We shrieked into Darlien's driveway. The house was dark and silent. They were all holed up in her basement, probably too high to be scared.
Alex was still out cold. He was losing blood, and fast. I needed to get him inside, or he'd...
No.
Killgrand's car would pull in any second. It was too risky to bring Alex in if he was there.
I needed to get rid of them.
"Matt," I finally looked at his crazed eyes. "Where's your rifle?"
He stuttered unintelligibly.
A growl crawled out of my throat. "Point, you fuck-ass."
His thumb jammed back in the direction of the now shattered back window. In the bed of the truck.
I looked back to face headlights. Killgrand was here.
There was no time. I shoved myself through the broken window, glass shards digging into my flesh. I dropped into the bed, hands groping around in the muddy tarps for Matt's bolt action rifle.
My fingers wrapped around the weapon. I threw open the breech, remembering how Jessie taught me how to use a gun like this. There was a round in the breech, but I had neither the light nor the time needed to check if it was a misfire.
I wrapped the sling around my wrist, closing the bolt. I tucked the rifle into my shoulder, inhaled, and fired into the black car's windshield. Blood splattered against the remaining glass. With my exhale, I sent a prayer to a god I didn't believe in, just hoping that man wasn't dead. And if he was, I prayed I'd be forgiven.
Whoever else was in the car started firing like all Hell. I ducked down and searched for another round, patting the tarp again.
My heart screamed, head turning everything into blurred noise. Fuck, I was shaking.
Thankfully, I heard the sound of a gun misfiring. That meant only one working gunman was left in the car.
I heard a shot, then a scream. It was Killgrand. "Fuck! Fuck!"
I hesitantly peeked my head over the truck's safety. Killgrand was half hanging out of his car's sunroof, holding his side. He fell back into the car. "Drive!" I heard him demand.
They pulled out, screaming down the street. "I'm going to fucking kill you, Alexa Roman!"
I took a deep breath, turning to see who shot.
In the dim, flickering light of her own home stood Darlien. A smoking pistol hung out of her hand. She tossed it into the bushes, brushing her black hair back.
"Hey, sweetcheeks," she called. "Let's get you inside."
YOU ARE READING
Wings
Teen Fiction"Pretty boy." "Princess." *** This world is full of wings. The more loved you are, the larger your wings grow to be. It's a status symbol. The larger the wings, the more you get out of life. Alexander's wings are huge and weighted. He gets what he w...
