Page 86 of Breathe
That was fine with Stone, his specialty was moving through the dark. Like Real and Rip, there wasn’t a perp on earth who was a match to their skills. Unless it was another assassin. Then they might have problems, but thugs that worked for a child molester were not going to be a problem.
Real shot out the lights, and because this part of the house was underground, there were no windows. That left only the light coming in via the hallway. It was enough for him to see as the room plunged into darkness. They were at a disadvantage because the perps knew the layout and they did not, but they had an edge.
Genesis worked in the darkness.
The soft snicks of silencers going off and the clash of knives hitting swept through the room. Real, Rip, and Stone worked together. With Stone on his left and Rip on his right, Real cleaved his way through the perps as they came up at them through the darkness.
Sounds of grunting, gasping, and gagging plus the smell of piss and blood filled the air. Real jabbed his knife into one man’s leg and put a bullet in the guy’s head before moving on.
On either side of him, Stone and Rip worked the same. Although Rip seemed to prefer his knives and Stone his gun, Real preferred both.
It became clear in moments that there were far more perps than appeared. Stone’s eyes adjusted further, and he noticed a far door had opened.
A faint light trickled through from the new entrance, and more of Micky’s men poured into the room.
“Send backup,” Real murmured through the comms, along with their coordinates.
“Copy. We’re working our way to you as fast as we can. Whoever is closest get the fuck there now!” Viper ordered.
Real understood Viper’s worry. If Genesis said to send backup, then shit was hitting the fan and with the number of perps coming at them, Real started to worry for the three of them.
Around that time, Real got a weird sensation in his gut, but shook it off. He didn’t have time to assess his feelings as he cleaved and shot his way through the oncoming men.
It wasn’t until he heard a body thump to the floor behind him that he spun around and realized what the feeling in his gut actually was.
Azrael stood behind him, blades dripping with blood in both hands, and a dead perp at his feet.
The young assassin had been so stealthy, so fucking quiet, Real hadn’t even heard him. The perp had been quiet also, so that meant they were dealing with assassins. It made sense because Tanis and Solomon both had ties to assassins, and Titus was Tanis’ brother.
Stepping over the dead body, Azrael brushed against his arm on his way past, and Real realized a second thing, Azrael was not alone. Freedom and Boston were with him.
All the YA were dressed in black with hooded beanies and armed to the teeth.
Real wanted to pull Azrael to him and kiss him, but he settled for quickly gripping the back of the younger man’s neck and then letting him go. He had to trust that Azrael could take care of himself.
He just saved your life, Real silently reminded himself. Azrael brushed one gloved hand down his arm and bicep before moving ahead of him in the darkness.
Real felt the younger man’s touch in his soul.
He didn’t repeat the wordsstay safe, because they had already been said.
Now, he just continued his work.
This time it was different, he and Azrael worked like a well-oiled machine. They didn’t only face forward, but they spun, like dancers in the night.
When Azrael sliced, Real put bullets in perps, and they would spin and do the same to any they came across.
The young assassins were fucking good and it took only a few moments for Real to realize that. These boys might have been thrown into this way of life without a choice, but they fucking owned it. They were skilled, lethal, and swept through the room without fear.
It was amazing to watch.
Azrael’s only fear was that a bullet would hit Real, and while they all wore bulletproof vests, there was nothing that could protect someone’s head.
Working with Real made him hyperaware of everything as he cleaved his way through men spilling into the room. It boggled the mind over just how many hired guns Micky had there.
The business of snatching and selling children must be booming. It was human trafficking at its worst.
Gunfire, flesh slapping from hand-to-hand combat, and grunts filled the semi-darkness along with the metallic sting of blood. It would take him days to clear the memory of the smell from his nose.
