I stay in the car as Noah runs toward the building, the smoke getting thicker, the flames climbing higher.
When he opens the door and disappears inside, my heart seizes in my chest.
I'm torn between going after him and staying here.
Hector isn't enough backup, though. Not where there are people shooting at them outside and a fire going inside.
Ten minutes. That's all I'm going to give him.
And then I have to go in there after him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
NOAH
Plaster fallsto the ground as a bullet lodges into the wall beside my head when I reach for the door handle, ready to rush in and see what the fuck they set on fire in my warehouse.
There's a loud crash as glass windows break, swift pops of bullets following.
When a second bullet nearly clips me in the head, I dive for the nearest cover I can find.
The stack of crates isn't much, but it's enough to guard me from the next round of bullets that come flying my way.
"Fucking hell." I peek around the crates, firing off a couple of shots at one of the men when the shooting stops.
It's too quiet. I don't trust it.
The smoke grows thicker and darker, pouring out of the broken window now. Flames emit an orange glow from inside the building, people pouring out the door.
When my men aren't met with gunshots, they look around.
And then the wall of bullets comes.
Men drop to the ground, their blood pooling around their bodies.
Some of them don't die with the first shot, but when the second wall of bullets comes, they're dead.
My stomach turns and clenches tight.
I'm not looking forward to the moment when I have to speak with their families. I'll have to do everything I can to have their funerals covered, their widows and children set up with funds to last them for the rest of their lives.
That's a problem for later, though. Right now, I have to get into the building before all the ammunition inside is gone.
I whip out from behind the crates, grabbing the handle and yanking open the door, the metal uncomfortably warm against my hand. It's painful, but I don't think it's going to do worse than a minor burn.
Thankfully, the fire is at the other end of the warehouse.
I rush to the office, heading straight for the main control for the sprinkler system.
When the system was installed, we put manual controls around the building, no sensors.
One of the men should've pulled one of the alarms before now. Why they didn't is beyond me.
It's something that'll have to be addressed with the survivors.
Why the fuck they're letting my merchandise burn, I don't know, but if I had to guess, this is the kind of stunt that has Lyndewritten all over it. Those bastards likely flipped the men who worked here and used them against me.
I let out a deep breath and lean against the wall, more gunshots cracking outside. "For fuck's sake!"