The Resurrection (Unlawful Men)

“What the fuck?” Goldie yells.

“Blow it,” Perry says evenly, relishing the drama, his hands in his pockets.

“No!” Beau screams.

I breathe in, giving her regretful eyes. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, pushing down on the button.

“Danny,” Rose screams.

“Noooooooo!” Beau breaks free from Goldie, and I yell as she starts running toward the container. “Beau, for fuck’s sake!” I bellow. “Get a—”

Bang!

A ball of fire bursts into the sky, halting Beau in her tracks, and everyone shields their eyes from the blinding glare. She falls to her knees, broken, staring at the raging fire, and I rip my eyes away from her collapsed, crying form, unable to handle it.

I find Rose. Her devastation is equally unbearable, her head mildly shaking, as if she can’t believe what I’ve done. The disappointment. I can’t say I like it, and in complete shame, I look away from her too, finding Perry Adams. He’s always been a snake. But I never, not once, considered he could be The Bear. And now, watching him delight in the carnage, I have no faith that he’ll keep his word. And that’s more of a problem with Rose and Beau here. God damn those women. I loathe their loyalty.

I can feel the gun still pressed into my skull. “Time to ease off,” I say, pulling away, only to have the gun rammed back into my head. I still, pushing back the monster before he erupts and gets us all killed.

“I’ll ease off when I’m told to.”

“Your death just got messier,” I say darkly, turning my eyes onto Perry. “Tell him to back the fuck off.”

The sick smile he gives me says more than his traitorous mouth could speak. “I don’t think so,” he muses, nodding to his men. They all start moving in, herding us like sheep toward the cabin as the fire rages not too far away. I watch Brad claim Rose, bringing her to me, and Otto pulls Beau to her feet, walking her along. Her eyes meet mine. I know of the levels of hatred reflecting back at me. I take Rose’s hand and walk up the steps to the cabin, turning when I reach the top.

I scan the yard, mentally willing him to hurry the fuck up. “You’re out of your depth, Perry.”

He laughs. “You know, three years ago when you asked me to dig up everything I could find on the Greens, I assumed you were using the skeletons in their closet to blackmail them.” He looks at Rose. “Of course your whore would need an attorney.”

I inhale discreetly. “Call her a whore again, I will kill you, Adams.”

“Danny,” Rose whispers, squeezing my hand, telling me without telling me not to poke the fucking bear.

“I never imagined the kid they bought was Rose’s,” he goes on.

I glance across to Brad and give him a moment of my eyes. He shifts, uncomfortable. Then I look at Ringo. When my eyes catch Otto and Goldie, I see understandable utter contempt. Fuck. I turn my stare onto the green container, seeing the flames beginning to subside, and I smile, the extinguishers dowsing it from beyond disguised by the roar of the flames. Another flick of my eyes to Brad and the others, who all discreetly look toward the container too. Then I look at Beau, willing her to see me. Look at me, Beau.

“Tell me, Adams,” I say, holding out four fingers on the hand hanging by my side. “How do you want to die?” Rose’s body tensing tells me she’s reading the signs. I just hope everyone else is. I drop to three fingers, squeezing her hand.

“I’m not dying, Black. You, your whore, and your pathetic army are the ones dying.”

I drop to two fingers. Hurry up, hurry up. My eyes scan the dying flames. “We made a deal.” One finger.

“I’ve changed my mind.”

I make a fist. No fingers left. “More fool you,” I breathe as the hatch that leads to the bunker flies open and James steps out, a machine gun in each hand. Fuck me, it’s like the rising of the Phoenix. “What took you so fucking long?” I call.

I hear the collective inhales of everyone behind me as Perry and his men turn, confused.

“Drop,” I yell, dragging Rose to the floor, hearing everyone hitting the deck behind us. But I have to see this, so I look up as James starts showering bullets across them, walking through the embers, sweating, smeared in muck, his body vibrating. It’s a mixture of the guns and his fury, and yet I can see by the satisfied sneer on his face that he’s enjoying himself. The men drop like flies, the noise is deafening, and I watch the show with a smile until no man is standing. The yard is littered with bodies, the dusty air dense, the echoes of gunfire ringing in my ears.