Page 91 of Savage Throne
He stumbled past me, caught off guard by my sudden movement, and crashed into the cot face first.
Oh shit!
I quickly scrambled to my feet, gripping the guns tightly in my hands and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
His body jerked back with the impact.
The grin that had been etched onto his face was replaced with an expression of surprise.
Someone punched me in the back of the head.
I stumbled forward, spun around before I could recover and fired twice. The bullets boomed like thunder in the enclosed space.
Screams filled the air as more men rushed at me.
I ran off to the left, fired again, and got a man in the knee. He collapsed with a shout, knocking into a man next to him.
Up ahead, there was a stack of crates.
I sped up.
Once close, I got behind them for cover and fired out a few times.
Bodies fell.
And then silence.
Sweet.
Calm.
Silence.
Jesus. . .
My breaths came in ragged gasps as I crouched behind the crates, and my heart slammed against my ribcage.
The tent was quiet, punctuated only by the groans of the wounded and the shuffling of feet as men shifted.
Alright.
I steadied my breath.
What do I do now?
I peeked out.
Bullets and guns might not have been the Four Aces’ weapon of choice, but the glint of steel was in all their hands. Knives, swords, and spears—all gleamed in the dim light, brandished by men who now stayed back and didn’t charge forward.
I don’t know what to do next. How the fuck am I going to get out of here? It’s more of them than me.
I glanced to the left and realized in pure horror that I had shot a good bit of men.
There was a trail of them either groaning in pain or dead.
Oh. Not bad. . .
I blinked.
