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28. Ranger

[ 28 ]

RANGER

Something was wrong.

I knew it even without the fucked radio squealing like a deflating balloon in my ear. Without Saint ripping the wire from his skull and hurling it to the ground.

DNA.

I scooped up the fragmented radio and stuffed it in my pocket. “This better be the kind of bullshit you had a plan for.”

Saint made this noise. It was fucking awful, like he was being split in two, and it dawned on me that he was.

Cam and Jakov were behind us.

Vik and Alexei—they’d gone into that building, weapons raised, and we had no idea if the radio shut down had got them fucking killed.

I grabbed Saint’s arm, yanking him forward. “The bosses can take care of themselves. We need to be where the fight is.”

Sound logic but flawed. Cam and Jakov had guns. It stood to reason that anyone they came across would too. Or fucking handcuffs. But we had to choose, and I knew Cam well enough to trust he’d already shoved his own name to the bottom of the pile.

Viktor did stupid shit like that too. A thought that expanded in my panicked brain as me and Saint charged for the building, vaulting the goons we’d already put down and dragged away.

In front of the building was a concrete abyss—a car park with no cars, save the ones we’d disabled, that should’ve lit up with security lights as we sprinted across a second time. But like the first, nothing happened. Jake’s hack held, and it made no fucking sense.

This isn’t right. An instinct that gripped me as hard as the desperate need to get to Viktor. A primal necessity that pumped my blood faster, adrenaline powering my stride.

Me and Saint were both fast. Halfway there in seconds. Caught in the middle as the main door banged open and two figures rushed out.

I dropped low, gun raised, vision grappling in the dark to aim, but some fucker bodied me before I could make a decision about firing, sending me crashing to the concrete, my skull bouncing off the tarmac, starlight blasting my eyes.

Time stopped.

I stopped.

Maybe.

For a thudding, sickening heartbeat, I wasn’t fucking sure.

Then I was in motion again, yanked to my feet, and it dawned on me that the hulk that had sent me flying was Saint. That he still gripped my wrist, angling my gun at the ground.

“No.”

Dazed, I couldn’t grasp what he meant. Wet warmth trickled somewhere near my ear, and his masked face blurred, a smear of black wool in the dark as fast-approaching footsteps came up behind us.

I whirled around, wrestling Saint. But the fight in me died as my vision cleared and Viktor and Alexei popped up, whole and unhurt.

“That building is empty.” Alexei grabbed Saint, heaving him away hard enough to make me stumble. “Where is Cam?”

Saint shook his head.

“We haven’t seen them.” I spoke for him, listing forward to catch my breath. “Radio’s dead.”

“On purpose,” Alexei growled. “But who?”

I had no answer for him. I turned to Viktor. He reached for me, eyes wide with something that felt like concern, but the fucked-up hiss of silenced gunfire wrenched his gaze away a split second before he touched me.

It felt like the end of the world. Not the shots popping off in the distance, but his hand as it missed my skin by a fucking whisper. His touch. I needed it. In this moment. For whatever reason. Like I’d die without it.

But there was no time.

Alexei and Vik tapped into a higher level gangster mode and barked orders. We split and ran for the fight exploding in the distance, skirting around it to avoid stray bullets, creeping up on another building that was almost identical to the one behind. The empty one, according to Alexei. What the fuck was going on?

A bullet cracked the air too close for comfort. I ducked around a shipping container, my heart crying out for Viktor. He’d run hard to get to this point. Too hard. His hip⁠—

“Keep moving.”

Saint’s voice startled me. His hands on my shoulders felt like a dream. Then I was running again, trailing him into the chaotic mess of a building raid we hadn’t planned for.

Chaos suited me.

I was born for it.

But loving Viktor, maybe it had broken something in me. Severed the link between me and pandemonium for good. I obeyed orders. Fired my weapon. Fought some goon I didn’t even see. But I felt like I was swimming through treacle with my eyes closed, and I dropped my gun.

It clattered to the concrete. I heard it and it was too loud, as if my ears were too close to the ground.

A shout blasted through my awareness. Rough and Irish.

Cam.

I jerked my head up. A lone figure burst from the building, heading my way. One I recognised, but not because I gave a shit. No. I only cared about Vik and his face flashed into my mind, his voice.

“The cousin of the man who took me from the orphanage and the one who likely paid him to.”

I remembered asking why the cunt was still breathing. Couldn’t recall Viktor’s answer, but as the world spun around me, I didn’t need to.

This fucker was still alive cos I was gonna kill him.

I forced my body upright and snatched up my gun. My balance wavered, legs like a newborn giraffe, but I planted my boots, digging deep for the resilience that had kept me breathing since the day my pops had died.

The figure—couldn’t remember his name if I had ever known it—bore down on me, running for his life. Behind him, I saw why as Cam emerged from the building, mask gone, blood and grime on his face as he chased another fucker down and shot him point blank in the head.

Brutal.

Gruesome.

Necessary.

I was struggling to remember what day of the week it was, but the point Jake had rammed home over and over echoed in my head.

We must be fast. There is no time to feel.

My target was still running. I took aim when all I wanted was to take that fucker down and end him slowly, snapping a bone for every year of Vik’s life this faceless dude and his mates had stolen from him. I’d once sworn to myself that I’d never kill a man without looking him in the eye, but as my window to take the shot narrowed, I was all out of fucks.

I fired. Missed. Fired again and hit my mark. Dude went down. Still moving. I surged to finish him off, but Jake got there first, stepping out of the shadows to pull a move I’d seen from him before.

Two shots to the face.

Lights out.

Done.

It was over. For real. The fight around me died, fading like the end of a fireworks display. Like mist fading over the ocean.

Viktor.

I spun around, the bleak landscape blurring as I searched for him. Searched and searched and searched. Then I found him fifty feet away, scraping stray bullets from the ground, before he was in motion again, too fast and furious for me to keep track of.

He hurled the bullets in Jake’s face the same moment Alexei came up on Cam and shoved him hard enough to send him staggering back.

“Ublyudok,” Alexei spat. “Mne by khotelos’ ne lyubit’ tebya.”

Some things didn’t need translating. I saw the same rage in Vik as he cussed out his brother, and deep down, I knew why, I understood, and I looked for Saint to check on him, even as I sank to one knee, bracing myself on the cold ground, pressure building in my throbbing head.

I couldn’t find him. I couldn’t see, black spots dancing in my vision, a crack of pain splintering my skull. A savage blow that drove all thoughts of Saint from my brain.

“Vik.”

The single syllable broke me. Footsteps boomed. Hands grabbed me. Too slow. Too late.

I was gone.

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