Buried Deep ✔️

Chapter Eleven [World War III]

"But I'm not," I retorted.

He shook his head. "Spencer, you can deny it all you want, but you love that girl." He chuckled.

My muscles tensed. My pulse quickened. Did I love her?

"But after toni-" I started.

Damen smiled at me and snapped in my face. "All you have to do is come back tonight. It's simple. Let's go complete this damn mission and come back. Then, you can go see her and tell her the truth. You did it to protect her. Tell her you do love her. Let her know she's the light of your life and you cannot live without her. She makes you a better man," he said, pushing my chest.

I stepped back a few steps and laughed. "Let's just focus on coming back in one piece tonight." I held my hand out to him.

He took my hand and our fingers intertwined into our gang's symbol. We smiled at each other.

Holiday approached us. "We done with all this damn mushy stuff for the night? You pussies," he said with a teasing smile.

Damen and I shoved his shoulders in union. These guys would forever be my brothers. They would always have my back, and I trusted them with my life.

I stepped past them down the alley. "Come on, we have business to handle."

They stayed close to my sides as we moved toward Eastside territory. My eyes scanned the area searching for the black bag that contained Chris's body. We walked for a while only stopping to check the dumpsters along the alley.

I was beginning to get worried that we might not find it. Then, I smelt it. The rotting flesh was repulsive. It overpowered all of my senses. I gagged, throwing my arms across my mouth and nose.

Damen held his hand over his mouth. "God damn," he muttered.

The fumes drifted from a garbage bag tossed causally beside the dumpster. I had to confirm it was Chris. I knelt beside it as Damen held his blade out over my shoulder. I reached to take it from him. I made a slit in the bag and pulled it apart.

Chris was cold. Despite his dark complection, his skin was tinged with gray. The life that had dwelt within him had gone. He was safe from the evils of this world. No more harm could come to him. His heart that used to beat with life was still. His mind that felt so many emotions was blank. My mind raced to Maria, and then to the woman inside the deli. They both had suffered the same fate. The grief surged with every expelled breath. It reached the highest peaks, never soothed by my long intakes of the frozen air.

Damen and Holiday gagged behind me, but the smell was nothing anymore. My senses were clouded by my mind.

Holiday pulled his hoodie collar over his nose. "Fuck, man. That shit is disgusting," he grumbled.

A gunshot pierced the air, and a bullet casing rolled across the pavement. I scrambled to crouch behind a dumpster beside Chris's rotting body. I wasted no time loading my gun and preparing for the battle ahead. Damen and Holiday moved to the opposite side of the alley as more shots echoed in the air. The sound of metal against metal carried in the air as the bullets made contact with the dumpster. The Eastside had found us.

Without hesitation, I aimed my gun across the alley. My finger curled around the trigger, but the gun clicked. The pistol locked up. My jaw tightened. I crouched behind the dumpster as I slammed my gun into my palm. Voices yelled in the distance.

"Spencer, they aren't moving alone," Holiday whispered across the alley.

I started to move toward him, but a rough metal pressed against the back of my head. It was unmistakable. There was a gun to my head.