Merciless Saints (St. Monarch's Academy 1) - Page 36

“Everyone ready?” he asks.

“Yes.” Cillian’s answer is clipped, all his focus on the road.

Damien turns his gaze to mine. “Just do as I say.”

I nod and check my gun again. After a long hour and a half, the hair on the back of my neck prickles from not looking behind me. I sit frozen, my eyes darting over the scenery I can see.

It’s only a matter of time.

Will they attack instantly or follow us to our destination?

Suddenly Cillian curses, “Fuck. Here they come.”

Damien glances behind us, and then he lets down his window. Cillian does the same, and it has me opening mine as well.

Damien grabs hold of the back of my neck, and then I’m shoved down on top of his bag. “Stay down. This car isn’t bulletproof.”

I move down into the foot space between the seats, and it earns me a nod from Damien.

My heartbeat begins to speed up as the seconds tick by.

My mind clears off all grief, of all worry, and for a blessed moment, it’s silent inside of me.

“Brace yourselves,” Cillian snaps.

They slam into the back of our car, and it instantly makes my blood rush through my veins.

Damien braces his right knee on the back seat and positions his gun between the two headrests.

“Stay down, poppet.” Cillian’s words aren’t even cold when the first spray of bullets shatters the back window.

Damien ducks and then starts to return fire.

More glass shatters, and our car lurches forward as we take another bump from behind. With my eyes glued to Damien, my fingers tighten around the gun, my finger ready on the trigger.

Damien takes another shot, and then squealing tires fill the air.

“Nice shot,” Cillian compliments him.

Damien is quiet and tense, never taking his focus off our enemy.

Our enemy.

With bullets flying and death ready to feast, the realization fills every part of me.

I have Damien Vetrov. I have the best custodian.

“Five minutes out,” Cillian mutters. “Just five minutes.”

The sound of gunfire increases, which means their reinforcements just joined.

“Call Demitri,” Damien growls at me. “Tell him we’re close.”

I move a little up and grab Damien’s phone from where it was lying on top of his bag, and press redial on the last number.

“Where are you?” A vicious growl comes over the line.

“It’s Winter. We’re four minutes out.”

“One jeep, two SUVs, and a sedan,” Damien shouts.

“Did you hear that?” I ask Demitri.

“Yes. We’re ready. Go straight for the hanger.”

The call ends, and I toss the phone back on the bag. “Demitri says they’re waiting in the hanger.”

“Got it,” Cillian grinds out as he takes a sharp turn.

My body falls back between the seats, but Damien doesn’t move at all as he keeps returning fire.

“I see it,” Cillian shouts, relief bleeding into his words.

Damien sits back down, and keeping his head low, he reloads his weapons. His eyes lock on mine. “You do not leave my side.”

I nod quickly.

“Get ready,” Cillian grits the words out between clenched teeth, and then he swerves sharply, bringing the SUV to a sudden stop.

Damien opens my door, and yanking me up, he pushes me out the door. As he climbs out behind me, bullets spray into the other side of the car.

Heavy fire is returned and glancing to my left and right, immense relief washes over me when I see Demitri and Alexei.

“Go!” Demitri shouts.

Damien grabs hold of my arm, and then I’m yanked to my feet as we begin to run.

Glancing over my shoulder, I watch as Cillian stays by the SUV to help take out the enemy. We rush through wide doors, and then Damien slams my back against the steel.

When he moves into the open and begins to fire shots, I peek around the door. I watch as one man after the other falls.

My eyes go to Alexei, who’s taking them out with a grin on his face.

Mother of saints. He looks like death itself.

As my gaze turns to where Demitri is, I latch onto Cillian, who’s positioned between them. It’s only for a second, and then his body flies back.

A scream rips from me, and I dart forward. I feel Damien's fingers claw at the sweater I’m wearing, but I’m too fast for him. Lifting my arms, I begin to shoot as I run toward Cillian. A bullet whizzes past my head, and I take down three men in the short distance and then drop to my knees next to Cillian. He’s gasping for air, and his eyes instantly lock onto mine. “Poppet.”

I press both my hands to the wound in his chest. “Cillian,” I gasp. His blood seeps through my fingers, and I push harder to try and stop it. “God, Cillian.”

No. No. No.

Horror begins to crash over me, threatening to drown me in unbearable pain. I watch the last person who means the world to me struggle to breathe, and it makes something shatter inside of me.

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