Page 23
Story: Cyclone (The Golden Team #6)
Jude
T he first shot shattered the night like a gunshot from God.
I ducked instinctively, adrenaline surging like lightning through my veins.
Cyclone was already moving—grabbing me by the waist, hauling me behind the heavy oak table they’d dragged into place earlier for cover.
More gunfire lit up the darkness outside.
Crack—crack—crack—
Short, controlled bursts.
Not amateurs.
Killers.
Just like she expected.
I pulled the recorder from my pocket, my hands trembling only slightly now. I shoved it deep into the hidden panel Cyclone had cut into the floorboards, snapping it shut just as more bullets punched through the walls.
“We stick to the plan!” she shouted over the chaos.
“Stick to the plan!”
Cyclone just nodded once, fierce and calm. His pistol was already in his hand, his eyes scanning the windows, the doors, and the shadows beyond.
Outside, I could hear the sharp, deadly return fire of Cyclone’s backup team.
Short bursts. Silent movements.
Ghosts in the desert.
She didn’t know some of their names. She hoped they didn’t get shot.
All she needed to know was that they were here because Cyclone had made damn sure she wouldn’t fight this battle alone.
Another window shattered.
Boots pounded against the porch.
“They’re coming!” she whispered.
Cyclone grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him. His thumb brushed across her cheekbone in a flash of tenderness that burned hotter than the gunfire.
“Stay low. Stay smart. Stay alive,” he said roughly. “I’ll be right back.”
Then he was gone, vanishing into the shadows like a storm himself.
I was tucked in behind the broken table, heart hammering as the door burst inward.
Three men in tactical black stormed inside, rifles raised.
For one heartbeat, I froze.
Then instincts born from grief and fire kicked in.
I yanked the spare revolver from my waistband and squeezed off two quick shots.
One man dropped—the other two dove for cover.
Gunfire exploded through the room, splinters of wood and drywall raining down around me.
A shadow moved to my right—too fast—too close—
I twisted, firing blind.
The man grunted and fell hard at my feet.
I was moving before I could think, crawling low, weaving through the wreckage of the living room.
Another figure rose in the doorway, rifle trained on her.
I braced for the shot—
And then Cyclone was there.
He crashed into the man with the full brutal force of a battering ram, slamming him against the wall. The rifle clattered to the floor.
Cyclone didn’t hesitate.
One punch.
Two.
The man sagged to the ground, unconscious. Cyclone pushed on his neck, and he stopped breathing.
Cyclone whirled, grabbed Jude’s hand, and yanked her to her feet.
“You good?” he barked.
“Yeah,” I gasped, adrenaline burning through my bloodstream. “You?”
He flashed a quick, savage grin.
“Better now.”
Gunfire outside thickened—closer.
“They’re pushing up!” one of Cyclone’s team shouted over the radio. “Heavy weapons incoming!”
“Basement!” Cyclone snapped to Jude. “Go!”
She hesitated, just for a second.
“I’m not leaving you,” she said, voice shaking with everything she couldn’t say.
“I’m right behind you,” he promised. “Go!”
I ran down the hall, through the kitchen, and into the hidden trapdoor leading to the old storm shelter.
I barely made it down the steps when the house shuddered under an explosion—one of the SUVs blowing apart in a fireball of heat and smoke.
The walls trembled. Dust rained from the rafters.
Gunfire, shouts, and the low, heavy rumble of the weapons firing down on us.
I crouched at the base of the stairs, breathing hard, listening.
Another explosion.
Closer.
Then—Footsteps.
Light.
And Cyclone’s face—bloody, bruised, alive—appeared at the top of the stairs.
He stumbled down to me, grabbed my face again, and kissed me hard, which nearly knocked me backward.
“We’re clear,” he rasped against her skin. “We’ve got ‘em.”
She stared up at him, dizzy with relief, fear, and something too big to name.
“You’re sure?” she whispered.
He smiled. Soft. Fierce. Certain.
“They’re not getting near you again. Not while I’m breathing.”
And somewhere outside, as the gunfire faded and the backup team moved in to clean up, the senator’s empire—the lies, the blood, the power—began to crumble.
Because of her. Because of them. Because no matter how broken the world had made them, they were stronger. Together.
Table of Contents
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