Brothers In Arms: Earned In Blood Novels & Stories

Gunfire erupted. I moved on instinct kicked the inner door open, pistol up. Two guys spun toward me. I dropped the first with a double tap to the chest. The second got a round in the shoulder before he could fire. Alessio was right behind me gun in hand (the one I’d given him weeks ago, the one he’d practiced with). He didn’t hesitate. When a third guy came from the side, Alessio fired clean shot to the leg, dropping him without killing. I glanced at him impressed, pissed, proud all at once.

“Both of you please just stop! My legs felt shaky as I slowly stepped closer to them. Roman looked completely lost in his anger. His eyes were wild, his chest rising and falling heavily with every breath. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he continued hitting Liam. Under him, Liam looked terrible. His nose was completely broken now, blood pouring down his face. One of his eyes was already swelling shut. He groaned weakly beneath Roman, barely able to defend himself anymore. My chest tightened painfully as I watched.I stepped closer and reached out.My fingers touched Roman’s arm.His skin was hot and damp with sweat.

I patted his shoulder “Thanks Fai! I won’t be here without you! Brian and Anna too, thanks!” “What had I said earlier, I’ll say it again,” Anna got up and hugged both of us, she then said “I’m proud of you! Both of you had passed a hard time and I never felt better when I saw both of you stand together, until the end. Blood is thicker than water!” She released us and smiled “Thanks to you, Ann!” Damian held her hand and I smiled. I put my hand on her hand too and added, “Yeah, I couldn’t agree more! Thanks Ann, thanks for always being with us.”

The kind of quiet that only came before blood spilled. This deal was supposed to be simple. Arms trade. AKs and modified M16s from Eastern Europe. We were the middlemen — clean, quiet, brutal when needed. The buyers? Some rookie gang trying to build clout. They wanted firepower, we wanted cash. But deals like this? They never stayed simple. “I don’t like that we don’t know all their names,” I muttered. Collins pulled his gun from his jacket, checked it, cocked it. “I don’t like that they requested a warehouse we’ve never used.”

My life, cataloged like a dossier. My throat went dry. I shuffled through the pile with trembling fingers. More photos. My mother at the market, my father shaking hands with a man I didn’t recognize. My younger brother on his motorcycle before he was sent to America. Each moment captured from a distance, as if someone had been watching us. And then—the house. My family’s estate. Pictures of my father shaking hands with men I didn’t recognize. Men with hard eyes and cruel smiles. Some pages were crossed out, black bars slashing across lines of text, but one word appeared again and again.

Apparently, in Demetrio's mind, I was so terrible that I could do something like that. "It wasn't me." I forced those three words out. Demetrio sneered, as if he didn't believe me at all. "Who else could it be if not you?" His gaze landed on my hand, which had a missing thumb. It was like he had finally found an outlet for his anger. His face darkened, and he grabbed my wrist with such force it bordered on cruelty. He pressed down hard on the spot where my thumb used to be. That was the old wound from when I took the bullet for him.

The sound of zombies gnawing on flesh echoed from outside the base, together with the constant thud of their bodies slamming against the gates. My eyes snapped open. I had somehow returned to the day the zombies had besieged the city. I rushed straight to the command center and sounded the alarm. June Morgan, my sister-in-law, grabbed my arm in confusion. “Eira, why did you suddenly sound the alarm? Zombies are everywhere outside the base. Some noise is normal.” I had no time to explain. I grabbed her and Poppy’s hands and rushed toward the air-raid shelter.

Her shots sparked against the walls near Dario’s head, driving him stumbling toward the exit. Around me, the battle raged. Enzo’s cries broke through the smoke as his wife dragged him deeper into cover, blood pouring from her wounded arm. Sasha crawled across the ground, shielding her head as bullets tore through the table above her. More of our allies fell…men whose names I had only just learned, their blood mingling into rivers on the floor. And I was still on the ground, my hands painted in my father’s blood. His body was limp, his face pale.

I couldn’t let that happen. Slowly I cleared the tears off of my eyes. I was my mother’s daughter. I was my father’s soldier. These boys are a piece of cake compared to the wars I’ve won for my ungrateful father. The ardents were my teammates and if there was anything Bloodrage ever taught me. It was to never leave your own behind. My breath suddenly hitched as I watched one of the brothers, the one with a chopped hand zoom from the shadows, his good arm raised in silent rage. A thick blade glinted under the light.

Blood Brothers James "Lawrence!" I knelt beside my fallen brother, face creased in concern. Blood soaked his shoulder from a bullet gone astray in the chaotic firefight. Lawrence grimaced, grinding out through clenched teeth, "Kemp's men...fled moments ago. Couldn't prevent it." His pride stung deeper than torn flesh. I clasped his good shoulder firmly. "You fought courageously. What matters is ending Kemp for good." At my reassuring tone, some tension left his pained features. I helped him stand slowly, injuries forcing uncharacteristic dependence on me - his once-rival.