Page 4 of Redemption (Devil Dogs of the Apocalypse #4)

Aly

“On me, she went over here.”

My heart pounds, threatening to burst its way out from my chest. There’s sweat pouring down my temples as adrenaline surges through my body. I’m out here on my own. Exposed. Vulnerable.

Especially against these two giant steaming piles of elephant shit.

“Are you sure? We can’t fuck this up. David said she’s important. That we needed to find her and bring her in unharmed. Said she’d be perfect for Regeneration.”

David.

That fucking wingnut and his whatever-the-fuck peacock bullshit rising cult he’s a part of. I knew he was behind all this. I fucking knew it. Which means I need to get away... Fast... Now .

I’ve managed to evade these two nimrods for the past twenty or so minutes, but I’m running out of time.

Every second their footsteps get closer and closer to where I’m crouched down on the other side of a large, overgrown decorative shrubbery.

Or is it just a bush now? Either way, it can only do so much to hide my ass, especially when they’re practically on top of me.

Out of options, I palm my weapon, thankful Jax confirmed I had it before I left him on the front steps earlier.

Lifting the gun, I slowly creep backwards, placing myself further against the outer wall and the surrounding foliage.

They’re getting closer, but there’s so much brush in the way I can’t get a clear enough shot to take them down without completely revealing myself. If I miss, I’m done for.

Turning to the left, I spot another entryway to this particular garden. Or, in my case, another exit. The only problem? I have to step out from my hiding spot—exposing myself in order to cross the path they’re currently walking on—to go through the passageway leading to freedom.

I glance through the brush towards the male forms slowly drawing closer to my hiding spot. Maybe if I keep quiet, they’ll think they missed me or that I ran to a different area of the gardens. If that’s the case, they might leave, and then I’ll have the clearance I need to make a run for it.

A moment later, however, they take another looming step in my direction, destroying all hope for my miracle.

Shitty shitty fuck fuck.

A diversion.

That’s it. I need a fucking diversion. Something that will make their heads turn in the opposite direction and give me just enough time to get away.

My eyes dart down, scanning the cobbled walkway of the garden for a rock or something to fling across the path. But as the hair on my arms lifts on end, I realize it’s too late for that. They’re too close. They’ll know I’m here by the sudden noise and movement.

Reality sets in like a knife to my chest. There’s no other choice. I have to take the chance, knowing I can’t stay here for much longer.

I just need to get through that archway.

The cadence of their shuffling feet slows, becoming clearer as they close in on my location. Their voices drop low, as if to conceal themselves from me.

Shit ...

My pounding heartbeat overshadows everything else as I look left and right, hoping and praying for something, a sign, anything that will help me out of this mess.

They said Jax was shot. How badly, I have no idea.

But I have to assume he won’t be able to save me, at least not without risking the possibility of getting shot again.

Cole and Hawk are probably in the same predicament.

They were upstairs when all this started.

Still in bed, sound asleep. If they got Jax, it’s only a matter of time before they go upstairs and take them out as well.

Which just confirms I’m on my own. No one’s going to come to my rescue. It’s up to me to save myself this time.

Knowing my awful sense of self-awareness and self-preservation, I would have definitely bet on me, myself, and I as being the first unfortunate soul to get off-ed in the made-for-TV movie version of my life. How I’ve still managed to survive this long is beyond me, but I’ll take it.

With no other way out of this, I lean to the side of the overgrown shrubbery and spy on the interlopers, trying to judge how much time I have to make a break for it.

But... holy shit. They’re practically on top of me.

Time to put the butter on the biscuit.

I bounce on my toes, drawing in breath after breath as I psyche myself up for the race—or fight—of my life. I can do this. They’re out of shape. I’m... still out of shape, but less so than them. Plus, I have a gun, too! I can totally win today. I can do this. I can—

Suddenly, like a miraculous twist of fate, both my stalkers turn and start to head back the way they came.

Without a second to lose, I take the chance to escape, twisting in the direction of the archway behind me, but I’m stopped by a living brick wall before I even get a chance to fully turn around.

Son of a fucking cock-sucking twat waffle!

This new guy wastes no time as he pulls me against his much larger frame from behind, clamping a hand around my mouth while dragging me through the archway and into another garden.

I go for my gun—my only saving grace left in my metaphorical bag of tricks—but my assailant wraps himself tighter around me, forcing my arms down and my only weapon to press firmly against my side.

With a growl, I buck my body, writhing and fighting with every ounce of energy I have, but the guy just won’t let up!

MOVE YOUR ASS, BITCH!!!!

With a frustrated roll of my eyes, I mentally chastise my inner self, telling her to shut the fuck up and let me focus on not getting my ass kidnapped again!

At least it’s just this one guy instead of the two, but I still need to figure out a way to get this asshole off of me before they all come back and take me to that Godforsaken funny farm.

They can shove their kumbaya bullshit right up their righteous asses if they think I’m going to go down without a—

“It’s ok, Mi Alma. I’m going to get you out of here.”

What... in the actual...fuck....

My heart just about seizes up at the softly spoken words and the meaning known only to me and one other very specific—very deceased —person.

Everything I think I know flips upside down.

My vision blurs, confusion and panic taking over against the irrationality crowding at my back.

My mind blanks, muscles melting in his arms as I try to justify the impossibility of hearing that voice.

His voice.

At my assumed surrender, he loosens his grip on my face, his hand lowering just enough to....

I shouldn’t say anything, shouldn’t make any noise that might draw the others to us, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

His name sounds foreign as it falls from my lips in a stuttered gasp. “Darius?”