Page 28

I grasped the round knob on the outside of the door, praying Alice hadn’t already locked up.

“One. Two. Three.”

It turned, the lock giving way, the door opening inwards.

She was there right in front of me, and behind her a man held onto her. An arm wrapped around her middle, his hand on her face, fingers gripping into her cheeks. Her face was streaked, the bright lights of the operating room reflecting from the tears that hadn’t been wiped away. And inside my stomach ballooned, a chaotic mix of anger and fear and this thick, desperate need to rip every one of those fingers from his sockets.

At the floor to my right, a man had sunk to his knees, sobbing like a scorned child. Blood dripped down the cabinet in front of him and he cradled his hand, or what was left of it. This wasn’t just a fucking break-in. This was some serious shit, the likes we would dish out. And that meant we were in a real fucking situation.

“Who the fuck are you?” the man standing over the bleeding, whimpering mess on the floor demanded.

I didn’t recognise him. His clothes said nothing: dark denim jeans, a black jacket, a thick gold chain peeping out of the collar. He held a scalpel between his fingers, fingers covered in gold sovereign and keeper rings. Geordie fucking knuckle dusters.

“I’m here for my lass,” I grunted, my eyes scanning the room.

Five of them. One with a scalpel and one with their hands on my girl. And the only weapon we had between us was a crowbar, and no fucking Demon.

“This bitch yours, huh?” The man with his arm round her squeezed her face hard.

Alice winced, clenching her eyes shut, and anger filled my veins. I searched the room again, looking for a weapon, an escape route, or just a way to get Alice out of the equation. Indie, Fury and Magnet would be through these doors any minute and right now, I didn’t know how I was going to free her.

“I’ll fucking ask again. Who the fuck are you?” The man with the scalpel spat, a hint of an accent, the tiniest Yorkshire-isms hiding in north east harshness.

“I’m a King, mate.” I watched his reaction, the slightest flicker at the corner of his eye, the loosening of the grip on the scalpel, just for a second.

He knew. He knew who we were.

The men with him looked at each other. A quick glance left and right, all acknowledging the Kings’ name.

But then the Smoggie with the scalpel smiled, his lips curling into a big grin, gold teeth breaking up the yellow and decay.

“Yeah, you’re a King. Just the one of you. And from what we heard, you lot are dropping like flies. Grab him boys, let’s make him watch us cut his bitch up.”

“Take another step and I’ll introduce you to CARNAGE!” I shouted the last word and chaos erupted around us.