Page 26 of Remade
In a fraction of a second, when the forest was bright, I saw more shadows running away.
We were so goddamn outnumbered.
“I’ve had it with this fucking shock-and-awe bullshit!” Crew roared.
I took aim and fired several rounds, and I breathed in the pained cries and furious shouts coming from farther in.
“I wanna be sure we can win this,” I wheezed out. “Can they beat us, Crew?”
“Get that shit outta your head right fucking now,” he ordered. “The minute you think about losing, your mind starts to prepare for defeat. Don’t fucking go there.”
A new face crystallized next to the others in my mind. It was Crew. The warrior in him was someone to look up to, to take after, and to get inspired by. He was faster than me and reacted so quickly to whatever was going on around us.
“Quit worryin’, Gramps—we’re fine,” he responded, out of breath. “The others are fighting a crew across the clearing,” he informed me. “We’ve got six heat signatures over there, eleven over here. Quinn, Wilson, and Hudson are on their way to help us.”
“What about Beckett?”
He didn’t answer immediately, and I prayed it was because we suddenly faced our resistance. They were there the second we’d run around the fire. We had no time to waste or hesitate.
My stare flicked to register every man; they were spread out between the trees, some of them armed, so we started with them. We took down at least five of them before I ran out of ammo again.
By then, the first two men were almost in my face, so I threw myself into the fight.
What about Beckett?!
If he died, I didn’t know what I’d do with myself.
I put all my strength into kicking Blue Tee’s knee sideways, and he went down as I punched the other guy in the throat threetimes in quick succession. Then I had to go back to Blue Tee, and I stepped over him and grabbed his head.
In a fraction of a second, I saw nothing but death in his eyes. He wanted to kill me. Had he shot Beckett? Was this the fucker?
Liquid heat flowed through me in thick, violent currents, filling me with determination and something so dark I couldn’t identify it. Then I pushed him down, slamming his head against a rock?—
I squeezed my eyes shut and flew to the side, and I landed on my hip.Cocksucking motherfucker!Pain radiated through me, but Shay forced me back to action.Get the fuck back up, recruit. Now.I rolled aside before my next target could topple over me, and I jumped to my feet.
Stand your ground, son.
Holy fuck. A forceful chill ran down my chest, raising goose bumps in its wake. That wasn’t Shay. That wasn’t Shay at all. I’d officially lost my fucking mind. It was Dad. I saw him stepping up behind the others in my head, taking his place next to Ryan, and he nodded firmly at me.
Stand your ground.
I gritted my teeth so hard I thought I’d crush my molars, and I blinked past the sting in my eyes and attacked the beefy guy who’d knocked me over. I went at him faster than ever. I punched him in the liver, I slammed my forehead up his nose, I kneed him in the balls, and I shoved him down on the ground before I stomped on his chest.
I heaved a ragged breath and blinked. My gaze was becoming too unfocused, and it wasn’t the fucking time. Crew met up with me, and we had approximately four or five seconds before the next two reached us with knives held high.
Something hurt in my stomach, but I had this armor made out of soreness and adrenaline that prevented me from figuringout exact locations for sharper pains. In short, everything fucking hurt at this point.
“I’ll take Lefty,” Crew rasped.
I nodded and sucked in another breath. “Roger. And Beckett? Just answer me.” But before he could, we threw ourselves into the fight, and I fixed all my concentration on the knife. I grabbed Righty’s arm, twisted it, pulled up my knee, and bent his arm over it till it broke. That sure made him drop the blade, and I could pick it up when he fell over.
Hadthisguy shot Beckett, then?
I grabbed a fistful of Righty’s hair and yanked him up, and then I slit his throat with his own knife.
You’ll never shoot anyone again.
“Crew!” I growled.
