“Is that a promise?” Seb asked. I laughed and pushed him to keep following the others. But yes, it was most definitely a promise. Maybe that could be their reward if I got out of there alive.

We descended down into the basement, each step more precarious than the last with the light dwindling. When we rounded the corner, a soft yellow light started to permeate the darkness. I watched the guys’ backs, tense from holding their guns at their chests, and followed, trying to keep myself against the walls to blend in with the shadows. When we crept out of the stairwell, there was music pouring out from some double doors down the hall.

“Well, at least we know they won’t hear you coming,” I muttered into Seb’s back. “Is that…Nickelback?” I made a gagging noise, and I felt Seb chuckle through my grip on his shirt. I hadn’t realized I was still holding on to him. I unclenched my fingers and let my hands fall idly to my sides.

“Yep, that would be Nickelback,” he confirmed.

“Gross.”

We moved up to the doors, and I crossed behind them, moving to the corner where I could be almost invisible unless someone was looking for me. From that spot, I would be able to see someone coming for those doors at any angle. Tristan looked at me and nodded.

“Stay hidden. Stay safe.”

“Yes, yes, I’ve got it. Stay out of the way.” He walked over and took my face in his hands. The look on his face took my breath away. And then when he kissed me, I realized why he was being so annoying. He was worried. He broke the kiss and looked at me. “Stop worrying about me. You need to focus to keep yourself safe,” I whispered so only he could hear. He nodded and walked back to the guys.

“Alright, when we burst through those doors, keep your eyes open and your guns ready.” Sebastian and Elliot both nodded. Tristan blew out a breath and then turned towards the double doors with the other two at his back.

He kicked open the doors and strutted in like he owned the place. Sebastian looked over at me briefly and winked before setting off inside after them. The second those doors were open, a soft floral but also very chemical smell came wafting out, and I nearly gagged on the sickly sweet scent. I couldn’t hear much over the music blasting through the room, and once the doors swung closed again, I was completely shut off from whatever conversations were happening.

I took deep breaths, trying to slow my heartbeat so that I could hear any noises that weren’t coming from inside. I was shifting from one foot to the other, nervous energy racking through my body. There had to be more people in this place. It was huge, and there was no way the bosses would be in that room. But there was also no way they would leave it unprotected.

Not thirty seconds later, I heard footfalls on the stairwell. Fuck. I grabbed both guns out of the holsters and aimed them at the door we had just come out of only a few minutes ago. Fuck whistling, I was not about to let a hoard of men bust through those doors and possibly kill one of them.

“Oh, shit,” I whispered to myself as the doors burst open. Person after person ran through those doors. There had to be at least ten of them running down the hall and straight towards the crack den. I didn’t even think—I just started shooting. I aimed for chests and foreheads, watching each guy drop to the ground like a sack of fucking potatoes. I was shooting so quickly they barely had time to get any shots off in my direction. But I was hidden, so they couldn’t even aim. Maybe Tristan had a point after all.

I laughed as the last one looked towards the corner where I was, practically shitting himself as he realized all of his guys were now dead on the floor. I took aim one last time and popped a bullet right in between his eyes. I blew on the barrel like I was straight out of an old Western and smiled. That was fun.

And then shots started popping off behind those doors. The doors my boys had gone through. My boys. I smiled and walked over to one of the men on the floor and ran my fingers through the warm puddle of blood. I streaked it across my cheeks like war paint, grabbed two more guns, and then kicked open the doors.

Tags: Dana Isaly The Triad Erotic
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