Nightfall (Devil's Night 4)

For that, I’d let him walk out of here on his own two feet.

He met her eyes, a moment of something I couldn’t place passing in his eyes. “Are you scared, Emory?” he asked her.

Her voice remained as still and calm as her body. “I’m the eye of the storm. You?”

He turned his head, looking at Alex, the longing stretching between them so strongly, I could almost feel it vibrating in the ground.

“I’m the storm,” he murmured.

Alex stayed rooted, Aydin standing there, feeling like a ticking bomb, and I saw someone shift out of the corner of my eye, but before I could place it, Winter spoke up. “Gun,” she said, sucking in a breath. “I heard someone chamber a round.”

I darted my eyes to Aydin, the hint of a smile on his lips, and then Martin reached for his gun in his holster, and I spun around, knowing all hell was about to break loose.

“Lev, take the kid!” I yelled. “Now!”

Lev grabbed the little girl and ran, everyone fanning out as we faced Martin and Aydin, some whipping around to face Aydin’s crew.

I looked to Em. “Hide.”

“Are you kidding?” she yelled.

And then she ran, shooting out her foot right into Martin’s chest, the gun knocking out of his hand as he fell back onto the ground.

The whole place descended into chaos.

Screams and shouts filled the air, someone taking Winter to the ground, and she kneed him right in the balls just as Damon got to her, pulling the guy off her.

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Martin’s gun clanked across the pavement, and he scrambled for it, but Em kicked it away. I was about to dive in, but she jumped on him, fury in her eyes as she wrapped her arms and legs around him and fought.

I turned to Aydin, who stood ready and willing.

“I’m leaving with one of them,” he informed me.

I charged for him. “You’re not leaving.”

You had that chance.

I threw a fist across his face, taking him to the ground, everyone around us fighting and growling. Winter crossed my mind, and I wanted to make sure she was okay. Did anyone have a gun out and ready to use on us? Did Lev make it out with the kid?

Where were the moms? Jesus.

Aydin threw me over and climbed on top, pinning me to the ground, his fist landing on my jaw, and my teeth cutting the inside of my mouth.

Someone screamed and others cursed, Aydin’s blood pouring down my hand where it seeped out of his nose.

We punched and fought, throwing kicks, and then he grabbed me by the collar, lifted me up, and slammed me into the pavement, my ears ringing and an ache coursing through my skull.

“Fuck,” I grunted, whipping him off me.

Rising to my feet, I kicked him in the face, watching him fly backward, and then I dived in from behind and wrapped my arm around his neck.

Holding him tight, I glanced behind me, seeing Emmy on the ground, her hoodie in Martin’s grasp as he slapped her.

No.

My hold loosened, and Aydin lurched forward, launching me over his body and onto the ground, coming around and throwing his kick across my face.