Page 23 of Savage Obsession
Tap. Tap.
I hit center mass both times. They collapse like puppets with cut strings.
“Two more down,” I call out, voice even.
“Copy.” Ash answers from nearby.
“Right side clear!” Beast yells and I know that man means it. He takes special pride in offing men who hurt those who are weaker. Every Vulture we’ve ended tonight does exactly that and worse. Much worse.
“Tree line,” Reaper snaps. “Eyes sharp. We have more.”
We fan out again. Guns go off and I hear the souls leave Vulture bodies one after the other.
The Vultures came in here hungry and stupid. They don’t know anything about our land. They don’t know the dips in the ground where the rain eats, the deadfall that trips a man who’s never run a mile with his life in his hands, the blind corners. They’re firing at sound out of fear and wasting their rounds.
We’re firing with intent. One bullet. One body.
A Vulture barrels out from a clump of brush, screaming something about my mother. I put a single round through his thigh to keep him from plowing into Ash’s lane. He goes down hard, drops his gun, and reaches for it like some dumbass hero wannabe. Beast’s boot comes down on the wrist. Bones crack like fragile ice. The man’s howls tear through the night and I have to say, that sounded like it hurt.
I keep moving. There’s only one man I’m really after. There’s no way he isn’t here tonight.
My world narrows to only the surrounding space. He’s close. I can feel it.
The fire behind me roars, eating the roof with greedy orange teeth. I can rebuild it.
Footsteps crunch slowly across behind me.
I turn just as Willow’s father steps out of the trees with that rotten grin smeared across his ugly face. I’ve hated it for a long time now.
“Finally found enough courage to come out and face me?”
Two Vultures flank him, jittery as fuck and scanning the treeline waiting for my brothers to step out of the darkness.
Drudge Caine doesn’t take his eyes off me. He knows better than to look away from the devil.
The aging man is shorter than me, thicker around the middle than I last remember. He has dead black eyes and hasn’t changed his shirt in at least a week. Spittle from his chewing tobacco trails down his chin. He holds his weapon aimed at the center of my forehead.
Good, I don't want to kill a man who doesn’t want to fight back.
Everything else fades away. The fire becomes a hush. My brothers hold the perimeter. The wind lets up as if it wants to listen, too. This is my fight and when this man’s soul leaves his body, I don’t want any interruptions. I want to watch it get swallowed up by the ground and taken straight to hell. Or wherever the fuck evil men like him end up.
I take a single step forward and full step out of the shadows.
“Everyone good?” I call back to my brothers. “Is anyone shot or dead?”
One by one, they sound off—Reaper, Beast, Ash, Storm and Roman. A chorus of I’m good, clear, standing. Cipher’s voice comes thin from near the shed, pissed but alive. That means he’s probably got grazed by a bullet.
After the last okay, I give all my attention to the man who made the woman I love run through a blizzard.
“I guess that leaves me with only one more task for the evening and then we can wash our hands of the Vultures. We told you the day would come when you would eat a Savage Bullet. I’m frankly surprised we’ve allowed you to live this long.”
Flat lips pull back to show stained teeth. “You don’t have the balls to shoot me in the face while looking me in the eye, boy.”
Grudge spits that wad of tobacco juice at my feet, staining the snow.
“I dare ya to do something that will make that stupid kid of mine see you for the monster you really are.”
I take another step. The Vulture president falters a bit and I take the opening. One second he has a gun pointed at me and in the other his weapon is mine.
