Tyrant (Sequel to King)

Chapter 9

•Justin-King•

When the debris settled in the room, I crawled on my stomach, stealing a glance out from behind the coffee table where I'd ducked for cover. The couch where Bear had been sitting could no longer be seen in the rubble.

And neither could Bear.

There was a commotion of voices. Commands were barked. It sounded as if the orders were being spoken into a canyon, and all I could make out where the echoes of their voices.

Pain. Dull and pulsing, radiated from my head. Blood dripped into my eyes. My vision blurred, I squinted. Two men carrying AK's clamored over the remains of the wall and entered the apartment. They were fixated on something hanging from the pile of debris on the couch and that's when I finally caught a glimpse of Bear.

Or at least, part of Bear.

His leg hung at an awkward angle, dangling over a large piece of concrete. His jeans ripped. His calf dripping blood.

Something moved outside and my attention snapped back to the hole in the wall. There was large truck just beyond the wreckage, it was still running, the headlights on and shining directly into the apartment. Attached to the grill was some sort of ramming device.

Leaning up against the truck, was Eli.

He spotted me and smile, tipping his hat to me like he was greeting an old friend.

A crunching noise sounded from behind me. I turned my head to find one of Eli's men standing over me, pointing his AK in my face. "You gonna die today," the man said. Scars covered one side of his jaw, a shitty thin lined prison tat covered his neck. A toothpick hung from his lip, moving up and down when he spoke.

"After you, motherfucker," I growled, rolling over to my side, taking out his leg. I threw him off balance and he fell sideways. I grabbed the gun I kept hidden behind my belt buckle, and before he could lift his gun again, I'd already aimed and fired, sending him to the place in hell reserved for pieces of shit like him.

And me.

I ran over to where Bear was pinned beneath the rubble. Shots rang out, the table exploded, shards of the glass top rose off the table like someone had just canon-balled into a pool of water, then crashed back down, sending bits and pieces of shrapnel soaring through the air, stabbing into the skin on my neck and chest like a million tiny knives, not much bigger than a grain of sand.

A bullet whizzed by my head and lodged into the wall behind me, narrowly missing my forehead by less than an inch.

I stood straight and aimed my gun toward the snarling man who wore a look of disappointment on his face, pissed that he'd missed his intended target.

Me.

I took more time to aim than was safe, standing out in the open with no cover, but my little back up gun only had one bullet left and I needed to make it count. I squeezed the trigger and the man's eyes went wide as the bullet pierced his throat. He choked and gurgled on his own blood as he crumpled to the floor.

I tossed the gun and started clearing off the rubble off of the couch. After what seemed like forever, but was probably only a few second, I cleared a block that revealed Bear's face and neck. I leaned down and put my ear to his chest.

Still breathing.

I had to move quickly. Eli was standing just outside and God only knew what that crazy motherfucker might be armed with.

I reached behind Bear and tried to wrestle a gun from one of his holsters under his cut. I had no doubt it was fully loaded. Bear was always prepared. I hadn't successfully freed the gun when seven more men came bursting through the hole in the wall. All armed. All guns aimed at me.