One Hundred and Thirty-Six Scars(84)

“What happened?”

“They drew faster than us. He’s sitting out… should be safe there until this shit is done.”

“Don’t tell me you left him unattended, Hella!”

“Nah, Skid is there.”

“Yeah, all right. Stick to the plan.”

“Roger.”

Pushing the walkie-talkie down, I bring my head up to the tall lookout tower that sits in the corner of the property. Dropping the duffel bag to the ground with the sound of gunshots ringing out in the distance, I pull out the grenade launcher, hitching it onto my shoulder before I look through the scope. Aiming it at the middle of the tower I launch it into the concrete, the flames ignite and the tower comes crumbling down. Chuckling under my breath, I push the launcher back into the bag and swing it over my shoulder.

“You good?” Nyx asks, bringing his gun back up.

“Yeah, just wanted to do that for a long time.”

He nods his head before stepping in front. “Let’s go.”

We make our way to one of the back doors of the main building and I pull out my .45 and shoot out the locks, kicking the doors in with my feet.

“It’s fucking quiet,” Hannibal stirs next to me.

“Too quiet,” I answer, walking into the darkness. We make our way to the silver stairs that sit to the left of where we came through and start walking down them.

“What sort of sick shit do they have going here?” Gunnar asks from behind Nyx.

“You’ll soon see,” I answer. Gunnar is new, he’s been prospecting for almost a year. How he acts on this run will determine whether he gets patched in on his one-year anniversary.

We walk down the silver steps, our heavy boots thumping underneath the soles of our feet. When we reach the bottom, I look around, attempting to adapt my eyes to the darkness.

The lights flick on suddenly and surrounding us is an army of soldiers, in every angle with their weapons pulled. I chuckle to myself. “Figures.”

Glancing to the side of me, I begin counting how many there are in this very room and I’m heading toward twelve—against our six. The five men who are standing in front of us with their rifles drawn, standing in their armed defender armory, begin to part like the Red Sea.

“Well, well, well…” a familiar voice pierces my ears like nails to a chalkboard. Brian comes strolling out, wiping his knife off with a white cloth. “If it isn’t my favorite soldier.”

“I was never your soldier,” I seethe, bringing my gun back up and raising it right between his eyes. Cocking my head, I picture myself pulling the trigger, his blood and brains raining down on me in splatters of redemption.

“You might want to put that gun down, son. I have double on you.”

“Maybe I don’t care?” I say, keeping my gun drawn. “Maybe I have nothing to lose?”

He chuckles, walking closer. “We all know that’s a lie, Beast. Little Meadow is something you could lose? Am I not correct?” His ginger hair still sits roughly on the top of his head and his beard is still hanging low.

“Maybe,” I answer, smirking at him. “Or, maybe not.” I shrug. “After all, it was your training that took all of the human out of me and replaced it with a hard-ass replica.”

“Beast?” Hella’s voice comes out of the walkie-talkie again. I narrow my eyes at Brian, who nods his head. “You might want to check on 666, Beast. I hear he made a slip-up.”

Unclipping the walkie-talkie off my jeans, I keep my eyes locked on Kurr and bring it to my mouth.

“What?” I answer, my voice shallow and low.

“We’re surrounded.”

“Ditto.”

Turning off the walkie-talkie, I bring my attention back to Kurr. “What is it you want? If you wanted to kill me, you had plenty opportunity to do so. What do you want?”

“Well…” he begins, “…you came in here, blew up my spot and killed a few useful men.”

“So, I don’t care. What do you want?” I repeat, my breathing dipping into shallow territory.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He smirks. “You.”

“You could have had me. Why be so theatrical with it?”

He steps around one of the men, who still hasn’t moved, and comes closer. “You know I prefer a good chase, Beast.” He stops, tilting his head. “Or maybe you don’t remember.”

Clenching my jaw together, I drop my gun. “Fine,” I say, smirking at him. “Take me, let my men go.”

He laughs, narrowing his eyes at me. “Really? That’s your only ask?”

I nod. “Yeah, it is. Take me and me only, let my men walk out.”