Page 35 of Hounds Ascend
Lilly: Someone’s here at the club house. Shots fired. I’m okay, but get here ASAP.
I press send, double check that it’s on silent, then slip it into my back pocket. I draw Cass’s nine and tiptoe into the hallway again. The sound of rummaging around downstairs makes me nervous. It sounds like it’s coming from the meeting room. Without further thought, I take the stairs as quickly and quietly as I can.
My heart is going to beat out of my chest, but I continue walking forward. I peer into the meeting room and find the back of a Moccasin cut facing me. He’s knelt down, trying to break into the cabinet behind the head chair. From what I can see, he doesn’t have a weapon. Good. I have the upper hand.
I keep the gun trained on the intruder and sneak up behind him. When I’m close enough to press the barrel into the back of his head, I do just that. He freezes in place and lifts his hands in surrender. I shove the cold metal harder into the back ofhis head, trying to scare him into not moving. I’ve never done anything like this before, and I’m surprised I’m keeping my cool. I don’t know how the gun hasn’t trembled out of my hands.
I need to say something to let him know that I mean business, but I’m scared if he realizes I’m a woman that he will somehow get the gun from me. I’ve seen it happen so many times on television, but I still don’t know what to expect.
I gather all the courage I have and channel some of my anger toward these bastards and find the nerve to speak.
“Don’t you fucking move.” My demand is met with a raspy chuckle, which only fuels my anger.
“Or what?” the man counters.
“I won’t hesitate to decorate that cabinet with pieces of your brain.” I dig deep inside myself to find the most stern, threatening voice I have.
He chuckles again but doesn’t move. I feel a bit bad ass because my warning appears to be working. For that, I’m relieved because that last thing I want is blood on my hands. But if it comes down to him or me, it’s going to be him. I’m scarred enough from watching Cass kill two men in front of me. Hell, I’m not even sure I could pull the trigger if hediddo something stupid.
“I’m going to remove this barrel from your head, and I want you to replace it with both your hands, interlocking your fingers.”
“Oh yeah? That’s what youwantme to do? Fuck you, bitch,” he spats, but doesn’t move.
I press the barrel as hard as I can into his head, his words only making me angry.
“I fucking said...” I grit, moving forward to press my foot in the center of his back. “To put your handshere.” I rear back and hit him with the barrel.
“Dammit,” he growls, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his head.
“I knew you’d come around to see it my way,” I purr.
“Again,fuck. You. Bitch.” He enunciates each word with hatred, pressing my buttons. I press hard with the foot that’s centered on his back until he’s flat on the floor. I stand with my feet on either side of him, still aiming at the motherfucker’s head in case he gets cocky.
He lands with an ‘oomf’ before things get out of hand. He’s laying flat on his stomach one minute, then the next he’s got my ankle in his hand and I’m sitting on my ass looking up at what I can only guess is another “throw-away”. His dark blue eyes are sunken in, and he has this empty, far-away look in his eyes.
Size is something that I don’t quite notice but when he stands up, I see just how big this man is. It isn’t that he’s muscular, but more so that he’s tall and broad. In fact, there isn’t any muscle on him, and he looks sickly. His arms are full of bruises and track marks, just like the others. Sitting here beneath him, I no longer feel like the badass that I thought I was moments before. The good thing is that somehow, I held onto the gun on my way to the ground. The bad thing is that he’s in a position to easily gain the upper hand.
I debate my next move, because whatever it’s going to be, it needs to be good. I haven’t shot a gun in months and I’m not that good at it. I don’t really understand the way aim really works because when I thought I was aiming at one thing, I hit the polar opposite.
What I do know is that I don’t want to kill this man, though I know he won’t hesitate to kill me if he gets his hands on this gun. I take a deep breath and lift the gun higher, pointing it at his head and hoping the look on my face is more on the deadly side than the terrified side.
“I bet you’ve never even shot a gun before.” When he speaks, I can see that he’s missing most of his teeth and the ones he does have are chipped or black.
“You willing to take that chance?” I ask, my eyes daring him to make a move all while I pray that he won’t. I don’t want to take a chance on firing this damn thing. Because if I miss, I’m fucked. No. If I miss, I’m dead.
As if by a miracle, I hear the sound of pipes wracking. They’re here. I sigh in relief as the guy’s face distorts from confident to worried at the sound of motorcycles nearing. Just like the engines being killed, this guy will be next.
Panic flashes in his eyes and I can see that he’s debating something when he lunges at me. I roll to the right, swiftly moving the gun out of his reach but not moving myself out of the way. His body barrels into my left side, knocking me flat on the floor as a gunshot makes my ears ring.
“Cass!” I scream his name as loud as my voice will allow.I don’t know where the gunshot came from, who it hit, if it even hit anyone. My heart hammers louder in my chest and I’m panicking internally until I realize I had fired the gun in my hand in an effort to not let it go upon impact. I look toward where the gunshot had gone and exhale a breath of relief at the hole in the wall that is on the back of the building. The man is up again in an instant, though, and he’s still trying to get the gun from my hand when Cass, Scott, and Snapper come running into the room.
Cass doesn’t speak. He grabs the man’s shoulder, removing him from me and whipping him around until he was looking at Cass before he begins pummeling his fists into the man’s face. His brows are furrowed, his breathing is rugged, and his mouth is set in a straight line.
A large hand wraps around my arm while another covers my hand that holds Cass’s nine. I look up into the eyes of Scott at my side, easing the gun from my firm grasp and helping me to my feet. He doesn’t say anything as he leads me out of the room. He closes the door behind us, leaving Snapper and Cass alone with their intruder. My hand covers my mouth and tears pool in my eyes at the sight outside of the meeting room. Old School is lying on the ground by the bar in a pool of blood. Thick, red trickles ooze slowly from his side.
Gater is kneeling next to him, holding his head off the ground and Leo is behind the bar, rummaging through a first aid kit. I stare blankly down at the man I’ve grown close to in the past few weeks and I’m losing the fight to maintain control of myemotions. He’s going to be okay. Hehasto be.
Scott is still standing silently at my side. I glance up at him. The look on his face is impassive, as usual. He always looks sort of angry or at the very least, agitated.
