Page 241 of Fractured Allegiance

Elias lowers his pistol, smoke still curling from the barrel. His eyes cut to me, flat as winter ice. “I told you not to move.”

Silas is already there, hauling me upright, his grip crushing against my arm as he scans me head to toe. His eyes don’t even register Jori’s body at our feet. Only me.

“You hurt?” His voice is a growl, pitched too high with fury.

I shake my head, but my pulse is still hammering against my throat, the ghost of Jori’s hand lingering there.

Elias holsters his gun, stepping past us, his tone cold enough to burn. “That was the leak.”

Silas’s grip tightens, pulling me closer, his stare never leaving my face. “And now he’s gone.”

But the words don’t sound like victory.

They sound like a warning.

Jori’s blood spreads fast across the concrete, slick and dark, and for a moment all I can do is stare at it. It smells like iron, like every other corpse I’ve cleaned up for men like Drazen. Except this one tried to put a bullet through Silas’s back.

Silas doesn’t look at the body. Not once. His hand stays locked around my arm. His chest pressed against mine as if I’m the one bleeding here. His voice rips through the gunfire, clear and commanding. “Stay with me. You don’t move unless I move.”

I should argue. I don’t.

Elias doesn’t waste time either. His reloaded mag slams home with a single, practiced motion. “We finish clearing or we don’t leave this place alive.”

Bullets tear through the crates again, the walls shuddering with each impact. Jax roars and sprays fire toward the shadows, Ren curses as he reloads, and above us the sound of boots shifts; it’s Drazen’s men pulling back, regrouping.

Silas tilts his head, listening. His grip eases just enough for him to reload, but his other hand doesn’t leave me. Not for a second. “They’re falling back,” he mutters. His eyes cut to Elias. “Means they’ve got something else waiting.”

“Outside,” Elias snaps. “They’ll circle the exits.”

My pulse kicks harder. Trapped inside Bellamy, with Drazen’s men outside waiting to finish the job.

Silas finally drags his eyes off me, sweeping the shadows with his gun raised. “Then we carve our way through.”

My lungs ache with every inhale of the polluted air, but I don’t let go of Silas’s sleeve. His shirt is slick with sweat, his arm tight with muscle, and for the first time since we got here, I don’t care if my grip looks like I’m weak.

He crouches low, scanning the rafters with predator’s focus. “They’re moving off the beams,” he mutters. “Regrouping. They’ll cut the exits.”

“Then we cut them first,” Elias says. His voice is flat steel, just like his pistol angled at the front door. He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t even glance at Jori’s body cooling on the ground. His whole focus is forward.

Jax spits into the dust, snarling. “Good. Let’s fucking end this.” His scar splits wide when he grins, a savage crack across his face.

Ren swallows hard, fumbling another mag into his weapon. His hands shake so badly he almost drops it. His eyes flick to Jori’s corpse, then snap away fast, like staring too long might make him next.

“Eyes up, not on the dead,” Silas growls, his voice hard enough to make Ren flinch. He leans toward Elias. “Back door or front?”

“Front,” Elias decides without hesitation. “It’s what they’ll expect, but it’s also where we’ve got the least choke points. Better to meet them head-on than die in a funnel.”

My mouth is dry, but I force the words out anyway. “What about the SUV?”

Elias smirks without humor. “If it’s still in one piece, we’ll find it.”

Silas’s hand clamps the back of my neck, steadying me as another burst of fire rattles the walls. His grip is rough, grounding, pulling me into his shadow like he’s daring anyone to pry me out of it. His voice is low, meant only for me. “Stay close. I don’t care if it means crawling.”

My pulse roars. I nod.

Elias signals with two fingers, then moves. We break cover as one, Silas shoving me low beside him, Jax charging ahead like a battering ram, Ren stumbling after. Bullets tear into the crates we leave behind, wood splintering into dust, but the real fire comes when the front doors slam open.

Drazen’s men pour through. Dark suits, masks, rifles spitting fire like they’ve been waiting all their life for this.