Page 61 of Calypso's Shield
I exhale hard. Stubborn as ever. “You don’t have to. You just have to be smart.”
“I am smart,” she fires back. “And smart means I fight for what’s mine.”
Fuck. I love her.
I lean in, pressing my forehead against hers, my grip tightening at her waist. “Just promise me,” I murmur, “you won’t do anything reckless.”
She smirks. “We both know that’s a lie.”
I growl low in my throat but let it go. There’s no changing Calypso. And honestly, I wouldn’t want to.
“Alright,” Capone calls out, dragging everyone’s attention. The Prez of the Royal Bastards stands in front of the long wooden table, his expression lethal. “Reyes and Grant are holed up at one of Grant’s properties outside the city. A fucking mansion surrounded by security, but nothing we can’t handle.”
Blayze leans forward. “How many men?”
Capone cracks his knuckles. “Enough to make it interesting.”
I roll my neck, feeling the tension in my bones. “Then let’s end this.”
Capone nods. “Bastards take the front. Harlots use the tunnels and take out any guards in the perimeter. We move fast. We move hard. No survivors.”
A round of agreement rumbles through the room, and then we’re moving. Guns loaded, vests strapped on. The roar of engines shakes the ground as we take off into the night, heading straight for war.
The moment we roll up to the mansion, the first shot cracks through the air, and then all hell breaks loose. Gunfire erupts, the roar of bikes cutting through the chaos as we descend like demons onto the property.
Capone, Blayze, and I storm the front, bullets ripping through the air as we take down the first line of guards. To my left, Trigger and Torch cut through another group, knives flashing in the dim light as bodies drop like dead weight.Red, Derange, Pretty Boy, and Aftermath to my right, shooting anyone approaching with precision.
Knight and Rebel are outside the range of fire with their sniper rifles, picking off anyone we might miss.
The Harlots move fast, coming in from the side and picking off Grant’s men with brutal efficiency. Calypso stays back, just like we agreed, but even from where I am, I can see the way she moves, calculated and lethal, covering our six like she was born for this.
I make my way toward the house, my blood pounding, my only goal, Reyes. I see him through one of the windows. The bastard is running. Not today, motherfucker.
I kick down the door, dodging a bullet as one of Grant’s men lunges at me. I grab him by the throat, slam him into the wall, and put a bullet through his skull. Blood splatters on me, but I don’t give a shit. This is war, and there’s no time to hesitate.
Reyes is at the back, climbing into a car.
“Fuck no,” I growl, sprinting forward. I fire at the tires, taking them out just as the engine revs. The car skids. Reyes scrambles out, panic flashing in his eyes.
“Dalton,” he sneers, gun in hand. “Should’ve stayed in your lane.”
I cock my gun. “You should’ve stayed in prison.”
I put a bullet between Reyes’s eyes and watch the bastard crumple like deadweight. My breath saws out of me, my pulse still a rapid, vicious drumbeat. One problem down, but not the biggest one.
The scent of blood and gunpowder hangs thick in the air. The mansion is a goddamn war zone. Bodies litter the ground, smoke curls from bullet-riddled walls, and the sounds of men dying fill the night.
I turn, scanning the chaos around me. “Where the fuck is Grant?”
Blayze jogs up, reloading his gun. “He’s not out front. Back entrance?”
A scream cuts through the gunfire. I whip around just in time to see one of Grant’s men dragging him toward a black SUV, his face twisted in panic. Motherfucker.
I lift my gun, lining up the shot.
BOOM!
The mansion explodes. Flames erupt from inside the house, a shockwave tearing through the air and knocking me back a few steps. Heat singes my skin as debris rains down around us. Smoke billows up, swallowing everything in black.
