Wake of the Dead | One

Chapter thirty-five

Looking up, Killian could see Tom tilting his head, staring down with a mixture of determination, relief and shock. The man then narrowed his eyes and said sharply, "Everybody get your weapons and ready yourselves for a fight. We were driven away from our camp once and I'm not going to let it happen again."

As Tom began to give out orders and the rest of the group rushed around, Killian pressed himself against Jasper, hiding his face in his friend's chest. "I missed you," He said shakily, "I'm so sorry, I never wanted this, you ha-"

The other man interrupted him, gently placing a large hand over Killian's mouth. "I know, Boy Scout. I'm just glad you're safe. Take a few moments to calm down and then come join me outside." He smiled, and Killian's chest filled with butterflies. That goofy grin was enough to take his breath away all on its own. Those brilliant, bright blue eyes were perfect, even in the darkness. "Don't do anything stupid. I can't lose you again." Despite the smile, Killian could see just how serious his friend was.

Jasper left Killian on a couch in what he could assume was the living room, to catch his breath until he was ready to fight with the rest of them. Harley and Chris had headed up the stairs, holding guns in their hands. Killian could only assume they were planning to shoot from the top floor, which made at least a little bit of sense. Jasper had headed outside with Casimir and Darren. Tom was helping Samantha board up the back door, whilst Aubrey and Keagan prepared to guard the inside of the house.

It had taken the group a good bit to get organized. When Killian finally managed to catch his breath, he took hold of his crossbow and headed out to the porch, standing beside Jasper. He saw something different in the other man's eyes, something much more intense. Jasper's brows were narrowed, a frown on his lips. His broad shoulders were tense, muscles coiled up and determination clenching in his jaw. The man was ready to fight. What else had Killian expected from a soldier, though? It was almost surreal, seeing his friend like this.

Almost as soon as he'd stepped up beside Jasper, the loud popping sound of gunfire had started. Jasper moved to press his back up against one of the broader beams holding up the roof of the veranda, and Killian ducked. Bits of railing exploded into sharp splinters of wood when another bullet hit it. Jasper's brows were narrowed, focused. He knew what he was doing. Killian, on the other hand, didn't. He was terrified, eyes widened, body shaking. Panic was beginning to overtake him. This was all his fault. All of this was his fault. Now the group was in danger, all because of him.

Jasper's voice raised above the gunfire, "Killian, focus. Not on yourself. On the group. We have to keep our home and people safe, and to do that we need to keep it together." The other man's voice was strong, deep. Comforting amongst the chaos, in a strange way. Swallowing back his fear, Killian closed his eyes for a few moments and nodded.

A bullet grazed past his shoulder. At first he didn't feel anything, but a searing heat followed it, then pain shooting up his arm. Biting his tongue to hold back an alarmed yelp, he could see blood slowly dripping down his arm and onto the white wood of the porch. Jasper loaded his gun, and moved momentarily away from his cover. Killian watched with amazement as he took aim and fired. One of Renier's men stumbled back, hand on his gut as he fell to the ground. As quickly as he'd shot, Jasper moved back to his cover.

Another bullet flew past Killian's face, just barely missing his head. He scrambled out of the way, ducking his head as he hid behind the next beam beside Jasper. The two exchanged small glances, and a stressed chuckle left his lips. He couldn't hold it back. The chances of somebody in their group dying was almost insurmountable. But he couldn't think about that. He had to focus on what was in front of him.

Hearing a loud curse, Killian heard somebody on the other side of the railing struggling to reload their pistol. It was Diego. Loading an arrow as quickly as possible, he turned out of the safety of the beam and aimed, firing before Diego would notice. The arrow lodged in the center of his throat, and Killian winced as Diego slowly processed what was happening. The man's hands went to the arrow, trying to jerk it out. Blood gushed from his lips, throat, and soaked through his shirt quickly. A sickening gurgling sound came from Diego as he tried to breathe. He then fell to the ground, and Killian barely resisted the urge to vomit as he took cover again.