Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 145088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Hammer ignored the annoying voice in his head telling him that Dex would be calling out to him if he were whole, because nothing good could come out of worrying at this point. He squeezed the handle of his weapon with newfound fury. If Dex had been injured by the explosion and lay somewhere unconscious instead of dead, the clock was ticking.
He squared his shoulders and approached the front door, swinging the sledgehammer at the lock. It was wrecked within two blows that vibrated all the way up his arms. The door swung open in silent invitation, but Hammer hid behind the thick wooden wall and glanced at the sloping roof that might fall on his head any minute.
Bullets tore through the air, chopping off pieces of the doorframe. None of this was safe. He should make his assault from yet another point, now that their attention was on the front door, but pure adrenaline had replaced his blood, and he dashed in like a human projectile as soon as the shooting stopped.
Movement drew his attention toward the fireplace, and he charged at the tall, slender silhouette, swinging his hammer so rapidly it propelled him forward and knocked into Jeff’s chest. Losing balance, the bastard roared and fell into the fire.
Instinct sent Hammer’s hand for a bottle standing on the wooden table next to him, and he threw it at Jeff just as he rolled onto the floor with a dull shriek. But when glass broke, spraying liquid all over his burning form, the booze that must have been inside the container fed the flames, transforming the goon into a living torch.
Screaming his lungs out, Jeff paid no attention to Hammer and ran out through the front door, no doubt dropping into the snow in hopes of survival. The scent of burning meat filled Hammer’s nostrils, distracting him for too long, and he only moved when someone cocked a gun a few feet away.
He dropped to the floor and tipped the table forward, causing a racket of falling cans and breaking glass. But his hand lingered on the edge of the wood that second too long, and pain tore through it like lightning before thunder. He'd been shot.
Blood drizzled into his palm, but the table would only save him for so long, and he couldn’t waste time checking the damage to his limb.
He shot up the moment the click of someone reloading reached his ears. The guy with the pot belly looked up, his eyes wide and as shiny as his sweaty face. He’d pay a hefty price for waking the bear from its slumber. Hammer swung the sledgehammer with full strength, and it collided with the bald head, cracking it like an egg. The force behind the blow sent the goon at the wall, but Hammer hauled his weapon at the bloodied head once more for good measure. The fucker’s head, and that of the hammer, plunged through the thin inner wall so rapidly a deer skull trophy with wide antlers fell to the floor at the impact.
But when Hammer tugged on the handle of his weapon to free it from the mess of bone, brains, and plaster, he found it stuck and screamed at the top of his lungs.
“Fuck!”
He couldn’t believe this shit.
Adrenaline was keeping him from feeling the pain, but one glance at the mangled bit of flesh and bone that was left of his ring finger got him even angrier.
He didn’t have time for this.
Hammer looked over his shoulder at the sound of a grunt.
The Lumberjack fortunately hadn’t found the grenades. He sped out of the adjacent room and dashed for a shotgun hanging on the wall.
Knowing he had no time to wrench his favorite weapon out, Hammer let it go and reached for his knife… only to find it missing. No time could be spared to search for it or find another one by the fallen table, but then his gaze settled on the antlers knocked off the wall a few seconds ago. He grabbed them and charged across the dusky room with a scream of primal fury while blood-red stained the edges of his vision.
In that moment, he was an animal fighting for his life, and he would show no mercy.
Hammer reached Lumberjack the moment the goon turned with the gun in hand, and the sharp ends of the antlers, which must have been polished for a meaner appearance, sank into the fucker’s soft flesh.
Blood rolled into the man’s sparse beard, but he dropped the shotgun to grab the trophy in a vain attempt at protecting himself from further damage. Hammer gave him a shove, and the bastard collapsed. It was over the moment the side of his head hit the sharp edge of a sideboard.
High on the killing spree, Hammer looked around, panting and ready to take on anyone still hiding, but there was no one to be seen. Including Dex.