Chapter Four

AK

I burst through the doors of the dorm to see Cowboy sitting on the floor outside our rooms. His Stetson was in his hands, his blond hair sticking up in all directions, and he was staring at a spot of dirt on the opposite wall. He looked up when I kicked his thigh with the tip of my boot.

His face was like thunder as his blue eyes met mine. He got to his feet. “What now?” he asked coldly.

“Where’s Vike?”

Cowboy tipped his head toward Vike’s room. The door was shut. I brushed past Cowboy, hearing his footsteps following behind me. I opened the door and saw my brother sitting on his bed. His huge arms were tense under his tight shirt. His hair was scraped back into a bun on the top of his head. And for once in his fucking dumb life he wasn’t laughing. He looked me dead in the eyes. “I’ve done some fucked-up shit in my life, can kill without remorse, fuck any kind of bitch in all different ways, but what they’ve got those bitches doing in this place makes me wanna cut off some cocks and eat them for breakfast.”

“Keep your shit together.” I looked at Cowboy. “Both of you. Get some sleep. Tomorrow we get into that fucking saloon. I need to scope this place some more. I’m gonna try to get a shack, the barber shack. I need to get as close to the dentist shack as I can.”

“You’ve seen her?” Vike asked, his voice harder than normal.

“Saw Meister carrying a redhead into the dentist cabin. Her weight was different to when we last saw Phebe, but I’m pretty fucking sure it’s her.” I ran my hand down my face. “Go into the barn again tomorrow. Same shit, different day. Once I get a visual on her, confirmation she’s here, and I’ve got a full assessment of the layout and the guards’ shift patterns, I’ll get my shit together and work up a plan to get her out.”

Vike and Cowboy nodded. I went back toward my room but stopped outside Flame’s. I silently opened the door and looked inside. My fucking chest tightened when I saw him, shirt off, sitting on the cold, hard floor. His head was tipped down, and blood trickled around him from the freshly cut slashes on his arm.

A jet-black soulless gaze met mine. I entered the room and shut the door. Before I even had a chance to speak, Flame growled, “I don’t fucking like it here.” He shook his head, and his lips curled over his teeth. “They need to die. They all need to die.” Flame hissed as he cut into his forearm. “I need to kill them.”

There was the old Flame, the one I knew better than the calmer brother he’d been lately. “And you’ll get your chance,” I promised. “You just need to give me time.”

Flame glared at me, reading my face. When he’d made eye contact too long, he dropped his eyes and said, “Just get me a fucking kill.” His face tightened. “I . . . I can’t help what I’ll do if you don’t.”

Back in my room, I slumped on the bed and dropped my head back against the headboard. I closed my eyes. Then, like they did every night, the fucking storm of memories came crashing in; guilt and shame ran through my every fiber. Visions of blood drowned my mind and choked the breath from my lungs . . .

“We gotta go.” Bones ripped through the opening of my tent. I was on my feet in seconds. I grabbed my gun and my helmet and ran outside toward the truck. The place was fucking chaos.

“What’s going on?” I asked as we pulled out of the gate.

Bones tensed. “Ambush.”

“Where?” I asked.

“In the north, X.”

“Devin,” I said and stared out of the window. Sand stretched for miles. Sand and fucking derelict buildings.

Bones’s hand came down on my shoulder. “We’ll get there. He’ll be good. He’s a fucking good solider, X.”

But Bones’s words meant shit.

The sound of gunfire and RPGs led us to the ambush. “Go, go, go!” our sergeant screamed as we fled from the truck. “X, Bones, get me some fucking eyes from above. Need to see what we’re dealing with.”

I let my feet follow Bones as we darted behind the crumbling buildings, searching for one where we could get some height. “Here!” Bones said, and we climbed the stone stairs that led to a rooftop. Bombs screamed around us, sand and debris spraying into my face in the hot breeze.

Devin. Where the fuck are you.

I dove to my stomach next to Bones. I propped up my rifle and looked through the lens. Bones searched through his binoculars. “Fuck,” he said. “Fuckers are everywhere.”

One soldier, then another, fell to the ground as they were hit. Blood poured from their arms and legs, and I felt myself fucking burning with anger. “Bones, get me a fucking kill,” I snarled and focused through my lens.

I saw the men on the ground, and my anger burned even brighter when I saw they were two of Devin’s men. “Oorah!” Bones shouted, the cry of the Marines and ducked down beside me.

“North,” Bones said. I switched my gun in that direction. “West, two clicks.” My nostrils flared when I saw the prick with the RPG come into focus. The world fell away.

I lined up my shot with the fucker’s skull. “Target on.” The hot wind blew against my face, the sun burning the skin. And I waited. I waited until . . .

“Now!”

I pulled the trigger.

Shouts went up around him as he dropped off the post he held and smashed to the ground.

“Direct hit,” Bones said, then, “Shit! Incoming!” He reached for his radio to warn the sergeant of the two trucks coming from the east, but it was too late. I scrambled to turn my rifle, and as I did, I caught sight of a familiar face, hunkering down behind a building with three of his men. “Devin,” I called, grabbing Bones’s arm. But the trucks opened fire, raining bullets and RPGs from the back. Explosions burst around the buildings, and the smoke clouded my vision of my brother.

“Get me a fucking visual!” I demanded.

Bones searched through his binoculars and steadied his out-of-control breath. “Northwest, three clicks.”

A flash of a body came across my lens. “Sighted.”

“Wait . . . wait . . . now!” Bones called, and I fired. I fired shot after shot, but the fucking bombs kept coming. And I lost sight of Devin. Through the smoke and blood and heat, Devin disappeared . . .

My eyes snapped open. I was drenched with sweat. I stared at the end of my bed and the ghosts that fucking came every night. They ain’t real, I told myself. They ain’t fucking real.