DEADLY DECEPTION

CHAPTER 37

Rick's POV

Sergei's body hit the ground with a sickening thud. For a second, there was nothing. Just the hollow silence of shock.

Then—

Bang!

A bullet sliced through the air, shattering a glass sculpture behind me. Upper level. Balcony. My eyes locked onto the silhouette behind the fractured glass, just as another round fired.

Shooter located.

Then the floodgates opened.

Gunfire erupted from every direction. Chaos. Bullets ricocheted off marble. Glass rained down from the chandeliers. Men shouted, some ducking for cover, others lifting their weapons.

And just like that—Sergei's men turned on each other.

"Fucking hell!" Bryce snarled, pulling Avery behind a heavy banquet table as a spray of bullets riddled the walls.

Fred and George were already firing back, quick and precise. I took down a bastard on my right, his body dropping before his finger could pull the trigger. Another rushed forward—Fred put a bullet straight between his eyes.

A scream cut through the gunfire. Someone fell. Someone else took their place. The air was thick with smoke and blood.

Above, the shooter was reloading. A flicker of movement at the grand staircase caught my eye. Thomas.

Dishevelled. Breathless. His sleeves were rolled up, his suit jacket missing, and his shirt had faint creases—proof he'd just been handling Marcus's body.

He moved fast, slipping through the fight with practiced ease, his gun already raised.

"The fuck did I walk into?" he muttered, dodging behind a marble pillar as bullets rained down.

"A fucking bloodbath," Fred shot back, reloading.

I didn't waste time talking. The chandelier above exploded, sending shards slicing through the air.

"Move. Now!" I barked, firing toward the balcony.

Bryce grabbed Avery, shielding her as they ran toward the exit. Thomas and the boys covered us, their shots precise, forcing the enemies back just long enough for us to break through.

We hit the back entrance. The cold air slapped against my skin.

Two cars.

Bryce, Fred, Thomas, and George made a run for one.

I grabbed Avery's wrist, shoving her toward ours. "In. Now."

She didn't argue.

The second I slid behind the wheel, the first round of shots hit the stone steps beside us. Not over yet.

Then, a bike appeared from the shadows.

The rider lifted his gun, aimed straight at us.

"Hold the fuck on," I growled.

And I slammed my foot on the gas.

The bike roared behind us, tires screeching against the asphalt. Another shot rang out, sparking against the side of the car.

I clenched the wheel, muscles taut. The bastard wasn't just chasing. He was herding us.

A quick glance at the rear view mirror—Bryce and the boys had already turned at the junction. The rider didn't even glance their way. It was us he wanted.

Another shot. A sharp crack. The side mirror on Avery's side exploded, shards flying.

She gasped, jerking away. "Shit!"