Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
This is Chicago. Yeah, there are a lot of murders in Chicago, but that doesn’t mean the CPD would ignore a goddamn full-on shootout.
Which means someone on the inside of the department is holding them back.
I should be more cautious. I’m dimly aware of that as I hit the crossroad that leads to the oasis entrance.
But the second I spot bodies lying on the sidewalk, my mind goes blank, and all I can do is push down the gas and whip my truck right onto the block.
There are corpses where the usual guards would be. Their bodies are mangled, ripped to pieces, and it’s my first clue about what’s going on. Those are my father’s boys and they died trying to hold the line, which means this is most likely an attack from outside.
The moment I’m across the border and into the oasis, gunfire rakes across my truck, breaking the window and the windshield and pelting my face and side with glass.
I slam on the brakes and turn to the left. The front bumper rams into someone else’s truck and I’m thrown against the steering wheel, but the airbag blows, and my face is mostly cushioned as it slams me back against the seat. My ears are ringing and there’s more gunfire all around me, and I’m barely conscious enough to unlatch my seatbelt, kick open my door, and throw myself down onto the street.
My head’s a dizzy wreck. Across from me, on the other side of the cars, the houses have their doors kicked in. Those homes are usually empty—they’re for visitors and various guards and soldiers that need a break—but right now their windows are smashed in and they look like they’ve been ransacked. There’s another body lying on the sidewalk, but I can’t tell who it is.
More gunfire strafes my truck. I draw my handgun and lean against the side, hurrying back toward the bed. The moment I look out, there’s more gunfire from across the street and it nearly takes my fucking skull off. I duck back down, cursing as my truck’s lit up, the tires loudly popping. But once the shooting is over, I reach into the bed and snatch a canvas-wrapped package, narrowly pulling it out before more shooting whizzes through the air inches above my skull.
It’s fucking chaos. There’s screaming and shouting from further in the oasis, but whoever’s attacking must’ve been smart enough to leave a few guys behind to ambush anyone stupid enough to come inside.
Heart racing, I unzip the bag and slowly draw out a high-powered sniper rifle. I fit the scope, hands surprisingly steady, and load the magazine. I tuck two spares into my back pockets.
I throw myself forward, duck down between two busted-up SUVs, and crouch on their far side. I’m wide open if anyone’s hiding in the ravaged houses but there’s nothing else I can do but hope the attackers are only on one side. I hurry forward, putting some space between myself and my truck, and keeping as low as possible.
When I stop to take a break, I risk another peek into the street.
My breath gets caught in my throat.
Parked in the very center of the oasis are four giant armored vehicles, the kind that security companies use to transport huge loads of cash. Their backs and doors are open and men are posted all around their perimeter carrying bulletproof shields and wearing bulletproof armor. They’re firing long guns, modified AK-47s and AR-15s, while men in the houses around them return fire.
There are more corpses nearby. The stink of gunpowder and death is thick in the air. Bodies bleed in small streams, filling the gutters. Some are covered in armor, but most are guys wearing street clothes with small caliber pistols on the ground beside them.
My people. Slaughtered.
Leaning on the trunk of a sedan, I take aim at the armored man closest to me and pull the trigger. The rifle bucks and the bullet slaps into his helmet, knocking him sideways, and he drops. He’s either dead, his brains a scrambled mess in his skull, or he’s knocked out and won’t be getting up for a while.
I aim at another, steady myself with a breath, and fire again. Another downed attacker, and this time I get the pleasure of a spray of blood from the bullet hole.
Another. Another. I kill five before they return fire, forcing me back down.
There are more of them. Too many of them. Eventually they’ll flank me and take me down, no matter how fast I move, but my head’s surprisingly clear.
This is my home. This is the oasis, the most heavily guarded city street in the whole fucking world. I’m going to die here rather than let these people invade what’s mine, and I’m going to die with a fucking smile on my face.