was who if they weren’t female. It was far worse than when he’d gone to patch up Liam.
People scrambled over the railings and dropped into the churning waters below. There was no telling how much danger would be in the water with bullets and explosions, but he had no doubt into the water was the wrong choice if the ship wasn’t going down.
Which it somehow wasn’t.
In fact, he couldn’t see flames any longer, or the swaddle of flames, just sparks of gunfire in the smoke.
His senses heightened to an electrifying intensity, as a torrent of adrenaline surged relentlessly through his veins. The once orderly deck erupted into a maelstrom of sheer chaos, with piercing screams and frantic shouts tearing through the salty air like jagged knives, each sound sharp and unyielding. The atmosphere crackled with tension, as though the very air itself was charged with electricity.
Alex let his gaze sweep the deck, taking stock of his brothers-in-arms. Bash and Chris were off to his left, weapons drawn and at the ready. William guarded their rear flank, his rifle steadied against his broad shoulder. They’d been through hell together, an unbreakable bond forged in the crucible of this apocalyptic nightmare. Alex knew he could count on them with his life.
The thrum of helicopter blades sliced through the pandemonium, an ominous harbinger amidst the unfolding mayhem.
That sound, it didn’t belong.
A sinking realization hit Alex like a punch to the gut. Something was very, very wrong.
Helicopters and planes were incredibly dangerous with no one on the ground to monitor their activity and hundreds of people who would shoot them down for supplies. What the fuck was going on? This was a coordinated attack, but was it for one person on board, or the whole group?
But as his eyes lifted to the approaching chopper, a cold dread seeped into his bones. The silhouettes of armed men could be seen, poised to repel and attack. Whoever sent them was determined, organized. This was no ragtag band of raiders.
“Will!” Alex shouted over the roar of the rotors. “North side! We’ve got company!”
William pivoted, already moving to intercept. “I see them! We need to hold the line!”
Alex aimed his rifle at the descending attackers, his finger hovering over the trigger. He would have sworn they were military with how they moved, but their uniforms were black with a white logo he couldn’t make out.
His heart hammered against his ribs, but his hands were steady. He would die before he let any harm come to Emma or the others. With a world as destroyed as theirs, love was the only thing worth fighting for. And he would defend it to his final breath.
“Chris!” Bash’s gruff voice cut through the chaos, barely audible over the thundering gunfire and shouts of the attackers. “We need a plan, now!”
Alex’s gaze darted to Chris, his jaw set with grim determination as he assessed the situation. The leader’s eyes blazed with an intensity that never failed to inspire their unit. “Our priority is the ship and the women,” Chris declared, his voice carrying the weight of command. “We hold the line, no matter the cost.”
As if on cue, a hail of bullets tore through the air, the sharp cracks echoing across the deck. Alex ducked instinctively,his heart pounding in his chest as adrenaline surged through his veins. He returned fire without hesitation, his movements fluid and precise, honed by countless battles and a lifetime of training.
Time seemed to slow as Alex fell into the familiar rhythm of combat. The world narrowed to the sight of his weapon, the feel of the trigger beneath his finger, and the burning need to protect and survive. He could feel the presence of his team at his back even when he couldn’t see them, a silent reminder that he was not alone in this fight.
Alex’s mind raced as he tried to make sense of the attack. The ship was supposed to be a haven, a chance at a new beginning. But now, as bullets whizzed past his head and the cries of the wounded filled the air, he realized that even the promise of sanctuary was not immune to the cruelty of this shattered world.
“Alex, on your left!” Bash warned, his voice cutting through the haze of battle.
Alex pivoted, his rifle at the ready, and fired a burst of rounds at the approaching enemy. The recoil was a familiar jolt, grounding him in the moment. He could feel the sweat beading on his brow, the salt stinging his eyes, but he refused to yield.
The deck had become a battlefield, a chaotic whirlwind of clashing forces and flying lead. But even amidst the mayhem, Alex could see the unwavering resolve in the eyes of his brothers. They were a unit, bound by loyalty and a shared purpose, and they would fight to the bitter end.
As the relentless onslaught continued, Alex grew more on edge. People kept spilling out of the helicopter it seemed. They needed to find a way to turn the tide, to secure the ship and ensure the safety of the women on board. But with each passing moment, the odds seemed to stack against them.
Alex refused to lose hope. He had seen the depths of human resilience, the unbreakable spirit that could rise from the ashesof destruction. And as he fought side by side with his comrades, he knew that they would find a way to triumph, no matter the sacrifice.
A bullet scraped past Alex’s cheek, the searing heat of its passage a vivid reminder of the razor’s edge they walked. Pain, like pressure on a blister, erupted and he knew the damn thing had skimmed his cheek.
With lightning reflexes, he pivoted, his weapon steady in his hands as he locked onto an approaching enemy. The recoil of the shot was a familiar sensation, grounding him amidst the chaos that engulfed the deck.
“Alex, on your six!” Bash’s voice cut through the cacophony, urgent and commanding.
Alex spun again, his finger already on the trigger as he spotted the attacker emerging from behind a stack of crates. The man’s eyes widened in surprise, a moment before Alex’s bullet found its mark. The enemy crumpled, his weapon clattering to the ground.
