The Six: Genesis | A Reverse Harem Novel

Fifty-Nine

I'd forgotten the level of savagery Chris and Charlie are capable of.

There was an explosion of glass and the heavy thud of boots hitting the ground before a mist covered my eyes. Smoky and grey, the smoke grenades they set off made my throat itch. Michael hit the floor first, eyes shut and hands over his ears. I don't remember what I said, but I do know I've never been so angry in my life.

They could have hurt him—killed him.

Chris' voice, calling my name was the last thing I cared about as I cut across the room so fast it sent a ripple through the intruders. A dozen of them surrounded us, guns raised. Their shouts—a mixture of Arabic, Spanish, and English—meant nothing to me.

Let them shoot.

They'll have to explain to their bosses why I'm dead. I won't be taken down this easily, and neither will Chris nor Charlie. I'm ruthless in my vengeance, taking down three on my way to Michael. Each of the men falls without a sound, their guns clattering around us like change bouncing on a table.

Chris calls my name a second time, hauling ass to clear a path behind me. Flashes of black echo through the smoke as they die. Bits of their ski masks, bulletproof vests, and boots feather in the air like confetti, flinging to the far edges of the room.

More explosions ring out. The windows cave in, shattering in a cacophony of raging fire. As I kneel at Michael's side, Chris comes to me. Blood trickles down his shirt and drips along his hands, but it isn't his.

"We need to get him out of here." I yelp, dodging as an intruder runs towards us.

Chris catches him as he jumps, flinging him away so hard he breaks through the wall and into the next room. A muffled plea leaves his lips, but he doesn't get back up and neither do the two men hiding on the other side. They lay in a heap of broken limbs and debris.

"We need to get you out of here," Chris yells.

The sounds are deafening. Goosebumps raise on my skin, and I risk a look in Charlie's direction. Eight men are descending on him like wolves on prey, but they are outmatched.

Charlie Hendrix bows to no one.

I've seen him in his element and watched him take down my organisms without breaking a sweat, but this is different. He's no longer the same man. In previous fights, he's fought to save me or Chris.

With the augmentation, there are no limits.

He's completely focused. A buzz of excitement flutters in our link. I'm high off of it, swaying toward him unintentionally.

Should watching a man kill turn me on? I don't think it should, but I don't care to examine why I want him so badly. He knows I feel this way, and the cocky smirk he always wears worms its way across his face. Grabbing two of the men, he knocks their heads together and tosses them forward, using them as bowling balls for a group of four others.

A second set of two step up, guns trembling in their palms. Charlie takes down the first one, quickly ripping the gun from his fingers and using it to smack the other guy's head off. It snaps clean off and sails across the room, falling into the hands of another masked man.

His surprised scream cuts through the noise like a knife. For the next few seconds, three masked men play hot potato with the head—screaming higher than I thought was physically possible. Charlie remains where he stands, fists raised, wearing a haunting, taunting grin.

"And here I was thinking I'd never hear a scream sweeter than yours, princess," he calls over the chaos.

He's hopping now, readying himself for the next wave of attackers, but Chris is tired of the fighting. Glancing at me, he lifts Michael out of my grip and throws his arm over his shoulder. Michael straightens with a groan, eyes rolling as more smoke grenades fly through the windows.