Grizz’s POV
When Jax gave the nod, the world got real simple.
My finger was already on the throat mic button. I said the word. “Clear.”
From up in the rafters, the Barrett .50 Caliber went off. The sound wasn’t something you heard with your ears. It was something you felt in your bones. A BOOM that hit your chest like a kick from a mule. The concussion shook dust loose from the ceiling, raining down on us like dirty snow.
I didn’t need the monitor to see the hit. I saw it in Bullseye’s face up there. A flicker of cold satisfaction. One less problem. That’s how you think in a fight. Not in people. In problems.
Then the Reapers cut loose.
It was a beautiful thing, if you’re into that kind of beauty. Which I am. It wasn’t noise. It was a song. Each weapon had its part.
The brrrp-brrrp
