Page 36 of Viking
The gunfire at the main gate had intensified, the crack of rifles punctuated by the deeper boom of Tank’s shotgun.I needed to get back, to help coordinate our defense, but every instinct screamed to check on Karoline and Athena first.
My house was dark, the barricaded windows visible from where I stood.No movement, no sign of breach.They were still safe, for now.But I needed to end this quickly.
I pressed my hand to my earpiece.“Wire, what’s the count?”
“Eight hostiles confirmed down,” his voice came back, steady despite the chaos I could hear in the background.“Four or five still active at the main gate.They’re falling back to the SUVs.There were a few more than we’d estimated.”
“Keep the pressure on,” I ordered, already moving back toward the main fight.“Don’t let them regroup.”
As I ran, blood cooling on my knuckles and my knife, I thought of Karoline in my bathroom, the most secure room in the house, holding Athena close.She was a smart woman, and I had no doubt that’s where she’d gone.I thought of the unfinished conversation in the hallway, the kiss that still burned on my lips.I thought of all the things I hadn’t said yet, all the promises I needed to keep.
They had come for what was mine, and they would pay for it.Every last one of them.
I rejoined the main fight with blood on my hands and rage in my heart.The compound had transformed into a war zone -- the air thick with gunpowder and shouted commands.But something had shifted in the minutes I’d been gone.Our brothers had found their rhythm.The attackers were being pushed back toward their vehicles, forced to abandon their precision for desperate survival.We were winning.
Savior caught my eye from his position behind an overturned picnic table, nodding once in grim acknowledgment.No words needed -- he’d held the line in my absence.Tank’s booming shotgun punctuated the cacophony of rifle fire from our rooftop positions.Three attackers lay motionless in the open space between their vehicles and our barricades.The rest had retreated to defensive positions, pinned down by our superior numbers.
“Viking!”Sticks called from my left.“We’ve got movement on the east side!”
I turned to see Sticks and Flicker crouched behind the garage wall, both focused on something I couldn’t see from my angle.Lincoln, one of our newest Prospects, was providing cover for them, his young face set with determination as he fired methodically from behind a stack of tires.
“Lincoln, hold position!”I shouted, already moving toward them.“Wait for backup!”
But the kid was eager to prove himself -- too eager.He broke cover, advancing to get a better angle on whatever Sticks had spotted.In the split second before it happened, I saw it all with crystal clarity -- the glint of a rifle barrel from the darkness beyond the garage, the unprotected expanse of Lincoln’s chest as he moved forward, the trajectory that would intersect fatally.
“Get down!”I roared, but it was too late.
Thecrackof the rifle came first, then the wetthudof the bullet finding its mark.Lincoln’s body jerked backward, his rifle clattering to the ground.For a moment -- one eternal, horrible moment -- he remained standing, a look of pure surprise on his face as he stared down at the spreading darkness on his chest.Then his knees buckled, and he collapsed like a puppet with cut strings.
“Covering fire!”I bellowed, racing toward the fallen Prospect.
Sticks and Flicker responded immediately, laying down suppressive fire toward the unseen shooter.But in their haste to cover Lincoln, they exposed themselves too much.The next burst of gunfire caught them both -- Sticks took a round to the shoulder, spinning him back against the wall with a pained grunt.Flicker went down clutching his thigh, blood seeping between his fingers.
I reached Lincoln first, dragging him behind the meager cover of the tire stack.His eyes were open but unfocused, blood bubbling from his lips with each labored breath.Twenty years old.Just joined us last month.The knowledge sat like lead in my gut as I pressed my hand to the wound in his chest, feeling the wetness pulse between my fingers.
“Stay with me, kid,” I urged, but I knew it was no use.The bullet had caught him center mass, probably tore through his heart.Nothing to be done.
Lincoln’s hand found my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong.“Did I… did I do good?”he asked, blood staining his teeth.
“You did good,” I lied again, because what else could I say to a dying boy?“Real good.”
His eyes fixed on something beyond me, beyond the compound, beyond this world.The grip on my wrist slackened.And just like that, Lincoln was gone.
A cold fury replaced the hot rage I’d felt earlier.I eased Lincoln’s body to the ground, then turned to assess the situation.Sticks had managed to drag himself and Flicker behind better cover.Blood soaked the sleeve of Sticks’s shirt, but he was still conscious, still firing his weapon one-handed toward the shooter’s position.
“Tank!”I shouted across the compound.“East side, need suppression!”
Tank didn’t hesitate, directing three brothers to shift their fire.I used the opportunity to dash to Sticks and Flicker’s position.
“How bad?”I asked, quickly checking Flicker’s leg.The bullet had torn through the meat of his thigh, missing the artery by an inch.
“I’ll live,” Flicker grunted, his face pale but determined.“Until Pepper sees me.Then I may die by her hand.”
Sticks nodded toward his shoulder.“Through and through.Hurts like a motherfucker, but I’m good.”
“Stay put,” I ordered, then keyed my radio.“Wire, status?”
“Two vehicles mobile, heading out,” Wire said.“Three attackers confirmed retreating on foot through the east woods.In addition to the twelve we’d spotted in the SUVs, it looks like they had nearly a dozen more on foot.”
