Chapter-56

It took us some time as we blocked off the entrances and set up barriers, turning the warehouse into a place that would slow down any intruder. The brothers had armed themselves with what we could scrounge up—pipes, knives, and a couple of handguns. Though ready to defend ourselves, we were all very much aware we could possibly be outmatched.

As I pushed my hair out of my face after shoving the last barrier in place, I heard the radio crackle to life again, then a blast of squawks, and Surgeon's voice boomed out, "We need to get into position. Our brothers are outside."

We began taking our positions, and I headed up the set of stairs that overlooked the main floor. The plan was simple—make them think we were easy prey and pick off the enemies as they came through the doorway.

From outside, I heard Rook call through a loudspeaker, "Sons of Morning Star, this is Rook." His voice was strained, but strong as he continued, "You've got one last chance to leave us alone. If you don't, we'll bring Hell down on you."

There was a moment before I heard Dillon's cold laugh and his loud shout of, "You think we're scared of a few empty threats?"

I felt my stomach twist into knots as I realized Dillion wasn’t backing down.

"Marlowe, keep the lights off," Surgeon whispered. "We'll need the element of surprise if any of them come through."

I nodded. We weren't in total darkness as the occasional beam of moonlight snuck through the cracked windows, so I knew he could see the motion.

The minutes stretched into an eternity as we waited. Then came the screech of tires, the roar of engines, and the slamming of doors.

The Sons of Morning Star hadn't backed down.

~~

The warehouse was silent except for the sound of our breathing. I gripped the railing, my knuckles white, as the first shadowy figure moved into view.

"Now," Surgeon called, and the brothers within the warehouse came at the intruder as one.

The Sons of Morning Star had underestimated the Raven's, thinking they'd be easy pickings. But the Raven's had the advantage of knowing the layout, and used it to their full potential. Within a matter of minutes, the warehouse was ringing with the sounds of metal clanging against metal, grunts, and shouts of pain.

I took cover behind a crate, my knife at the ready if I had to use it. I prayed I didn't.

It was a bloody and brutal dance between enemies, but the Raven's were winning when Police, dressed in SWAT gear, stormed the place, their guns drawn. The fighting stopped abruptly as one of the officers bellowed, "Freeze!"

The plan had worked too well—the Sons of Morning Star had been lured into the open, but now, I was caught in the crossfire.

"This isn't what it looks like," Burdock shouted over the din, but the cops weren't listening. They were too focused on the weapons and the bodies littering the floor.

As the handcuffs clicked around wrists, Rook and the others being taken into custody as well.

~~

The detective sitting  across the table from me was unreadable, his eyes boring into mine. "Do you have anything to say about what happened tonight?"

I clenched my jaw, as I stared him in the eyes. "Yes, Sir. We were defending ourselves. They came to us."

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze unwavering. "And the weapons? The bodies?"

"They started it," I replied, feeling the anger rise in me. "They had it coming."

The detective sighed, rubbing his forehead. "This isn't going to hold up in court."

"They set us up," I insisted, my voice rising. "They're the ones who should be in here, not us!"

The door swung open, and Rook was shoved into the room, his face a mess of bruises and blood.

"You okay?" he murmured.

"Yeah," I muttered, fear gnawing at me.

The detective leaned in. "Your boyfriend's got quite the mouth on him," he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Let's get one thing clear, Detective. I’m not her boyfriend. I’m her brother," Rook snapped.

I looked at Rook, flabbergasted, but I knew now was not the time for questions.

"Look," I said, leaning forward. "We need to work together to take them down."

The detective's eyes narrowed. "How do I know you're not just spinning me a story?"

"Because if we don't," I said, my voice low and serious, "more people will die."

The room was silent for a long moment before the detective stood, the chair scraping against the floor. "Alright," he said. "But if you're lying to me..."

"We're not," Rook said, his voice firm. "We're telling you the truth."

The detective nodded, his expression unreadable. "We'll see," he said, before leaving us alone once more.

Rook leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way. We’ll talk later, okay? But for now, we have to get out of here," he said. "Find a way to warn the others."

"But how?" I asked, desperation lacing my words.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping even further. "I have a plan," he murmured. "But you have to trust me."

And with that, he began to tell me his plan, a daring escape that would either set us free or seal our fate.

The hours ticked by, and the tension grew thicker with every passing minute. We waited for the right moment, listening for the shift change, the perfect opportunity.

And then it came—a burst of noise from the hallway, the clanging of keys, and the murmur of voices.

Rook gave me a look, his eyes saying everything his mouth couldn’t. Now was our chance.