Page 122 of The Fire We Crave

“Too many of us in this house,” I say.

“Then I have no use for you,” Lev says.

Life changes in a heartbeat. Just like a fire dances with the wind. You can’t control it. You can’t predict it. You just know that, in the moment that follows, your existence will never be the same again.

My heart races when Lev starts to tip his head to the man holding the gun.

I feel the incremental dig of the metal barrel against my skull as the henchman readies to blow my skull apart.

As I remember Quinn’s story of the woman whose life changed based on whether she made it through a sliding door, I fall onto the crystal ashtray. With one spin, I throw the ashes into Lev’s face before slamming the glass into the side of his henchman’s skull.

Because I’m not dying here.

I’m not dying today.

And I’m not causing Quinn even a moment’s pain.

The gun skitters along the floor.

The henchman goes down.

And Lev Zakharov fumbles around, brushing his hands over his face as he coughs and splutters.

There’s an agonizing roar in my ribs because my scars tug and pull, but I can’t think of that until I get to the gun.

Lev realizes what my plan is and dives for it too. He’s faster than I am. But I’m meaner.

Instead of trying to battle him for the weapon, I kick him hard in the shoulder.

His scream of pain is met with my own yell. “Atom!”

I grab the weapon and fire it straight into the skull of the man who dared to hold a gun to mine.

“Fucker.” I fire three rounds into him, then aim the gun straight at Lev’s forehead. “Don’t even think about moving.”

Atom charges into the room, weapon drawn, his face intense. “Zakharov.”

Knowing that I have a weapon trained on Lev, Atom holsters his weapon. Blood seeps through Lev’s sling, which suggests that my shot the other day not only hit, but did the kind of damage that required surgery.

“We got him,” I say.

Ignoring the injury, Atom hoists Lev onto a chair, then punches his face so hard that he rocks straight off it.

The gun fight carries on around us, but we have to trust our brothers can take care of themselves.

“Fuck you,” Lev cries. “My family will kill you for this.”

“Yeah,” I say. “But you’ll be too dead to see it.”

Atom chuckles and pulls Lev back onto the chair, only to punch him straight back off it. “Getting knocked to the ground gets old, doesn’t it?” Atom asks.

Lev groans and manages to roll onto his knees.

“Get back on the fucking chair,” I say. “It’ll hurt more if I have to do it.”

Clumsily, he stumbles to his feet, and this time, I whip out a zip tie and fasten his hands behind his back. As I do, more gunfire breaks out in the house. “He’s all yours,” I tell Atom, as I retrieve my own weapon and run into the hallway.

“Fuck, no!” I hear Wraith yell. “Butcher.”

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