The Six: Genesis | A Reverse Harem Novel

Sixty-One

I'll never forget Michael's scream.

It'll haunt me until the day I die. The helpless shriek tearing out of his mouth as the SUV flipped sent a dull shiver of rage through me. Chris and Charlie are on their feet on the third rotation, catching our runaway vehicle in midair.

Gently, they lay it down to side the of my driveway before the ground turns to a sheer drop off a cliff. I gasp, grabbing along the crumpled insides to find Michael. He's trapped beneath the weight of a crumpled seat, his legs and right arm bent in awkward ways.

Sick, I squeeze my eyes shut and drag myself closer. Chaos unfurls around us. The guys are keeping back a team of men carrying automatic weapons.

My ears ring. Every bullet is like a stab in my ear drums. The clack, clack, clack of metal hitting metal repeats like a bell's ding, twisting with a loud thud.

I crouch over Michael, protecting him from the ricochet and glance outside. We're nearly surrounded. Black boots eat up the horizon as the crowd thickens.

More and more come up from the side of the cliff, fall from helicopters and drop over the edge of my walls. They're going to overrun us. If they do, we're as good as dead. Michael is as good as dead.

Pushing backward, I slide across the roof of the crumpled SUV to the other side. More men appear out of the dark, guns at their sides. They barely glance at Chris and Charlie.

Instead, they make a beeline for me.

Too bad for them. I will not be taken and I will not let Michael die.

When the first kneels down and shouts my name through his black ski mask, I offer a helpless whimper. He draws closer, his voice turning cruel as he spits threats out. I barely hear him.

I don't care. Nothing he says will come to pass. He'll be dead long before he even tries to harm me.

My lack of response pulls him closer and he tucks his gun to grip my right arm. I punch him as his hand makes contact. He shouts, head thrashing backward like a crash dummy, and I yank him forward.

His entire form breaks in half with a sickening crunch. He's wide enough to cover the back side of the vehicle and I rush to Michael, coming out behind him as Chris frees him.

A slow groan escapes his mouth and he shifts. Charlie tucks me against his side the second I stand, hurrying us toward my house. It's a wicked menace on a hill.

Built to withstand a nuclear bomb, the Glade is a mixture of modern engineering and old world charm. It cantilevers off the side of the cliff, a completely submersible lifeboat in the event of an emergency. Mirrored glass greets us as we come closer, but it won't break--not even for these bastards scurrying in our wake like mice.

At the door, Chris lays Michael on the black marble floors and turns to me. He's covered in blood, guts and blackened pockmarks from gunshots. A malicious grin is spread across his crimson covered features.

Charlie doesn't look much different.

His blond hair, typically slicked back across his skull, was askew and sticky with blood. Charlie's shirt, like Chris', was torn at the edge and riddled with black marks. His dark grin is sexy and inviting.

"I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk when all this is done, princess," Charlie vows, right hand closing around my chin. "Be ready to spread those gorgeous legs for me."

"And what about Chris?" I tease.

"I'm sure I'll fit somewhere," Chris throws over his shoulder as he saunters away. The jeans he wears are a dream on his behind. For a moment, I forget we're under siege.