Page 242 of Fractured Allegiance

Jax howls, firing full-auto, his rounds chewing through the first wave. Elias moves smoother, each shot a kill. Silas drags me against the wall, shielding me with his body as he leans out.

It’s chaos. Shouts, smoke, muzzle flare. The stench of blood spreading fresh over old rot.

One of Drazen’s men bursts too close, rifle raised, eyes wild. I don't think.

I raise the Glock and I fire twice. Center mass. The recoil kicks up my wrists, the sound deafening in the enclosed space.

The man drops, his rifle clattering across the concrete.

My hands shake, fingers locked around the grip so tight my knuckles go white. The smell of gunpowder burns my nostrils, and for a second I can't breathe, can't process what I just did.

Then Silas is there, his hand on my waist, hauling me back against the wall. His eyes blaze as they sweep over me, checking for injury, then lock onto mine.

"Good shot." His voice is rough, threaded with something between rage and pride. "But you stay behind cover. You hear me?"

I nod, but we both know I won't. Not if it means watching him die.

“Keep moving. You don’t stop when I tell you to,” he mutters through gritted teeth, firing over my shoulder. “And you’ll be the end of me.”

Another wave hits the doorway, gunfire chewing the concrete to dust.

Elias signals to Jax. “Drag this one,” he says, pointing to the Drazen man I hit on his head. “He’s coming with us.”

Jax snarls, hauling the half-conscious man up by his collar. “He talks before he dies.”

We move, and somehow—between Jax’s brute force, Elias’s precision, and Silas’s brutal efficiency—we break through.

We spill out into the evening air, lungs heaving, the stink of smoke clinging to our skin. The SUV is there, two tires shot out, windshield spiderwebbed but still standing.

“Move!” Elias barks.

We pile in, bloodied, battered, shaking, but alive. Silas shoves me into the backseat first, his body covering mine evenhere, his gun still raised at the shadows, then Jax pushes in the prisoner as he sits at the door, ensuring the prisoner is trapped between Silas and himself.

Ren takes up the passenger seat.

Elias turns the key, the engine catching rough, and the whole frame lurches forward. The steering wheel shudders under his grip as the SUV screeches across the asphalt on two shredded tires. Sparks spit against the road, the rims shrieking like metal dragged to slaughter.

“We’re not making it far,” Silas growls, bracing a hand against the dash.

“Far enough,” Elias snaps, shoving the gear harder. The SUV bucks, the ride jagged, but the damn thing moves. It doesn’t have to be pretty. It just has to get us out.

The warehouse shrinks behind us in the rearview, a hollow husk full of blood and echoes. Jori’s betrayal, Drazen’s ambush, the smoke—all left in the rear of Bellamy.

But none of it feels finished.

Because Drazen doesn’t play for blood. He plays for bone. And today, he just took a piece of ours.

Chapter 30 – Silas - Teeth Bared

The safehouse feels different when we drag ourselves back inside.

It’s not the walls. They’re the same cracked plaster, the same blinds hanging crooked, the same floorboards that creak in all the wrong places. What’s different is what we’ve brought in with us.

The stench of cordite clings to our clothes, smoke woven into our jackets, the metallic tang of dried blood on our skin. Gunpowder and grit follow us in, settling into a place that was supposed to be clean.

The SUV sits outside with two shredded tires, glass webbed in spider cracks, paint peppered with bullet scars. It limped the last few miles like a dying animal, the wheel grinding metal on metal, Elias muscling it through on sheer stubbornness. It’s a wonder it made it back at all.

Now, inside, the weight of Bellamy clings to everyone. Boots scuff the floorboards, too many men tracking dirt and ash through a place meant to be safe.