Page 125 of Brutal Crown
I get three steps closer before the first bullet flies.
BANG!
“Shit!”
I duck behind the side of a nearby container. Metal pings and clangs around me. Bullets slice through the air. I peek through the corner to see one fully masked man rushing toward my hideout. He fires off shots, destroying my tires. The bastards weren’t following to scare me. They came to kill.
“Two can play, assholes,” I hiss, peering out long enough to fire three rounds back. He screams, a short, sharp sound followed by a crash. I got him in the leg, the shoulder, and the chest. He twitches on the floor before his body gives out.
But I’m not satisfied yet. I still have a few more to kill.
From my hiding spot behind the container, I fire bullets that shatter the windows of their car and bathe the metal in holes.
That’s when the two other men scramble out of the car. One runs across the empty space in the middle of the junkyard, angling left. The other bolts straight toward the yard gates.
I break cover and sprint after the one weaving toward a hidden corner. He ducks behind a pile of junk metal, firing wildly behind him. Bullets hit the ground near my feet, but he’s panicked, so his aim is shit.
Annoyance slithers up my veins. These are who they sent to come after me? Fucking amateurs? What a waste of my time.
I slide behind a stack of pipes, flanking him from the side. The moment I catch sight of his back, I rush him. He turns, and his eyes widen as I slam into him full force, tackling him to the dirt.
We hit the ground hard. His elbow catches my side. I grunt, grab his wrist, and twist until I hear the crunch of bone.
“Ah!” He screams, continuously digging his good elbow into the side of my stomach. I don’t register the full pain shooting up my spine as I rip his pistol from his hand and smash the butt into his temple once, twice. Blood splashes on my face.
“Please…” he chokes.
I place the barrel of his own gun at the opening of his ear and silence his annoying voice with a shot through his skull.
I shove his dead weight off my body and immediately scramble to my feet.
My ears pick up the sound of gravel shifting, and I turn just in time to duck another swing. The third guy is on me, knife in hand, slashing wildly. I block him with my forearm, and the silver blade glints under the moonlight just before it bites into my flesh.
Pain shoots up my arm as I slam my left fist into his gut. He doubles over. I immediately grab the back of his neck and drive my knee up into his face. He groans as I knee him again until I feel the crack of bone. Blood pours from his nose, but he desperately lunges for me again. The knife slashes in the air, just a hair’s breadth away from my eyes.
“Fucking bastard,” I snarl, twisting behind him.
He claws at my jacket and tries to push the knife up to stab me again, but I lift his heavy body and slam him into a stack of crates behind us, sending the whole thing crashing down with a sickening crunch.
I groan as my body collapses hard against the ground. The slimy bastard uses the brief destabilizing moment to start crawling away from me.
He yelps in pain when I grab a fistful of his long hair and pull him back. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
His answer is an incoherent gurgle as I drive his blade into his neck. Once. Twice. Three times.
Blood spatters on the concrete; he twitches, then goes limp in my arms.
I blow out a heavy breath and start to make my way toward the car again, which seems empty by the look of things. But as I take one more step closer, I see the driver’s door open.
The last one is younger than the others—early twenties, maybe. Their driver, the person who led these men to me in the first place. I grit my teeth in anger. He stumbles out of the open door, breathing heavily as he leans against the side of the car. From the way he’s bleeding, I can tell at least one of the bullets I fired at the car earlier hit him.
He raises his head, and the second he spots me coming closer, he makes a break toward the fence.
He’s younger, so he’s fast.
But he’s not trained.
My feet pound on the ground as I chase after him, hot on his heels. On reaching the chain-link fence, he starts to climb. That slows him down, and I catch up just before he crosses over to the other side.
