Thousands (Dollar 4)

I welcomed the cutthroat bloodthirstiness I always carried.

I nursed the mania of winning.

I threw myself head first into the crystal clarity of how to inflict the most damage.

I turned off my conscience and worries…

And went rogue.

Chapter Thirty-Four

______________________________

Pimlico

I’D ALWAYS KNOWN Elder could fight.

I’d sensed his power that first time in the white mansion. I’d witnessed it when he killed Darryl with one twist of his neck.

But this…this wasn’t Elder.

This was a demon dressed in a tux. There was no humanity left in his eyes as he delivered blow for blow. He kicked and pummelled. He broke bones and knocked out men without a second thought.

But no matter how many times he bested the bastards determined to kill him, they never stopped striking.

When one fell, a fresh one joined.

When one screamed, another one rushed to deliver like for like to Elder.

Elder was a machine. Inhuman. No matter how many swings he took, no matter how much blood gushed from his nose, he never made a sound.

He was the ghost his family called him.

He was the dragon inked on his chest.

I fought the man holding me. I ignored the enemies all around.

All I saw was Elder and the impeccable deadly dance he invoked.

I was desperate to go to his aid, to help…somehow. But tight hands never let me go, the sharp muzzle of a gun against my ribs never waning.

I daren’t cry out in case I distracted Elder. I enlisted my silence and forbade tears from tracking.

The battle continued terribly uneven with Elder vanishing amongst a cloud of opponents only to reappear with a perfectly aimed upper-cut.

Everyone focused on the fight in front of us. The crash of falling furniture and rip of bedding as they brought destruction to every inch of the suite.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the man I loved—the man I wanted to keep forever being hammered closer and closer toward death.

There were so many of them and only one of him. No matter how magical Elder looked fighting for his life—eventually, he would tire. Eventually, he would lose. Eventually, he would be dead and then…oh, God.

I couldn’t think about what would happen.

My heart was already broken.

My mind already fractured.

I didn’t breathe as Elder threw a man across his quarters, ducking as another fighter leapt onto his back. A sob plaited with a curse as Elder stumbled beneath his weight, twisting and clawing, tearing the Chinmoku away then round-house kicking him in the chest.

As the man soared to the floor, something caught my eye.

It took everything in me to tear my attention from Elder, but my heart restarted in sick, disgusting hope as the doors to the deck slowly slid open, cracking apart silently, hardly noticeable thanks to the opaque blackness of the glass matching the darkness of night beyond.

Oh, my God.

Selix.

Please, let it be Selix.

At least two would be better than one—no matter the never-ceasing tidal wave of agony Elder endured. At least he might have a weapon to combat the glint of knives flying around the room.

Only, Selix didn’t appear…two other men slipped into the room.

Two men I’d never seen before.

Both dark-haired and wearing black suits, they moved like shadows themselves. For a second, a scream percolated in my throat.

Were they more Chinmoku? Yet more assholes who wanted to murder the man I loved?

Elder had to know.

He must be prepared to somehow become immortal because he couldn’t die—not like this. I couldn’t watch him be murdered.

I can’t!

My mouth parted; my breathing manic as the two men stuck to the perimeter of the room, cloaked in obscurity. My teeth clacked together as they pulled out matching guns and pointed them at the Chinmoku. Not pistols or anything small, their weapons were big and automatic and carnage inducing.

They pointed them at the enemy and not my lover.

The minuscule faith that they were here to help rather than hinder kept me quiet.

I glanced at Elder.

He stood in the throng, hitting wildly, his face cold and concentrating even as blood rivered over his temple and cheek. Bruises decorated his skin. His hair wild and torn.

Even if these men were friends, he still needed to be warned.

They pointed their guns at the Chinmoku, but Elder was in the centre of their target.

He was in their line of fire—

They’ll kill him, too.

I opened my mouth to scream. “El—”

Too late.

A spray of bullets cut through the fight, ending it as suddenly as it had begun.

My scream turned into a cower as the man holding me automatically ducked for cover. The man named Kunio skittered out of the path of death as his warriors all tumbled like plucked weeds.

“Fucking vermin,” a French accent spat as another ricochet of bullets broke apart the group, sending men sprawling with multiple wounds.

“No!” I wriggled and fought, my eyes strained on the blood bath in front of me.

I can’t see him.