Page 94 of Blood & Throttle
And for a second, it’s almost normal.
Almost.
Bishop meets us in the alley outside. The three of us move fast—coordinated, silent, cutting through the steel bones of Wraithmoor like ghosts. Ghost’s drone pings us an exact location: an off-grid warehouse out by the rail line, where Jace’s guy was last seen ducking into a transport rig with crates too heavy to be legal.
The sky above is sludge-dark, clouded in ash from the factories that never stopped burning. Pipes hiss steam along the gutters, while rats scatter beneath our boots.
We reach the warehouse.
It’s massive—corrugated steel slouched like a rusting corpse, with busted windows glowing orange from flood lamps inside. The scent of motor oil and cheap drugs leaksout through the cracks. Inside, I count three shapes—Jace and two of his men.
Sin nods. “I want the tall one.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You sure?”
She pulls her blade free. “He looks like he underestimates women.”
Fair.
Bishop slips around back, I take the side door and Sin moves up toward the loading dock, crouched low.
Three. Two. One.
We strike.
I breach first—shoulder to steel—gun already raised. One of Jace’s men turns, eyes wide, scrambling for the rifle on the table.
Too slow.
Two shots. One to the knee. One to the throat.
He gurgles. Collapses.
The second lunges for Sin—big, broad, swinging a blade. She ducks. Fast. Slides beneath the table and slashes his Achilles from below.
He roars. Falls.
She’s on him before he can scream again—blade to the gut, straight up.
He gasps, shudders and goes still.
I’m already moving.
But Jace?
That motherfucker’s already halfway out the back door.
“Riot—” Bishop’s voice crackles through the comms, but I’m already running.
Too late.
By the time I reach the exit, he’s gone, vanished into thesteel maze outside. I hiss through my teeth and punch the frame hard enough to dent it.
Coward.
I turn back.
And that’s when I feel it.
