Page 79 of Reaper & Ruin
“You wish.” Rowan scoffed. “Either way, I’m gonna make sure we rescue your damsels in distress, and when we’re done,you’re going to introduce me for real. So I can warn them about how badly I’ll kill them if they hurt you.” He pulled me into a hug that was more like him crushing the air out of my lungs.
I liked it, though. Needed it.
“Can’t. Breathe.” I choked as I held him tighter.
“Good.” He pulled away. “Alright, let’s get moving before Silver bites our heads off. Or you decide to die on me like a loser.”
As if on cue, Silver appeared in the doorway, her expression sharp.
“You ready?” She asked, her gaze flicking to the mask in my hands, and smiling softly at the sight of it.
“Ready,” I said.
“Good,” she waved me forward. “Let’s go get some extra weapons and get our guys back.”
Rowan held the door open as I stepped through, Malivore trotting faithfully at my side. It was still a little dark out, but I didn’t mind. It helped fill me with confidence that I was about to do something right for a change.
We were coming for my men. And no one was going to stop us.
Especially not me.
***
The weapons bunker’s fluorescent lights flickered above us, making me far more nervous than I wanted to be. With each step I took, it echoed as we moved deeper inside, surrounded by racks of weapons gleaming under the artificial light. It was like stepping into an armory on a movie set, except it was real, and every single piece of metal and plastic around us was loaded or could be.
Silver was a scary bitch. She had more weapons than most countries did. Fuck, she even had a mini-tank, and she sure ashell looked happy about it. She gushed about how she couldn’t wait to use it one day, as though that was something to be excited about.
The air had a tang of gunpowder, and metal shavings mixed with stale smoke and dust. It made me feel a little nauseous, but I forced myself to breathe, inhaling the metallic scent that reminded me of the stakes. This wasn’t some thrill ride. It was a matter of life or death.
“Stay close and touch nothing,” Silver muttered. She didn’t even look back as she glided between aisles, her eyes scanning every shelf with practiced precision.
She looked like Atlas did when he was in his scary badass mode.
Rowan nudged me with his elbow, grinning as though we were on a grocery run. I didn’t know how he could be so relaxed, but then again, he’d probably been used to more violent things in prison. He was having fun. Meanwhile, I was trying not to think about the fact that each weapon Silver picked up was meant to hurt, maim, or kill monsters bigger than I could ever hope to be.
Her voice broke through the haze of tension. “Heather, catch.”
I turned just in time to catch the bulletproof vest she tossed in my direction; its weight nearly made me stumble. “Put it on,” she ordered, not pausing as she continued picking up more supplies.
The vest was heavy, and I struggled to put it on properly. She didn’t even pause as she walked over, adjusting the straps with sharp, tugging motions.
“You’ll get used to it in a few minutes,” she said, her tone too flat to be reassuring, but her hands were steady. “Think of it as the more protection you wear, the less chance you get hurt. Or worse.”
I swallowed hard, feeling the Kevlar digging into my shoulders. “You really think we’ll need this?” I muttered, half to myself.
“Youneed this.” She shot me a sideways glance. “And I think it’s better to be prepared than dead.”
Rowan chuckled, giving me an encouraging pat on the back as Silver added another layer—a smaller tactical vest over the bulletproof one, and a belt with small compartments for ammo clips and a couple of knives. She even handed me kneepads and a helmet, which looked like it belonged on a SWAT officer, not me.
“Seriously?” I asked, staring at the thing in my hands, already weighed down like a Kevlar turtle. “You expect me to be able to move in all this?”
Silver’s response was short. “Yes.”
Rowan snickered. “Oh, come on, Lucky. You look like a real warrior princess now.” His grin softened into something a bit more serious as he adjusted his own gear, rolling his shoulders and comfortable. “A couple of bruises are better than the alternative.”
He was wearing only a thin bulletproof vest. That was it. It was hardly the same for us.
“I suppose,” I muttered, trying to keep my voice steady even as I felt both nervous and annoyed.
