Deviants (Badlands 2)

“Well, I’m telling you to go open that door. They could say something useful, and every second you stand here trying to stop me is another second wasted.”

He stared at me without saying a word—or I imagined he was. I couldn’t see his eyes beneath the mask. “Don’t worry about me, I’ve done this before,” I reassured him, and didn’t wait to see if he responded or not. I darted down the hall.

I set my pace at a quick jog, trying to keep my steps quiet on the old wooden floor. Jericho’s age showed everywhere I looked. Old woodwork and arches portrayed a design from a different era.

It was beautiful in its own special way. Too bad, really, because I wanted it burned down.

The place was just as large on the inside as it looked on the out.

I slowed when I got as close to the front room as I dared, hearing voices just like Jeremy said. Peeking around the corner, I saw the room was set up to my advantage. The pews all sat horizontally in the opposite direction.

I’d just spotted Bishop Jonah at the front of a group of delegates when the room exploded into a flurry of activity. Acolytes rushed in from the opposite hall.

Jonah didn’t waste one second, taking off at a run for a stairwell in the back of the room. I debated what to do for only a split second. Pews were shoved backward, screeching across the floor and slamming into the ones behind them with loud, echoing booms.

It had gone from a meeting to a bloodbath in a matter of seconds, and the Savages had nothing to worry about.

The acolytes were ruthless. They were an impenetrable shadow that moved as one.

Anyone in their way was heinously cut down. This wasn’t even a fraction of them; I couldn’t picture dealing with the entire army.

I took one last look at the scene before me and then made a mad dash for the stairs.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

He’d beat me upstairs by taking another staircase.

The fucker was always ten steps ahead of me.

I crept down the hall towards their voices, snagging a heavy bronze chalice off a decorative podium.

“You were always my favorite, Romeo.”

What the fuck? I froze just a few doors away from where they were.

“Look at you,” Jonah wheezed. “Your father is so proud of you, my boy.”

Confusion clouded my brain but I didn’t get much time to dwell on his words. The telltale click of a gun had my legs moving on their own accord.

I peeked through a slit in the door and saw Jonah aiming a tiny black gun at Romero. My heart stumbled and sped up. This fraudulent fuck had the balls to point a gun at my beloved devil.

Before I even realized what I was doing, I had the door flying the rest of the way open. Jonah’s head whipped around and he gaped in what looked like confusion. It gave Romero the small distraction I knew he needed.

He grabbed hold of Jonah’s arm and wrenched in a full circle, bringing the man to his knees. There was a loud crunch, followed by a gunshot.

I moved up behind Jonah and swung the chalice like it was a bat, crashing it into the side of his head. An audible gong sounded from the heavy cup and he fell to the side.

Romero looked at me for a split second before taking over. He flipped an unconscious Jonah onto his stomach and jumped up.

He seemed to be searching the room for something, seeing as it was a study of some sort; I was lost as to what.

His eyes were impossibly dark. I could feel the anger rolling off him in suffocating waves. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the first part of Jonah’s words. There was only one reason why a man like him would have called a younger Romero his favorite.

Sick fucking asshole.

I didn’t say anything. I moved to the corner where a desk was and lowered myself onto it. There were no words I could say to make this okay for him.

“I’m sorry they hurt you too,?