Chapter 256: A Sexy Night
The street had become a war zone in seconds. Lancelot and his Knights poured out of their vehicles with disciplined fury, weapons already raised and firing. The day's air was thick with the sharp bite of gunpowder. Bullets sparked off metal car bodies and bit into concrete with sharp cracks that echoed between the buildings.
Damien Winchester dropped the heavy rocket launcher with a loud clang against the pavement and snatched up his pistol instead, diving for cover behind one of the black cars. His remaining men returned fire, but the Knights had the advantage of surprise and superior positioning, boxing the Sailors in from multiple angles.
Carla saw the shift in momentum. Heart pounding, adrenaline surging through her veins, she shoved the SUV door open, the cool air rushing in. She stepped out with her pistol gripped firmly, the grip warm and familiar in her hand. The ground felt uneven under her boots as she moved to join the Knights, firing controlled shots toward the enemy positions.
The other two men in the SUV grabbed their guns and stepped out as well, firing alongside their reinforcements, determined to take out each and every member of the Sailors.
Each recoil sent a jolt up Carla's arms. The sound of the firefight was deafening—sharp cracks, the whine of ricochets, shouts of pain and orders cutting through the chaos.
One by one the Sailors fell. The Knights moved like a well-oiled machine, covering each other, advancing with lethal precision. Carla dropped one man who tried to flank them, the impact of her shot visible. The smell of blood mixed with the gun smoke, turning the street into something primal and ugly.
Damien realized the attack had failed. He shouted frantic orders, scrambled into one of the surviving cars with what was left of his crew, and the vehicle peeled away in a screech of tires and burning rubber. Lancelot grabbed the abandoned rocket launcher, shouldered it with practiced ease, and fired at the second escaping car.
The explosion lit the entire street in a brilliant orange fireball, sending debris and flames skyward. The blast wave rolled over them, hot and powerful, rattling windows and leaving a ringing in everyone’s ears. Damien’s own car, however, made it around the corner and disappeared.
The gunfire tapered off. The sudden quiet was almost as loud as the fight had been. Sirens began wailing in the distance, growing louder by the second. Carla lowered her weapon, chest heaving, the taste of cordite bitter on her tongue. She turned to Lancelot, who was breathing hard but steady.
“Thank you for showing up,” she said, voice rough. “You saved our asses.”
"No need for thanks. It's our job to keep our Queen safe. We're just doing it."
Carolina stepped out of the SUV, her composure mostly intact despite the chaos. The faint smell of her perfume still clung to her. “You have my gratitude as well, Lancelot. The Knights moved fast when it mattered.”
Before more could be said, the sirens grew much louder. Red and blue lights flashed at the end of the street. Everyone moved with urgent efficiency—Knights and Carolina’s group piling back into vehicles and speeding away from the scene, leaving the burning wreckage, spent casings, and bodies behind them in the daylight.
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A few hours later, the city had settled into full night. At one of Carolina’s warehouses on the list provided by Chief Silas, Andreas Cimaro and a handpicked group of his Cobras waited in the shadows. The air smelled of diesel fuel, saltwater from the nearby harbor, and the faint metallic tang of industry. Crickets chirped in the weeds along the fence line. The warehouse itself was a squat concrete building with large rolling doors, dimly lit by security lights that cast long, pale pools on the asphalt.
Jay returned from his scout, moving low and silent, boots barely making a sound on the gravel.
“Inside’s light,” he reported, voice low. “Fewer guards than we expected. We can take it clean.”
Andre’s mouth curved into a satisfied, predatory smile. “Good. Let’s move.”
Engines roared to life in a low, throaty growl. Cars burst through the warehouse gates in a coordinated, violent assault. Headlights cut through the darkness as the Cobras poured in. Gunfire cracked through the night—sharp, decisive, echoing off the high metal walls. The Red Cobras claimed the territory the same way they had the last one: fast, overwhelming, and without mercy.
By the time the echoes faded and the smoke cleared, the warehouse and everything inside it belonged to the Red Cobras.
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Back at the Rossi mansion, Carla stood in Carolina’s private bedroom, the air heavy with the scent of the Queen’s preferred incense and aged wood. Carolina sat at her elegant desk, listening with a calm but tired expression.
“After what happened with the Sailors on the road, I’m beefing up your security,” Carla said firmly. “No more unnecessary outings until Damien and his people are dealt with. We stay inside the walls where I can control the environment completely. New protocols, more men on rotation, stricter checks on every visitor and delivery.”
Carolina studied her for a long moment, then gave a slow nod. “Do what you think is best. I trust your judgment on this. Handle it.”
Carla left the room with purposeful strides, the weight of responsibility settling heavier on her shoulders. She headed straight for the Knights’ building.
The moment she stepped inside the common area, Gawain and the others spotted her. Low whistles and crude jokes cut through the air.
“Look who’s back for round two,” Gawain called out with a grin. “Here to get some more dick, Carla?”
She didn’t smile. Her expression remained hard. “Yes. Exactly that.”
Without another word, she walked past them and straight into Lancelot’s private room. He looked up from where he was sitting, cleaning a weapon, and when he saw her, his expression shifted into something darker and more heated.
“Here to thank me for showing up to your rescue?” he asked, voice low.
“Yes,” Carla said simply.
She began taking off her clothes and when he saw her doing this, a smile sprung out from the corner of his lips. He was beyond pleased with what was about to happen. It was going to be a sexy night.