Millions (Dollar 5)

Instantly, I lurched forward and grabbed his ankle. Yanking him down the stairs, I smashed his face into the steps and stomped on his spine, snapping something vital.

Mercer cleaned up my mess with yet another bullet to the back of the guy’s head. We weren’t here to drag out a defeat or let them see who we were before they died. If we could slaughter each one without them noticing us, that would be the best outcome.

Clean. Ruthless. Efficient.

Fourteen dead?

Or maybe the Chinmoku had brought guns of their own, even though it went against their code, and Mercer and I were the only ones standing.

We wouldn’t know until we came face to face with either victory or defeat.

Stumbling forward, I chased him as he melted back into darkness, stalking through his own home, looking for infiltrators.

My hands throbbed for throats to squeeze and lives to steal.

We’d been killing for hours or was it days? No matter the tick in my brain, I couldn’t seem to keep time straight anymore.

Another few gunshots, more men shouting in French and Japanese.

Bang.

Bang.

Fifteen, sixteen?

Are we close?

Are we winning?

Mathematical equations and probability calculations whirred in my brain as we skidded around another corridor and into the foyer again.

Two Chinmoku this time.

Bright red gloves and black uniforms with matching brutality on their face.

I took one.

Mercer took the other.

My method was hands-on and swift.

Mercer’s was coldblooded and sharp.

Both achieved the same result with glazed eyes and soul-dead carcasses.

Tripping back into a run, I gasped and swiped at fever-sweat stinging my eyes. My vision had once again gone hazy, my ears ringing, my body begging for rest. But I kept pushing, kept killing.

Soon.

Soon this will all be over.

Falling through the front door again, I spotted Selix fighting a young Chinmoku. He couldn’t have been more than late teens. A spitting image of me when I’d stupidly sold my soul into their custody.

The two men grappled on the grass. Selix’s gun just out of reach; most likely kicked out of his hand for hesitating before firing. The Chinmoku was just a kid—a kid intent on spilling blood. With a quick move, he yanked Selix into a throat lock.

A death lock.

No way in hell would I watch my friend be murdered.

Throwing myself toward the battle, Mercer fell back as if understanding Selix was my responsibility just as Franco was his. Not giving me a second glance, he veered to the left, his attention on his friend who also fought a Chinmoku, holding his own but not for much longer.

I stopped paying any attention to anyone but Selix and bowled straight into the bastard doing his best to kill my friend.

We tumbled to the ground, limbs flying, wounds bleeding. I kneed him in the balls as he tried to pin me on my back.

Unsportsmanlike behaviour but I didn’t give a fuck as I wrapped my fingers around his throat and squeezed. Even with my broken digit and no strength in my elbow, I slowly siphoned the life out of him as Selix picked up his gun and held it to the man’s temple.

He didn’t fire, watching coldly, letting me steal the world of yet another Chinmoku while providing backup if my hands failed in their task.

Slowly, the life drained from him. He faded into nothing and I let go, hating the touch of flesh that was no longer possessed by a soul.

As the dead man fell into a pile of limbs, a slurry of shame filled me. The Chinmoku might’ve been a good kid. He might’ve got wrapped up in this terrible faction the same way I did. He didn’t deserve to die just so me and mine could live.

“Prest.” Selix bent down, holding out his hand.

His voice, still filled with rocks from being strangled, snapped me from my haze. That Chinmoku would’ve killed my only friend—he didn’t deserve my mourning.

I clasped Selix’s palm gratefully, creaking upright, and for the first time, I truly felt my age. My injuries fucking crippled me and I honestly had no clue how I was still awake, let alone murdering men.

A terrible thought struck that I might not get through tonight, after all.

If my maths were correct there should only be two or three Chinmoku left, give or take. My calculations were as fuzzy as my stupid eyesight.

Selix pulled his hand away as we broke into a tired amble.

I tripped, almost face planting into the manicured grass.

He grabbed my shirt, providing leverage to keep me upright. “Stay alive for me, Prest.”

I nodded and tried to speak, but my tongue was as useless as the rest of me now. I shook my head, doing my best to see as we picked up our pace. I tripped again, this time crying out as my ankle turned into the Grim Reaper’s sickle.

“Fuck’s sake,” Selix muttered, wrapping his arm around my waist as we hobble-jogged back to the large house.