Blood sprayed warm across my cheek. Devon's body slumped against me.
I held onto him. Not out of sentiment but strategy.
Bullets tore through the warehouse like angry bees. I dragged his corpse in front of me, his limp weight absorbing the hits meant for my chest.
Crunch.
I pivoted, catching one of the others mid-sprint. I stepped into his momentum, rammed the heel of my boot into his knee with a crack, and as he dropped, I crushed his throat beneath my elbow in a sweeping arc.
Gun raised.
Bang. Another down.
I slid across the floor, dodging a bullet by inches, the heat searing past my jaw. I caught sight of one with his gun aimed too high. Rookie.
I charged. Spun. My elbow collided with his jaw, then I lifted my knee into his gut, ribs collapsing inward. Muay Thai 101, sweetheart.
He collapsed. Two more. I dropped to a crouch, shot one in the knee, then the head. The other hesitated, trembling.
"Go on," I said, standing, blood dripping from my sleeve. "Shoot me. Show me how much of a man you are."
He fired.
I ducked low, then rammed Devon's bloody gun into his stomach and fired point-blank.
The warehouse floor was a river of red now. Heavy breathing. Footsteps behind me.
I turned, two left.
One of them, face pale and trembling, was shouting into a phone. "H-he's still—He's still going! He's a fucking monster! We need backup—now!"
I tilted my head. "Aw," I said, voice sweet as sin. "You're not leaving already, are you?"
He dropped the phone. Too late. He had time to scream before I lunged.
My fist collided with his jaw so hard his head whipped to the side with a sickening crack. He stumbled. I was on him like a fucking animal. I jammed my knee into his gut, drove him backward into a pillar.
He kept shooting, wildly, blindly, like panic would save him. It didn't.
I caught his arm, twisted it behind his back, and when he screamed, I twisted harder.
Pop.
Another scream. Music.
He dropped the gun. I kicked it away, grabbed him by the neck, and slammed him onto the concrete.
"Crawl, then," I whispered, crouching beside his trembling body. "Let's see how far you get without your spine intact."
He whimpered. I stood and shot him in the back of the head.
One left.
He came at me like a desperate fucking fool. His bullets grazed air but I was already behind him.
I caught him by the collar, slammed him against the nearest wall so hard the drywall cracked. He tried to headbutt me. Cute.
I smiled.
Then I headbutted him. Once. Twice. His skull gave a little.
His eyes rolled, dazed. "Wh—"
Boom. I blew his head clean off.
I exhaled heavily, sweat, blood, and smoke clinging to my lungs.
But then…
Pain.
Hot. Sharp.
Low, near my ribs.
My body jolted as I stumbled forward. I turned…
One of the bastards I'd shot earlier, crawling, bloody, somehow still alive was holding a pistol with both trembling hands.
"Motherfucker," I hissed.
Bang.
One last mercy shot, right between his eyes. I touched my side.
Blood. A lot of it.
I growled under my breath and staggered toward the car. My hands were slick and shaking, but I was running on adrenaline, barely.
Then… Headlights. Engines. More vans. One. Two.
Doors flew open. Men piled out like insects, armed to the teeth. I stood my ground for half a second, lips twitching in a grin.
"You boys really brought a party, huh?"
I didn't even have the time to think.
I yanked the car door open, slamming it shut behind me as bullets pinged off the metal. I floored the gas.
The car roared forward.
I swerved hard, taking out two of them beneath my wheels. I didn't even feel the bumps.
Gunfire chased me. The rear windshield exploded. I didn't stop. Couldn't. My vision blurred. I kept pressure on the bleeding wound, but my shirt was soaked. I could feel the heat, the wetness, leaking down into my waistband.
"Fuck," I spat.
My breath hitched. Pain was climbing up my spine. The city lights flickered ahead, glittering like salvation. They were still behind me.
I swerved off the main road, tires screeching as I veered toward the busiest downtown intersection. Horns, lights, chaos.
Good.
I'd let the bastards chase me into the chaos. Let's see who's still standing when the world starts watching.
The city exploded into view like a fever dream. Lights, Horns, Chaos, all blended into a beautiful chaotic mess.
I took a hard left, no signal, no care and rammed the front of a Toyota, sending it spinning into oncoming traffic. Screams. Tires screeched. Horns blared behind me.
That was good enough to let the noise cover me. Still another van was gaining on my tail. I glanced into the mirror. "Persistent little shits."
I swerved, threaded between two buses, ignoring the burn tearing through my side. My hand was slick on the wheel, blood soaking the leather.
The lights above turned red. I didn't slow down. I punched the gas, roaring through the intersection as a delivery truck barely missed clipping me.
The van behind me wasn't so lucky.
CRASH.
I didn't look back. I couldn't. My vision was starting to flicker, the edges of my sight greying out like a dying TV screen.
"Come on," I muttered. "Not now."
Another turn. A sharper one this time. The tires lifted slightly off the ground, but I didn't let up. I needed to disappear. Fast. I cut into a narrow road, clipped a street lamp, shattered the passenger mirror.
Gunshots rang behind me, one of the vans had caught up. "Persistent and stupid," I gritted out.
I slammed the brakes, yanked the handbrake, spun the car in a violent drift, and pulled my sidearm. Through the broken window, I fired three clean shots, two to the driver, one to the front tire.
The van veered off, crashing straight into a florist's shop. Petals and blood. But the next one was already behind me. I punched the wheel. "Fucking roaches."
Then,
A corner that was too fast, too sharp and too late.
My tires screamed. My body launched forward as the car flipped, rolling twice, metal groaning, glass exploding until it slammed upside down into a lamppost in some quiet, godforsaken alley.
Silence.
Smoke coiled from the hood. I didn't move. Couldn't. The frantic screams of passer-by blurred into the background. Everything ached. My ears rang. My face was wet with blood? Sweat? Both?
Then I moved. I had to.
I kicked the door open with what was left of my strength and dragged myself out, coughing, swaying.
"Fuck me," I hissed, stumbling forward. Blood poured down my side. My shirt stuck to me like a second skin. I wasn't going to die like this. Not like a tossed rat. I reached for my phone. Cracked to hell. The screen was black, splintered like broken glass. Useless.
"Of course it is," I muttered, dragging in a breath through clenched teeth.
I slumped against the wall, trying to force my brain to work, to think. Kyle should've been on standby. I needed him. I needed—
But the phone was dead, and so was my damn luck. The world tilted sideways as I staggered deeper into the alley, away from the wreck. I could hear sirens, distant and growing.
"Too close."
I pressed my hand to the wall, dragging myself further, steps slowing.
Dizzy. Cold.
My breath was ragged now. But I kept walking. Didn't care that I was bleeding like a stuck pig. Didn't care that my heart was thundering in my ears.
I was still on my feet, still alive, still Kieran, the fucking executioner.
Although it seemed now I was the one about to be executed...
But if death wanted me tonight? He'd have to come collect me himself.