Page 45 of Avenging Devil: Part 2

“Sorry, Prez,” the man mumbles, then prepares again.

I brace myself for more pain to come, but before the mallet reaches the zenith of its swing, four explosions go off simultaneously, filling the clubhouse with smoke and dust. The building groans ominously, and parts of the ceiling begin to fall.

“What the fuck?” Knife, hit by a piece of plaster brushes himself off. For a second, he’s stunned, then, as flames start licking around the old wooden panelling, he screams out, “We’re under attack! Get ready to defend!”

“Defend fuckin’ what?” Croak yells, his voice full of panic. “This whole fuckin’ place is coming down.”

Other Wolves aren’t waiting. They’re rushing for the door, almost stampeding each other in an effort to escape.

“Calm!” Knife yells, but uselessly. Still, he tries. “Get the motherfuckers, Brothers. We’re better than anyone who’s coming for us.”

As soon as the door opens, gunfire sounds. The doorway is a confusion of men trying to get out to escape the flames and those trying to get back inside.

Another boom sounds from the rear of the building, and all of a sudden, the back wall completely slides down.

I grin, knowing it’s the Devils who’ve come to my rescue, pleased that the Crazy Wolves will be taken out, but sad in the knowledge it will come too late to save me. The way this building is coming down, I’ll be buried and smothered if the flames and smoke don’t kill me first. Hold on, Saffie. Wait for me.

I can go with a smile on my face. Knife and his band of white supremacists have reached the end of the line. If the Devil is coming to get me, I can go out with a smile.

Saffie, my only regret is I didn’t avenge you.

Jesus, there’s another explosion behind me. In a blind panic, Knife and his Wolves desperately try to make it out. The doorway becomes a bottleneck.

Suddenly, a whole crowd of bodies and body parts come flying into the room, splattering me with blood, and a disembodied hand hits my face. Hell, someone fired something substantial at them, a mortar, perhaps? But where the fuck did the Devils get that kind of artillery?

The smoke and dust are getting into my lungs. My leg and foot are throbbing with pain so intense it would be easy to give in and pass out, but I struggle to stay conscious, macabrely wanting to stay alert to see how this plays out.

I’ll die happy if I see Knife die painfully.

The president of the Crazy Wolves doesn’t seem to know which way to turn. Belatedly, he realises his men are sitting ducks trying to get out the front. Failing to make his voice heard above the gunfire, screams, and shouts, he resorts to physically pulling back his men and turning them around.

Windows at the sides of the building start to be smashed out. Half a dozen Wolves make it through, then rapid gunfire sounds. Their falling bodies serve as a caution for others trying to take that way out.

Despite my discomfort and my imminent death, I take great delight in the massacre going on around me, hoping I’ll stay alive. So far, no bullet has come near me, but it’s only a matter of time. If I’m not caught by a friendly bullet, some of the Wolves cast glances my way with murder in their eyes, showing they haven’t forgotten me.

Crashes and smaller explosions, which make what’s still standing of the building shudder, sound from the rear once again. Turning my eyes from the men trying to get out, I twist my head to see what’s happening behind me.

Men in leather are swarming in, but not in the haphazard formation of the Wolves. No, these are like some well-oiled machine. A front line of body-armour-clad men carrying rifles drop to their knees allowing the men behind to fire over their heads. Despite the hysterical random firing coming their way, the attackers aren’t wasting bullets.

The line is approaching as more and more enemy bodies hit the ground. Not all the attackers are safe though, as I watch in horror more than one man fall to the ground. One, I see, clutching his leg. Not men from my club, they must be from another chapter. I hope he’s not hurt too badly and am relieved when he gives a quick shake of his head.

The organised men wearing Kevlar armour continue coming in, handling weapons as though they were an extension of their arms. We’re the best in the business, I think proudly. Devils have many vets to call on, and in true brotherhood fashion, hadn’t lost their skills. Some Wolves might have had the same training, but had become lax with easy money, or the reason for their discharge meant they hadn’t possessed the same proficiency in the first place.

They can’t get organised, rushing around like headless chickens. Knife might be a leader when it comes to capturing helpless women, but he’s got no idea about assembling a fighting force. It’s every man for themselves as a killing machine approaches them. Wolves firing blindly, Devils make the most of each shot.

Someone I don’t recognise catches a bullet to the shoulder, but he just moves his rifle to his good hand and continues on, taking out the man who shot him, and another after that.

I wince seeing Ink, who I know as he’s married to Patsy’s daughter, take a bullet to his chest, causing him to double over. Even wearing armour, that will have hurt, but as he falls to his knee, another replaces him.

Wolves run outside, seemingly into an ambush, while those inside continue to drop. Knife’s down. Finished, I add to myself, seeing his rolled up vacant eyes. I sigh with relief.

Now my attention is caught by two men I do recognise, Pennywise and Salem. Pennywise is a sniper with a record for an impressive long-distance kill shot, but he’s equally good at close range I decide, as I watch him accurately putting a couple of the Wolves down.

Then, suddenly Salem is running my way.

“You breathing?” He tosses the words at me over his shoulder as he takes up a position which shields me from the front.

“Yeah. Free my hands and give me a fuckin’ gun,” I demand.

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