Gangs Aren't My Style (A Black Death Novel)

Chapter 70 - Race With Death

Gangs Aren't My Style

Book I of the Black Death Trilogy

PART FOUR :: Leave The Front Line Behind

Chapter 70 - Race With Death

Questions whirled through James' mind as he stared at his sister, watching how she seemed to shake in fear as the man's voice washed over her. Why was this man targeting his gang? How did she know this man? Had this man left his little sister on the streets to die?

As the man took another step towards Ally, her hands immediately flew towards the sleeves of her hoodie and suddenly there were two sharp knives held firmly in her hands, glistening in the dim streetlights.

The man released a deep, chilling chuckle into the frosty night air and a mocking smile settled onto his lips. "What? Are you not happy to see me?" he asked sarcastically, coming to a stop a few feet away from her.

"Don't you dare come near me," she hissed, slightly raising her knives as her muscles tensed in preparation.

"It seems I need to remind you of your place," he admonished, not heeding her warning as he took yet another step in her direction. In response, Ally immediately sent one of her knives flying towards him with a single flick of her wrist.

The man simply moved his gun to rest in front of his stomach so that it deflected the blow. He expertly slanted the firearm to the side so that the knife ricocheted off the metal and flew into a nearby tree. James stared in astonishment as the knife slashed through a tree branch, coming to a rest only when the hilt connected with the thick bark of its trunk, splinters of wood raining down in a shower of debris.

Movement in James' peripheral vision drew his attention back to his sister just in time to see her release her second knife, injecting more force and speed into her throw this time. The next few seconds were a blur as the man lifted his hand at the last moment, expertly spreading his middle and ring finger so that his fingers made a 'V'. The blade flew directly between his two fingers, the hilt of the knife catching on the remaining fingers, and his hand flew back slightly as he absorbed the impact. A malicious smirk grew on his face as he observed everyone's state of shock.

"What?" he asked mockingly, twirling the knife in his hand carelessly as his eyes turned to Ally once again, "Did you think that while you were with us I showed you everything I was capable of?" With an almost unnoticeable jerk of his wrist, he suddenly threw Ally's knife back to her with so much force that it slammed into her before she could even flinch.

Disbelief and pain flashed through her eyes as she looked down at the hilt of her own knife protruding from her shoulder, blood already beginning to gather around the gash and soak through her red shirt. Hissing through her teeth in pain, she gingerly clasped the handle in her good hand and pulled it from her shoulder. The knife dropped to the ground and her hands shook, the thud of its impact meeting her ears as she tentatively ran her trembling fingers across the wound.

Pulling her fingers away, her face paled. Crimson blood smeared across her skin, the drop slowly running down the side of her hand and dripping to the ground. For the first time in James' life, he saw his sister trembling with fear for her life. The fire in her eyes slowly died out to be replaced by an eerie, haunted look. As the man approached her yet again, now only three feet away from her at most, she reached for her gun, but her grip was shaky. Instead of the confidence that usually surrounded her when she faced an opponent, her stance was wrong and the hand holding the gun seemed to be uncertain, clenching and unclenching in trepidation but not pulling the trigger. "Don't come any closer," she commanded but her voice quivered even as she tried to make her words come out strong.