Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 145942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 730(@200wpm)___ 584(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 730(@200wpm)___ 584(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Carver races in ahead of us and the one shot that flies from his gun tells me everything I need to know—Montgomery’s hunch was right.
Paris Moustaff is going to die today.
CHAPTER 36
With the guard down, we race in after Carver to find a narrow stairwell that leads up through the floors and hopefully right into the center of my parent’s penthouse apartment. The noise from the explosion should have Paris’ guards already preparing themselves, and I don’t doubt that by the time we hit the top of the stairs, they’ll already be bearing down on us.
Despite not needing help, Cruz’s hand curls around my upper arm as he flies up the stairs, taking them two at a time and practically dragging me along with him, terrified that I’ll get left behind. While I hate the feeling of having someone pulling me along, I’m grateful. The guys’ long, powerful legs are twice the size of mine, and while I’ve been training hard, I don’t hold that same kind of explosive power to shoot up the stairs the way they can. Even on my best day, I simply can’t keep up with them.
Carver is barely hitting the last step before the door at the top is kicked in and at least three guards hover inside the entrance, their guns out, locked and loaded.
The four boys split. Carver and Cruz go to the right, gluing themselves to the wall as Grayson and King fly to the left, pushing right up beside the railing and instantly returning fire, not skipping a damn beat.
Both King and Cruz drop to a knee behind Carver and Grayson, hitting the guards at all angles as I fold myself in behind the boys, avoiding every one of those bullets that come flying toward me.
I’d give anything to shoot back at them, but there’s only one narrow door and four boys to get that bullet past before I’d have any hope of actually taking any of the guards down. If they lost the fucking guns though, I bet I’d be able to kick a few asses.
Bullets ricochet off the concrete walls, flying past my face, and I don’t miss the way Cruz shields me with his body, though I’d give anything for him to not. Having his body angled like this just puts him at risk and I’d hate for him to get clipped with a bullet because he was too busy trying to protect me.
The boys’ aim is impeccable, and while the guards are raining bullets down over us, the boys only need a handful to take out the guards, Grayson even going as far as sending a clean bullet right between the eyes of the guard to his left, but what can I say? We’re not here to make friends and we sure as hell don’t want to take out a threat only to get kicked in the ass by them later on. When a threat goes down, we make sure they stay down. We’ve been burned by people rising from the dead and we won’t get caught out like that again.
They all go down as the sound of gunfire eases from the small stairwell, the echo taking a moment longer to fade completely and giving me the chance to hear myself think, but there’s no time for that. Every second we’re stuck in this stairwell is another opportunity for Paris to escape.
Carver creeps to the open door, his gun entering the penthouse first. He goes slowly as Grayson steps in behind him, the boys creating a line with me right at the end. When Carver finally steps over the threshold, his gaze sweeps the room, just the way he’s been trained to do.
His shoulders relax just a touch and he walks deeper into the penthouse, letting the rest of us know that this space is cleared for now, but who the fuck knows where there could be more guards hiding in this place.
We have no way of knowing how long Paris has been staying in my parents’ penthouse, but she’s got the advantage of knowing the layout much better than we do. We’ve seen the apartment through images and floorplans while she’s had time to figure out all the hidden secrets of this home. She knows all its little hide-outs and crevices and because of that, we can’t let our guard down. Any corner, cabinet, or wall could pose a threat. We need to be careful and have each other’s backs even when we think we’re in the clear. Hell, who knows how many more guards Paris has been keeping here.
We step into hollow silence, moving past the dead guards at the door and creeping through the living room, and fuck, it’s eerie. I don’t see another soul, but my gut is telling me that she’s here somewhere.