Page 129 of Devour

My father heads toward the building without looking back. He walks with his hands in his pockets, shoulders loose, like he’s showing up for a meeting. I watch him cross the lot, and I don’t know what to think. If he double-crosses us, he’s fucking dead.

“Two minutes.” Fox looks at me. “Hold your shit together, Axl. We clear the main floor first. Then we go up to get her.”

“I’m going up the second I have an opening,” I growl.

“You’re going up when the floor is fucking clear.” Fox grabs my arm. “Stick to the fucking plan, so you stay alive.”

He’s right, but I don’t have to fucking like it. I nod once and he lets go.

We split and each make our way to our respective entry points. Fox, Crew, and I are at the front of the building. We press against the wall on either side of the main entrance and wait. My body shakes from the pain and adrenaline of needing to get to her.

Fox holds up two fingers. He’s counting down.

I hear my father’s voice through Crew’s phone. He’s inside. “Travis. It’s Adam. We need to talk.”

Fox looks at me, then Crew. He nods his head toward the door and we creep in.

The main floor opens into a wide corridor with rooms on both sides and a larger room at the end. Fox takes point, and I’m right behind him. Crew covers the rear.

We’re halfway down the corridor when two men come around the corner. I recognize both of them. They served with us for the last couple of years.

They see us at the same time we see them. The one on the left reaches for his weapon.

“Wrong fucking side, boys.” Fox puts two rounds in the first one before his hand touches his gun. The second one gets his weapon up, and I drop him before he can fire.

They hit the floor, and we step over them.

Gunfire erupts from the side of the building where Tate and Thorne should be and then from the west where Priest and Kase are. They all know we’re fucking here now.

Fox motions us toward the main room at the end of the corridor. The door is open, and I can hear voices inside—my father’s and someone else’s. They’re arguing. My father’s side of the conversation isn’t coming in through our earpieces.

Tate’s voice comes through the comms. “Two dead over here, but Thorne’s been stabbed.”

Fox stops in his tracks. “How fucking bad, Tate?”

“I’ll be fine,” Thorne growls through the comms before Tate can answer for him. “Keep fucking moving so I can go home to my wife.”

“We’re going to need medical, Fox,” Tate says, the concern in his tone is obvious.

“Call for help and stay with him. This isn’t over yet.” Fox motions for us to follow.

We round the corner into the main room, and it’s already chaos. My father is standing with his hands up. Travis Keller is behind a desk pointing a gun at him, saying something I can’t make out. Randall is on Travis’s right, also armed.

“Randall,” Travis barks at the other man, nodding toward us. “We have company. We’ve been fucking double-crossed.”

Fox charges forward, and Travis swings the gun toward him.

“Now, Adam,” Fox shouts.

My father moves. He grabs Travis’s arm and drives it down against the desk. The gun goes off into the floor. Fox doesn’t hesitate—he pins Travis’s hand against the wood with the butt of his gun, and I hear bones crack.

Randall comes off the wall. He’s fast for his size. He aims straight for Priest who’s coming through the west doorway with Kase.

The man fires before Priest clears the doorway. The shot catches Priest in his left arm—-the same one he’s been grinding through since the explosion. He lets out a series of swears and grunts through clenched teeth as his arm drops to his side, blood running down it.

“Priest!” I shout to him.

He doesn’t go down. He braces against the doorframe, raises his gun, and fires back. The shot clips Randall’s hip and sends him stumbling sideways.