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Jaykob

Don’t steal things you don’t really want.

“They’re clear,” Dom tells me, standing like a stone wall beside me, and I nod, relaxing as I see the same thing.

Jasper backs away from the moat, a heavy pack in his hands, as Heather’s dragged away and more Sinners start peeking their heads out of the trees.

The air smells like sweat and smoke and incoming rain, and something bitter and metallic, like new pennies. It’s like every other shit fight we’ve seen.

But fuck, I hate being penned in.

“Reload!” Dom shouts. “Line up, they’re going to storm the bridge.”

I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing up here. Dom has this. He’s always had this. I should be down there in the action, sniping the fuck out of any dick-for-brains trying to take a shit on our welcome mat.

“No! Sawyer, you can wait. Wait, Sawyer?—”

Eden’s frustration rings from the porch, and I look over as Sawyer pushes through the crowd of injured and the few Reapers who just got themselves safe.

Below us, Sawyer pulls Jennifer right out of Beau’s arms, gripping her tight against his chest.

“Oh, thank God. Oh, thank God, thank God.” He’s choked up and shaking, but Jennifer grips his arms, pulling back.

“I . . . You . . . you left me,” she stammers in a small voice.

Sawyer shakes his head, gripping her so tight I shift my grip on my rifle.

“No,” he says fiercely. “No, I didn’t. It was all chaos. You were right there , I saw you right there , and then you just weren’t , and I... I would never ...” His voice breaks. “I’m so sorry, Jennifer. I’m so, so sorry. You’re safe, I promise.”

This time, hesitantly, she lets him pull her into his arms, and I wrinkle my nose.

Who the fuck leaves their girl behind?

“Beau, Deanna needs extra hands!” Eden yells through the dark, and Beau takes off toward the porch. “And can somebody please get Kasey, she had the supply list!”

My eyes lift to Eden as she rushes over to Mary Beth, who nods at whatever she tells her.

Then Eden points up the stairs, her expression firming.

As Mary Beth runs off, Eden enlists two Reapers to go fetch boiling water, and two more for this, and one for that—and not one of them stops to give her shit about it.

She’s got her snippy, bossy-as-fuck face on.

My lips kick up on one side.

She’s tough as hell.

Dom slams his hand on top of the mantlet. “Bristlebrook, fire for effect.”

I turn back to see Sinners drop as they head for the bridge, and the next line pauses warily, hugging the tree line.

Thunder rumbles overhead.

“We’ve got to blow the bridge,” I say, and Dom nods, just as grim, as a thought hits me. “Shit, have we secured the side tunnel?”

Dom looks up sharply. “No. They shouldn’t know where it is, but...”

I sling my rifle, heading for the ladder. “I’ve got it. You handle the bridge.”

Distractedly, Dom shouts again for Bristlebrook to fire, and another round of shots rings out as he comes up behind me, grabbing my shoulder.

“Jayk, stop.” Dom searches my face. “What the hell are you doing? You handle the bridge. Call it.”

For fuck’s sake .

“I don’t need to call it. I don’t want to call it. You’re doing this better than I ever fucking could,” I tell him, trying to pitch my voice low but not sure I’m succeeding.

Dom starts shaking his head. “No. This? This training, where everyone’s at right now. You did it. Finish it, Jayk. Fuck your cold feet.”

I give him a hard look through the shadows, trying to make him get it.

“It’s not cold feet.”

It really isn’t.

I could do this. The idea doesn’t panic me. I’m not being modest or losing my shit. I’m not wallowing in guilt that the bacon guy turned into a kebab. We lost Reapers tonight, sure, and that’s rough, but in this kind of surprise attack, that shit is inevitable.

I’m good . The only thing ripping through me right now is impatience. I know enough to know where I should be.

And to know where he should be.

It’s fucked that he doesn’t.

From the ground, Beau shouts, “We’ve got creepers!”

“Hold!” I shout, distracted, and the battlements fall quiet, waiting.

Across the moat, it’s quiet as Sinners start to edge out from behind the trees. A few bolder Sinners are darting forward, slipping in behind whatever shitty cover they can find.

Dom searches my face, his eyes hard and stupid stubborn. “See it out, asshole.” He pauses, his jaw flexing. “We’ll talk after.”

Then he shoves me back, slinging his own rifle and making for the ladder. “I’ve got the side tunnel. You have the bridge and the call. Grenades are by Platform Three.” He looks up at me, and he almost smiles. “Have fun.”

Every part of me wants to strangle him for being a stubborn dick, but I snort anyway and turn, lifting my voice over the uneasy quiet.

Everyone is watching the Sinners skulk amid the trees.

“Okay, everyone. Hold on to your fucking bloomers, it’s about to get hot.” Grimly, I watch the Sinners creep forward again, emboldened by the reprieve of gunfire. “Hold fire. You hold until I call or every fucking one of you is going to lose all rations except Eden’s slop!”

There’s a ripple of chuckles over the platforms, and I smirk as I slide down the ladder.

This part is fun. The dangerous shit always is.

And as king, I guess I can choose to do that dangerous shit myself if I want.

“Love you too, Jayk,” Eden calls tartly, and I snort, glancing back at her silhouette.

“Keep your tight ass on the porch,” I order.

Back beyond the moat, I hear Alastair.

“Bane, secure the bridge. Sullivan, suppressive fire—hold cover.”

Shit. Got to move.

“Sloane, get the heat and get it down now!” I shout, my adrenaline revving as I bolt for Platform Three.

“Jayk?” Ida calls as I pass, like she’s got her panties in a knot. “Are we still holding? They’re getting close.”

“Still holding!” I shout as I run.

I pass another platform. Ahead, I can see the torches streaming forward, the twisted faces as the Sinners make a run on the moat, and I push harder.

Ida only pauses for a second. “Did you hit your head? They’re going to take it!”

“Do not fire, you old goat!”

Jasper and Lucky are just staggering to a halt at the base of Platform Three as I get there, and they start loading up on as many frags as Sloane can hand over.

Jasper’s arm is bleeding like a bitch, but he’s moving it fine, so it’s probably only a surface wound.

Breathing hard, I snatch a few frags for myself.

“More,” I say impatiently, but she shakes her head.

“That’s it.”

Fuck .

“Fine, Jasper, drop the pack. The fuck is that...”

“Oh, shit!” Lucky says, startled, staring at the military pack Heather tossed over. “That’s one of ours.”

In seconds, he’s pulled it off Jasper’s shoulder and has ripped the zipper open.

It’s carefully loaded with boxes of C-4, more frags, dozens of magazines.

Lucky whistles low. “Oooh, they made a danger pack.”

“They’ll kill her for this,” Jasper breathes, and discomfort crawls over my skin.

Heather just evened the playing field.

There’s a burst of shots from our side, and I snap my head up.

“I said hold , assholes!”

A few more shots cut through the dark.

“We’ll be holding our intestines in a minute, you dick! Whatever you’re planning, hurry the fuck up! They’re here,” Ava shouts from up ahead.

“Shit,” I curse, and snatch several grenades out of their pockets, then look up at Jasper and Lucky. “Either of you ever throw a baseball?”

Lucky snorts, tossing one of the frags up and catching it as he edges back toward the moat. “Three-time Little League champ, baby.”

Jasper gives me a disdainful look and snatches a frag from my hand. “I can handle a light toss, Jaykob.”

I grin, slapping his back hard enough that he winces, as more of our people start shooting.

“Just remember: this ain’t the time to set one off early.”

Jasper’s face turns wickedly dark, but I’m already bolting for the moat.

Lucky veers off to the left, and the posh prince takes the right.

The bitter wind whips my face. The temperature’s dropped from ball-frying to ball-freezing in just two days, but my blood is on fire now and pounding through my veins.

We pass Ava, Shelby, and Katherine. The crowd of men surging toward the moat is like a horde of ants swarming to devour a corpse. The flaming torches are still in the trees, backlighting the writhing horde, and another crack of thunder crashes from overhead.

The first drops start to fall around us.

One man is shot halfway over the bridge, and falls with a twist, but another makes it to our side right as I skid in beside him, and I need to pull my pocketknife out to take him through the throat.

As he drops, I watch the Sinners approach, panting.

Almost. A bit closer. Fucking come on .

In seconds, they’re close enough that I can see their faces. I can smell their rank, sour sweat.

Now.

Squeezing the safety lever, I wrench the pin from my first grenade.

“Bristlebrook, fire for effect,” I roar. “Pins out. Frags. Go!”

Behind me, a hurricane of bullets thunders through the Sinners, and I throw the grenade up onto the bridge. It bounces once, and my heart stutters as I glare at it.

Don’t you fucking dare .

It bounces back, teetering on the heavy wood.

A bullet grazes my cheek, and I flinch to the side, but I’m already backing up, pulling the next grenade out of my pocket and hurling it into the crowd of Sinners. Then the next. One more.

Two Sinners slam down onto the bridge, and I stare at the wobbling grenade in front of them.

Damn it! Just make like Jasper and?—

The bridge explodes.

The force of it sends me reeling backward, landing me on my ass as burst splinters and chunks of wood splatter the air where I was just standing.