Page 41 of Victorious: Part 3
Neon’s eyes light up. “Oh, hell yes. Give me two minutes.”
“Just finish the download and hurry the fuck up.”
Seconds later, Neon’s voice breaks through, “Upload’s done! Data’s in the cloud and in media inboxes around the globe. We’re clear, Pres!”
“Good. Now flood this shithole!”
Gold tooth’s eyes widen as I spin to face him, smile, and don’t hesitate pulling the trigger, unloading a single shot into the middle of his forehead. His body flies back, landing on the carpet with a thud next to his asshole buddies.
I spin back to Neon. “How long do we have?” I ask, but he doesn’t even get to answer me before the building groans and the fire suppression system kicks in like a damn tsunami. Water blasts from every sprinkler head, pouring in torrents from the ceiling. Desks, monitors, and high-end electronics sizzle and spark. The air fills with smoke while hair clings to my face.
“Fire department’s gonna be all over this,” I shout to my team. “So, we’re leavin’ in firefighter gear.”
Wraith yells over the roar, “We don’thavefirefighter gear.”
“Yet,” I reply, keying my comm. “Texas, first responders’ll be inbound in minutes. I need gear. Helmets, jackets, everythin’.”
“How much?” Texas radios back.
“For eleven.”
Texas doesn’t ask questions. “On it.”
The doors to the hallway explode inward, wood splinters flying across the room. Cartel soldiers storm through, with theirweapons raised. But this time, we’re ready.
The roar of gunfire is deafening as they open fire. Kevlar takes a round to the shoulder, the impact knocking him backward. But he’s up again in seconds, roaring like a beast and returning fire with everything he’s got.
Wraith drops three men with clean, efficient shots. The head, the chest, the chest again like he’s running a damn drill.
Fox slams a boot through a locked drawer, grabs armfuls of hard drives and documents, and tosses them into a bin already half full of water. The soaked paperwork and documents stand no chance as water rains down around us.
Across the room, Nickel and Chains are moving like a two-man wrecking crew. Chains advances, shotgun blazing, blowing holes through bodies and drywall alike. Nickel is tight behind him, covering the flanks, one eye always on his brother.
They push forward, clearing the hallway toward the stairs, until a soldier steps out of the shadows behind Chains, blade drawn, going in for a kill strike.
“Chains,” I scream, but it’s Nickel who reacts first. He dives between the soldier and Chains, taking the full force of the blade to his side. The steel bites deep, Nickel gritting his teeth, twisting the attacker’s wrist until the bones snap. I tense, starting to run, the same time Chains moves to help, but we’re both too late. The Cartel soldier brings up his other hand, shooting Nickel point-blank in the chest.
My body jerks as if I were shot, seeing one of my brothers go down right in front of me.
Chains spins, his voice hoarse. “Nickel!” His eyes rage with anger as he unleashes a barrage of bullets into the soldier, his body slamming into the wall with the multiple hits, then slides down with brute force, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.
Nickel drops to his knees, blood already pouring through his fingers. Chains shifts dramatically and catches Nickel before hefully hits the floor, cradling him in his arms, fury and heartbreak etched into his face. “Don’t do this, you son of a bitch. Don’t you fucking do this to me.”
I slide in beside the two of them as shots continue to echo around us, Chains holding onto Nickel like his life depends on it, while water pours down from the sprinklers overhead, making Nickel’s blood look like a red river surrounding us.
He grips Chains’ hand, weakly smiling at him. “I got your back, brother… I always did,” Nickel rasps. He smiles faintly, blood staining his teeth. “It was worth it… I’m glad I found my way back to you, Ty.”
Chains’ eyes flood with tears as he shakes his head. “Shh, don’t talk, save your strength. You know Chills is gonna be pissed if you die on me, because I’ll get fucking mad, and then she’ll get mad at me for being fucking mad, and it will be allyourfault. So, you can’t fucking die on me, Luc.”
With the roar of gunfire continuing around us, a Cartel soldier barrels toward us with deadly intent, rifle raised, and my instinct takes over. I launch myself at him before he can take aim, slamming into his chest with the full weight of my body to protect Chains while he shares his last moments with his best friend.
We crash into the conference table behind him, the impact knocking chairs flying and scattering papers like shrapnel. He grunts, fists already flying. One catches me in the ribs, hard enough to crack something.
“Fuck!” I growl, pain sears through my side, but I don’t stop. I wrap my arms around his middle and drive him backward, pinning him against a bookshelf. We grapple like animals, no rhythm or finesse, just raw rage and brute force.
He gets a hand free and slashes a knife across my back. The agony slices through me, scorching my skin like flames through the deluge. I roar through clenched teeth, my torso twisting,as blood instantly soaks through my club cut. My fist flies up instinctively, connecting with his jaw, once, twice, before he shoves me off with enough force to send me sprawling over a fallen office chair.
My body aches like a motherfucker while the bastard charges again. I roll to the side just as he slams a heavy paperweight down right where my head was. It smashes the chair armrest instead, the metal armrest cracking off and dropping into a pool of water on the floor.
