Page 195 of Dirty Pleasures


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The realization that we might actually escape, that we could survive this nightmare, lent a new speed to my steps.

Kaz wasted no time, moving towards the windows. “Once we are out, we keep moving. No stopping, no looking back.”

“Okay.”

But then, a sudden movement from my peripheral vision made me whip my head to the side, an instinctive reaction which saved me as a bullet whizzed past where my head had just been.

“Ah!” I twisted fully around to face the shooter and squeezed the trigger.

The recoil shuddered through my arm, but it didn’t faze me as the masked man crumpled to the ground.

“Goddamn it!” Kaz growled, pointed, and got to my side. “I figured they heard that.”

“Hopefully, not anymore—”

Instantly, five more black masked men entered.

Well damn. . .

Kaz and I exchanged glances and without needing any words, fired shots.

Immediately, the bathroom transformed into an arena of violence.

There was a deadly rhythm to our spray of bullets.

I loaded while Kaz shot.

Once done, I shot as he reloaded.

Five more men came in, getting bullets in their eyes and chests, necks, and legs. They fell one by one, their bodies shaking and then crumpling to the tile floor.

Fuck you and you and you and you.

Blood sprayed.

Tiled splintered.

More glass shattered.

But even as our attackers fell, more poured in.

Come on. Give us a fucking break!

A seemingly endless stream of vengeance and violence continued.

We shot before they could even pull a trigger.

I didn’t think I was hit, but with the heightened adrenaline surging through my body, I wouldn’t know until later.

And we kept our rhythm.

When I was out, he kept those shots firing, and I loaded.

Once done, he did the same.

And more came in.

And all of them died.

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