Page 97 of Pack of Crooks

With our guns out, we slink along the gate and rush inside, barrels up and ready to fire, but one guard is lying in a pool of blood and Jo is crouched over the other, the knife that was hidden in the leather band around her forearm embedded in his neck. Her head whips in our direction, narrowing on her men, and she retracts the blade. Tiny drops of blood splatter over her chest.

“I had it handled,” she grumbles.

“I know, mi amor,” Vette murmurs. “You did good.”

And with that praise, the traces of her frustration trickle away and she beams at us. “Thanks.”

“Maddox and Lark will wait out here, make sure no one disrupts the party,” Jo says, nodding at the two of them. “Ezra, Kill, Mac and Vette. With me.”

“Always,” Mac says.

Kill’s arm brushes against mine. I glance at him, he lifts an eyebrow.You good?I love him for worrying. Tonight could be triggering for me, but knowing every last vile being in this building is dying helps me keep my head. I nod. He exhales in relief and we take up the rear, slipping into the House without anyone alerting tonight’s attendees.

We pause in the hallway, each of us pressing against the wall. Around the corner is the door to the room and a guard with a gun. Jo nods at Mac, and he carefully spins on a silencer, winking at Jo who watches. She blushes and he catches her chin as he pushes off the wall.

“I’ll be back.”

“Okay, Terminator,” she whispers back, grinning at him. He swipes his thumb along her cheek and steps into the hallway, firing before the guard can even shout in surprise. “Time to party. No one gets out alive,” she tells us.

Vette nods in agreement.

Kill and I do as well, and one by one, we stride around the corner and down to meet Mac who is waiting with one foot on the guard’s crotch. It’s then I realize the guy is still alive, blood bubbling out of the wound right at the center of his neck, unable to make any sounds as he slowly, and probably painfully, bleeds out. Mac stomps on his dick. The guy can’t even scream.

“Leave him,” Vette tells Mac. “We’re going in.”

Sighing, Mac glances at Kill. “They always ruin the fun.”

Kill smirks.

Mac raises his gun and shoots the guy in the forehead, ending it for good. “Can’t afford any escapees,” he explains.

My grip is tight on my own weapon, heart a steady drum as adrenaline slithers through my veins. Vette’s hand moves in slow motion toward the knob. I breathe in, hold the air in my lungs. A second ticks by. Vette rips the door open. My exhale rushes out and everything speeds up.

The five of us pour into the room, shots firing, killing a dozen people before panic sets in. The omegas on stage scream and drop to the floor, trembling in fear. I rip my focus away and shoot three guys, searching for Rook in the midst of the bloody chaos.

“Say bye bye,” Mac shouts, rapid firing at a few people attempting to run toward the back of the room.

Vette says something to him in Spanish over the screaming, and Mac simply laughs, the sound full of rage.

A movement near the stage catches my gaze. Rook is racing around it. “Mother fucker. Kill!” I shoot a guy who charges atme, shoving his body aside as the bullet takes him out, not even caring how hard his body hits the floor.

“I see him.” Kill fires, whips out a throwing knife, takes two seconds to aim and flicks his wrist. I don’t wait to see if it hits the mark, I shoot my way through the crowd, leaving a trail of dead bodies behind me, mind set on one thing.

Rook’s death.

The omegas on stage whimper and cry as I edge closer. “It’s okay,” I tell them, but there’s probably nothing soothing about a beta drenched in blood and brain matter. Grimacing, I skirt around the stage and Kill catches up.

Rook is staggering toward the door, a knife embedded in the back of his left knee.

“Where are you going, Rook?” I ask, surging toward him and clamping my hand on his shoulder. I yank him back. The asshole falls over, landing on the knife and forcing it deeper into his skin as he screams. Those sounds are like music to my ears.

I squat and shove my gun into his mouth, holding his wild gaze. “What did we tell you?”

“He never listens.” Kill shoots him in the dick.

Rook’s entire body jerks, and I push my gun deeper into his mouth, forcing his jaw to open wider than normal. “I’d drag this out, but you don’t deserve the air you breathe.”

He doesn’t even get a plea for his life out before I fire, blasting a hole in his head. I watch life fade from his eyes, disgust roiling through me. This fucking vermin. We should have killed him when we murdered the rest of his pack. Having to live without them was meant to be a punishment, but now, because we didn’t end his life, this fucking event happened.