Gangs Aren't My Style (A Black Death Novel)

Chapter 79 - Checkmate

Gangs Aren't My Style

Book I of the Black Death Trilogy

PART FOUR :: Leave The Front Line Behind

Chapter 79 - Checkmate

"We will attack two weeks from the day you light the signal."

The words replayed in Ally's mind like a broken record, giving her no rest as she leaned back against the headboard of her bed. She drew her knees up to her chest, setting her chin in the valley formed between her two kneecaps. Taking in deep breaths, she tried to remind herself that this was what she wanted even as gunshots and frantic shouts rang throughout the gang base, echoing down the hallways until they dispersed into the various rooms, slipping through the small gaps under the doors. She knew she shouldn't feel bad because these men were only thieves and murderers, but the sounds of death seemed to ring in her heart, bringing with them a sharp twinge of regret. No matter how she tried to spin the story or convince herself otherwise, the truth remained that she had betrayed her brother.

Her door burst open then, swaying on its now broken hinges as the smashed wood released a spray of splinters and then smashed into the wall. Ally jumped, releasing a short cry of alarm before she covered her mouth with her hand. Fright having clouded her senses, the only reminder that she was not in any immediate danger from this attack was Trenton's commanding voice flowing through the opening.

"I will not repeat myself again, drop your weapons and put your hands in the air!"

Ally shivered at the ice in his voice while at the same time taking comfort in his presence, knowing that he would make sure nothing went wrong. She warily raised her eyes to the young SWAT officer standing in the doorway, deliberately not making any quick movements when she noticed the gun held firmly in his hand.

"Is there anyone else in here?" he demanded, his gun remaining cocked as he began to check the entire room according to procedure.

"No."

He nodded to show that he'd heard but still finished his round of the room before lowering his gun and sliding it back into the holster at his side. Ally didn't move from her position, her eyes suspiciously following his path as he walked towards where she was sitting on the bed.

Without warning, he took a rapid step forward to bring himself directly beside the bed, his hand flying out from behind his back before cold metal clasped around her wrist. Eyes wide, she let out a low hiss of pain when he roughly pulled that arm roughly behind her back. Ally was thrown forward in a tangle of limbs as he used her moment of stunned surprise to grab her other wrist and drew it behind her back with astonishing force.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, fighting to pull her arm from his grasp even as he successfully closed the cuff around her second wrist, securing them both together behind her back.

"Just play along," he whispered lightly by her ear, dragging her backwards off the bed and sending her stumbling in his grip as she fought to catch her balance from the sudden change in elevation. His hands were clasped tightly around her biceps as he forced her feet to regain their sense of movement with a rough push forward.

Once in the hallway, her steps faltered and her heart skipped a beat. Scattered across the ground around her were various discarded guns, their owners missing. In their place remained small drops and smears of blood, outlining the paths in which the cops had forced their wounded captives along. Passing the first body that was strewn across the tiled floor, his chest no longer moving up and down as his heart had ceased to beat, Ally felt her stomach churn. Bile rose up the back of her throat as she was forced to step over the obstacle, blood splashing up onto the sides of her sneakers. The smell of blood and death coated the hallway and the sounds of fighting could be heard more prominently from up ahead.