Sunrise Malice: Chapter 38

The mansion’s on fire.

Men are screaming nearby. Some of my soldiers didn’t get away fast enough and were caught in the blast. They were either broken to pieces by the initial explosion or shredded by the subsequent shrapnel, but either way, I can’t help them. The fire’s spreading along the carpets and into the drapes, sending thick plumes of dark smoke into the halls.

But the stairs are a wreck. Dusan must not have counted on that. Or maybe he did, and he’s trying to smoke us out the back way. Whatever his plan, I’m forced back with Jean toward the narrow second staircase, where things are still quiet.

“Only one option,” Jean says, looking grim as he gathers our remaining soldiers. There are only ten of us now, which isn’t nearly enough.

“Wait here,” I order them and rush back into Brianne’s room. The girls look terrified and Helga asks for a status report. I tell her what happened. “We have to leave,” I say, making it totally clear.

“How?” Brianne stares at Kim in horror. “She can’t walk. She can’t even move without serious help.”

“I can do it.” Kim pulls herself to the edge of the bed, grunting as she does it. “Get the wheelchair.”

“No, Kim, you could mess yourself up. Please⁠—”

“It’s either this or burn to death.” Kim looks at me and nods. I nod back, genuinely impressed by her bravery. “Come on, help me.”

Helga pulls the wheelchair around. I lift Kim from the bed as gently as I can but she still groans in agony as I place her upright. She’s sobbing and biting her lip from the pain, but she pushes Brianne away when she goes to check on her.

“We have to go,” Kim gasps.

Helga grabs Kim’s wheelchair and pushes her into the hall. I pull Brianne with me, holding her by the hand as tightly as I can. The fire’s getting closer and smoke’s filling the hall in thick plumes. Grandpère’s room is on the other side of the building, which means the ladder isn’t an option anymore. The stairs are the only option.

Jean and the remaining soldiers are grim. I pull Brianne tight and whisper to her. “I’ll die for you,” I say and kiss her neck. “Stay in the back with Helga and Kim. I’ll get you out.”

“Julien, please,” she says but I don’t let myself give in to weakness. If I stay with her, or if I let her stay with me, she’ll die. I can’t accept that outcome.

I force my way to the front of the group and look down the stairs to the landing down below. It’s quiet and empty—and definitely a trap.

“I’m going first,” I tell Jean, checking my ammunition. Half empty. “You follow once I’m through.”

“Is this the part where we say goodbye? Where we talk about how much fun it’s been?”

I punch him in the shoulder. “Fuck that. See you down there.”

He grins huge at me and nods back.

I take a step. I take another. I think of Brianne, my wife, the first woman I’ve ever met that makes me want to be a better man, and I take another. I descend into what’s going to be a hailstorm of bullets, but maybe, just maybe, if I can survive long enough, I can carve out some space for Jean and the men to do their work. Brianne can get out. I know she can get out.

Then the shooting starts.

I pause, halfway down the steps. There’s shouting and screams, and someone calls for a retreat, but that makes no sense. I hurry down, practically leaping the final few steps, and kick open the door that leads into the industrial kitchen.

It’s a bloodbath. Bodies are scattered all over the floor, and more men are spilling out the side door. I stare around me at the wreckage before spotting Niall and Ronan shooting at a group of Serbians, forcing them to fall back.

“You crazy motherfuckers,” I tell them in frank astonishment.

Niall looks over and nearly blows my head off, but Ronan stops him in time. The big, injured Irish crime boss comes toward me, face pale, unsteady on his feet, shirt stained with blood. His shoulder is bandaged using torn rags.

“Looks like you’re in bad shape,” he says, showing teeth.

“I could say the same to you.”

“We cleared the side door. Fuckers didn’t expect me and Niall to sneak up from behind. They’re regrouping in the living room, but if we’re fast, we can make it.”

I shout up for Jean. The soldiers come down first and start barricading the kitchen doors, tipping over shelves and shoving over worktables. It won’t hold long, but it’ll help. I hurry back up the steps and scoop Kim into my arms, apologizing each time I jostle her. She’s pale and crying quietly as we get her back in the chair at the bottom of the steps.

“This way,” I say and lead the girls to the side door. Ronan’s already there standing in the delivery bay with his gun drawn, making sure the place is clear. There’s nobody around. “The fucking Serbs must not have known about this.”

“What do we do once we’re out?” Brianne asks.

Suddenly, a gunshot cracks. I jerk sideways, instinctively covering Brianne’s body with my own. Helga’s next to me, her weapon aimed and smoking. Up ahead, a man tumbles down off a nearby roof and hits the ground hard. I stare at the German woman, my mouth hanging open.

“That was one hell of a shot,” I tell her.

Helga shrugs. “It is nothing. Now, we run.”

We sprint down the loading bay and into the alley. Kim’s chair rattles and she’s moaning in pain but she says nothing. Helga’s pushing, and I’m practically carrying Brianne. Jean, Niall, and the rest of the soldiers are bringing up the rear, as shouting and shooting start in the house behind us. The Serbians must’ve broken through the barricades.

“Go, this way,” I say, turning to the main block.

“But that’s where they are!” Jean yells.

That’s exactly my plan. We careen around the corner, and up ahead are the vans the Serbians used to get here in the first place.

And they’re only lightly guarded.

Helga takes one of the drivers out with a well-placed headshot. But that alerts the rest, and the firefight starts again. I swerve with Brianne, keeping her behind me, as I yank the corpse from the driver’s seat and make her get inside.

“Everyone, load up!” I yell as two of my soldiers get killed attempting to get in the back. Helga gets Kim inside right as Dusan and his men still in the mansion start pouring out the front door. Smoke dumps thick out the top windows and the fire’s raging out of control now.

Jean’s in the back with Niall and the last few soldiers still breathing. I start the van’s engine as Dusan starts shooting. Bullets ricochet off the metal paneling and crack the side window, nearly hitting me right in the skull.

I shove Brianne down and jam my foot on the gas, jerking the van forward, nearly losing control.

But the van hits pavement and we’re riding away from hell in the devil’s own fucking chariot.