Stolen Heir

Chapter 9

Warning - Violence

Crimson POV

"Xander, stay with Blaire," Crimson ordered, but he didn't have to say anything. Xander had his revolvers out and was next to Blaire the second the noise erupted.

Crimson nodded at Hunter before the two wielded weapons of their own and made their way down the stairs.

The lights were still on but some were flickering, illuminating the hallway only to cast it back into darkness. By the time they were on the last step, the only thing they could hear was their steady footfalls.

It became quiet.

Too quiet.

Hunter and Crimson stalked forward, both with daggers and guns in hand, before four masked men bearing the Russian mafia tattoo on their arms jumped in front of them.

Two cornered Crimson against the wall and one knocked his revolver to the side and held him in a chokehold. Crimson swung his foot underneath the guys legs, causing him to loosen his grip. A sickening crack rang through Crimsons ears as he looked at the now dead man on the ground.

Don't celebrate yet, he remembered.

He ran for his revolver and dagger before pivoting to face the second man who had lunged at him. Crimson slashed out with his dagger, cutting an ugly gash across the man's arm. He hissed in pain but regained his footing and punched Crimson in the face.

The pain was intense, and Crimson tasted some blood. That ok, nothing severe.

Crimson kicked the guy to the ground before hitting him on the head with the revolver over and over until he passed out.

Crimson turned towards Hunter, whose hands were covered in blood. Two dead men laid in front of him.

Their victory was short lived, because dozens of other masked men with the same tattoo charged through the hallway, right at them.

Holy shit

No time to be scared, he was trained for this. On instinct, Crimson and Hunter immediately held a gun in each hand and shot at the stampede of men.

Blood was everywhere. The walls, the floor, the brother's hands.

Over half of the men fell to the ground, either dead or severely injured. The remaining had their daggers in hand and struck.

Crimson and Hunter fought simultaneously, but one had shot Hunter in the shoulder. Blood began pouring everywhere, and Crimson saw red.

He fought without thinking and the main floor became a whirlwind of blood and bones cracking. He spared a  quick glance at Hunter, but the last man took a split second advantage and shoved Crimson to the ground with a dagger to his throat.

Crimson felt the weight of the dagger, and considered his options. One wrong move and he was dead. He gripped his hand on the man's arm and planned to shove him upward.

However, Crimson didn't have time to make a mover before blood splattered his face.

Not his.

Crimson was too relieved to be confused. He simply laid his head back and closed his eyes for a moment before standing up and making his way to Hunter and the now many nurses huddled around him.

"What are you waiting for?? DO SOMETHING AND STOP STANDING THERE. WHAT, ARE YOU WAITING FOR HIM TO DIE?" He yelled, rage and a hint of worry etched in his voice.

The nurses lifted Hunter into a hospital bed and led him to another room.

"You're welcome for saving you, by the way," a sarcastic voice spoke from behind him.