Page 11 of Bound By Thorns
I stared him down and shook my head in disgust.
“Or maybe she’s just cock-hungry. Bet she’d suck us all if given the chance.”
“If you don’t shut up,Brodie, I will slit your fucking throat and enjoy the little gurgles you’d make while I stare you down,” I growled.
He held up his hands in surrender, grinning and finally went silent. I closed my eyes for a nap and tried my best to calm the fuck down.
???
“Get down. Get down!” Zarek yelled beyond the cloud of smoke and dust.
We were taking fire. The Afghan sun rose above, scorching the earth beneath us. I was sweating in my gear, my goggles doing little to protect me from the sand.
We had been ambushed, Zarek, Dylan, Maxton and I. The fire ceased momentarily. Our eyes scanned the eerily quiet village ahead. Suddenly, the silence shattered, bullets zipped close, too close, pelting the ancient stone walls we used for cover. I spun and saw Zarek taking heavy fire behind the truck. Dylan, Max and I were relatively safer, but Zarek needed cover.
I risked a glance, saw the enemy’s position, and without thinking, I made a dash, the heat of the bullets like whispers of death brushing by.
“Gunner, what the fuck?!” Dylan shouted.
I reached Zarek, and as I slid next to him, dust clouded around us.
Our refuge was scant, a crumbling truck, barely enough to shield our bodies. Zarek tried to peer out, but the sharp tat-tat-tat of returning fire forced him back, his expression tight with tension.
One well-aimed bullet, and the truck would explode. We had to get away from here.
“We’re pinned, but we’ve handled worse,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
“You have a death wish, Gunner.”
I grinned at him, and then immediately spotting an opportunity, I threw a grenade toward the enemy line, the explosion momentarily leveling the playing field.
“On me, Ghost!” I shouted, and we sprinted towards a battered structure that offered better cover.
Our run was a blur of heat and dust, our boots pounding the scorched earth. We barged into a dark room, the detonation’s echoing our only companion as we paused to catch our breath.
Grinning despite the grime and sweat, I clapped Zarek on the shoulder.
“That’s two for me, Ghost. I’ve just saved your ass again,” I joked, the thrill of the skirmish still dancing in my veins.
Zarek’s strained smile slowly morphed into a reluctant laugh.
“Stop keeping count, jackass!”
???
A harsh slap jolted me awake, Tyka’s familiar wide grin looming over me.
“Spa day, 424,” he chuckled, his humor as dark as the cell.
Spa day was anything but. It meant enduring the icy kiss of a slab and the tight grip of manacles.
“Perhaps you could lay me on my back today, Tyk? It’s hurting a lot,” I said, my voice laced with a grim jest.
He clenched my jaw, his fingers digging in menacingly. “Don’t. Call. Me. Tyk,” he hissed. “This is you, isn’t it? Making jokes. Even at my expense. But I’m not a kid anymore. So remember, keep silent today, and I might ‘forget’ you in the chamber.”
I shoved his hand away, rolling my eyes, and followed him to the chamber as if on a leisurely walk, not a march to potential death.
“You know, when the boss thinks he has everything he needs from you, I would be happy to shut your mouth for good, Logan,” Tyka smirked.
