Chapter Twenty-five

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A day ago…

Slick's Motel,

Five miles from the Secret Best Friend Lodge,

British Columbia,

Canada,

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"You've cut me off, dad. What the fuck?!" Slick snarled, pacing around his cheap as shit motel room. He pointed furiously at Damen, the big ugly bastard, and watched his goon creep out of their shared room. Damen wasn't welcome to witness Slick calling his father out on his bullshitty decisions. "I told you I was handling the situation!"

"There is a warrant for your arrest, Stefano," Dad said calmly, coldly, "I told you to kill those witnesses. Are the witnesses dead?"

"No but-"

"Then you are no son of mine," Dad concluded, clapping his hand in the background. "You have to understand, Junior. It's just business. You're attracting too much attention and I can't have the authorities snooping. Think of your mother and sisters, Stefano."

"Dad, I have Christian and Teddy Grey cornered, as well as Jason Taylor and those two fuckers who worked with Grey to get the Sawyer girls out. I will obliterate them before the day begins," Slick insisted, running his hand through his crop of hair and tugging it.

He couldn't believe his father was being so close minded. Didn't he see that Slick had the potential to take over the family business? He was an aspiring leader and he wanted to restore the Esposito name as one to be feared

. As his father aged, he'd become domestic and legal, siting his old age and family life as the reason he'd pulled back from heavy arms trafficking and drug distribution. It was pathetic to Slick, who'd been trying to get back to the family's drug dealing roots. All his father was interested in doing was seedy pornography distribution, strip clubs and high price escort prostitution.

Slick wanted to show the world he was more of a man than his father and become.

He wanted to bring back gun trades.

He was already working towards being Seattle's largest drug supplier.

He wanted to be feared.

"You want to murder Christian Grey and his ontourage as well as Teddy and Taylor? I did not think I raised an idiot," Father snapped.

"Look, Dad, I-"

"No, you look here. You have fucked up, Slick. You've fucked up and I am not willing to help you anymore. I mean it," Father shouted furiously, Slick able to feel the steam coming out the receiver phone. Dad had a temper, one which Slick often felt the brunt of. He was scary when he was angry, "After the mess you made letting Grey walk into your club and steal your 'prisoners', you're lucky I don't give the police a tip off right now. Your mother was right; I should have pushed you off to military school. Maybe they'd have made a man of you."

Ouch.

"I am hours away from having Teddy and Taylor killed," Slick growled, "This will all be over soon."

"Over? Are you insane? Are you some sort of fucking retard?" Father shouted in an exasperated tone, "I can't believe you."

"You do not understand-"

"No, Stefano, you don't understand. You're cornered. You're done. The law has a warrant for your arrest, your house and assets are frozen. You're a wanted criminal. Even if you kill Grey and Taylor you'll be imprisoned for having cocaine in your apartment," Dad explained, "And you're not getting a dime from me and your mother. We've bailed you out too many times in the past; there is no way in hell that we'll be getting involved. You are on your own."

"But if I kill Grey and Taylor I'll face a lighter sentence," Slick argued, "Which is what I'm going to do, Dad. I will get them before they can testify that it's me on the video."

"You're not listening to me, Son," Dad laughed cruelly, "It's too late. It's done. You're fucked. Do whatever the fuck you like but I am not helping you. You got yourself into this mess so you can get yourself out. You're done."

"Are you disowning me?" Slick hissed, his mind reeling.

"It's nothing personal, Stefano. It's just business. I need to protect your mom and sisters. I'm sure you'll understand," Dad said so casually that it hurt Slick like a dagger to the back. Fury burned through his entire being and he had to fight to keep on his feet.

"You're dead to me," Slick hissed, "I don't need you. If the cops arrest me I'll tell them everything. I'll tell them what sort of a monster you were. I'll grass, you hear? I'll snitch on you if you do not help me right this very second."

"You snitch and you'll never survive in prison. I'll have you butchered in a day," Dad spat, "Do not threaten me you worthless worm. You betray me and you will be sorry. Your men wont work for free. I'll call Damen-"

"Damen is loyal to me. His men are loyal to me. They will get paid," Slick spat, "Goodbye, Cunt."

He hung up on his father then and there, throwing his phone on the bed in frustration. Tears of hatred poured from Slick's eyes as he stared at himself hard in the mirror.

Father would rue the day he disowned Slick. He'd make a name for himself, a ferocious reputation which would lead to an empire which would tower over the soft touch his father had become in his old age.

He'd have Damen gut his father alive.

"Sir? It's Hugh."

Someone knocked at the door. Slick wiped his eyes, snorted and focused on the job; butchering every motherfucker who stood in his way to greatness.

"Yes?" Slick shouted, turning his back as the door slowly opened.

"The bomb was rigged successfully to the bottom of the car," Hugh informed him.

"Smoothly?" Slick hissed.

"Yes, Sir. Rio crawled over and, given the thick foliage and the darkness, was unnoticed," Hugh explained confidently. His words were a relief; there was no way that Grey's entourage would fit in a single car. One explosion was all Slick would need anyway to startle them, and Slick would have has men ready to cut them down with a torrent of bullets.

It would be bloody, it would be dramatic but it would be sweet as fuck to watch them drown in their own blood.

"Piss off, Hugh. Tell Damen to get his arse in here," Slick growled and kicked off his slippers.

Their motel wasn't far from where Damen's tracker friend had followed Christian, Reynolds and Sawyer to the lodge. Damen had been watching them from up high and had reported that a further three bodies had joined Grey and Taylor, as well as Sawyer, Grey Senior and Reynolds. He'd come back to the motel for shut eye as Slick's orders demanded and left Rio to watch the lodge tonight.

It wasn't the worst place Slick had ever been but it was a far cry from the wealth and luxury he was used to. Still, it was a large room with it's own bathroom. Damen was crashing with Slick for security reasons with the warrant for Slick's arrest very much apparent. He doubted that the Seattle Police Department knew he was in Canada but he wasn't willing to chance it and neither was Damen.

"Sir," Hugh said and disappeared from Slick's sight, closing the door softly behind himself.

Within a couple of seconds, Damen's heavy boots stomped on their bedroom floor, the ugly bastard sighing in annoyance that he'd been shunted from his room so that Slick could speak to his father. But Slick was sure he'd get over it soon enough when Slick was running the wealthiest and most feared criminal gang in North America with Damen rolling in millions by Slick's side.

"How many men do we have, Damen?" Slick asked, turning to watch the big fucker sitting on his bed and kicking his shoes off. He was an impressive man to have on Slick's side; he'd done some fucking messed up shit for Slick in the past and his inventive ways to murder and assassinate often left Slick giddy with excitement. He'd had the disgraced Marine by his side since he was in school and there was never a day that Damen hadn't been in touch in some form or another.

"You. Me. Diego, Rio and Alec. Hugh, Floyd and Argie. Sam, Loco and Pete," Damen listed, "So eleven."

"Good. How many do they have?" Slick asked, using his fingers.

"Christian Grey, Theodore Grey, Jason Taylor, James Reynolds, Luke Sawyer, Jackson Smeaton, Callum Olsten and William Welch," Damen mumbled, "So Eight."

"Perfect." Slick grinned.

"Taylor is a former Marine. Sawyer, Olsten and Welch were with the SEALs. Smeaton was airforce."

Fuck.

"I want them dead, Damen. We have the element of surprise and we've got the motherfucking bazooka." Slick pointed out, "We can beat them. I want to kill Theodore myself though. I want to make him suffer."

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Present day…

Secret Best Friends Lodge',

Somewhere in British Columbia,

Canada,

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The fucker was alive.

His fucking chest was rising.

He was fucking alive.

The relief that washed over Reynolds was short lived as he saw the extent of the man's injuries, however. Jeeeesus, he'd need a skin graft.

"Christian!" Reynolds shouted, prodding the man's good side. Reynolds hand was bloody as he nudged Christian, leaving bloody smears on Christian's once white shirt, "Christian! I need you to wake up. Come on, Sir. It's Reynolds."

Christian's face was burnt badly; his left side of his face missing a layer of skin which started from his temple to his jaw. Reynolds had no idea if his eyesight was even intact, the burn consuming most of the side of his face including his eyebrow but not his actual eyesocket. Maybe that meant his eye was alright?

God Reynolds hoped so.

As delicately as he could, Reynolds put out his burning hair.

The man's face was perhaps not the worst burn on his body, however. His shirt had fused with his skin too, the cheap synthetic shit having burning into the flesh of Christian's left arm and side.

Reynolds hissed, nudging Grey a little more firmly now, "Christian, wake up!"

"Jason?" Christian huffed, slowly opening his beautiful, heavenly, completely alive Grey eyes, "Owww."

Reynolds quickly inspected his left eye waving a finger over it and watching as Grey's very confused pupils followed nearly perfectly.

His eye was intact. His eyebrow was gone, which Craig would be devastated about –'Grey's eyebrows are on point, Reny baby'- but he could still fucking see and that was the priority.

"It's Reynolds, sir," Reynolds explained as he checked the man's unburnt half for breaks and bleeding; everything was alright from what he could see, and Christian was moving which led Reynolds to believe that his spine would be alright for Reynolds to move him.

Not that he had a choice; he was being moved wither his spine worked or not.

"Reynolds?" Christian croaked, voice raw.

"Yes Sir, James Reynolds. You got some nasty burns Sir," Reynolds shouted over the bullets being fired around them, "Down your left side, you've been hurt quite badly but I need you to try and keep calm."

"What-AAAARGGHH!" Christian suddenly screamed out moving his head to the left and pressing his cheek into the ground, the pain of his burns finally registering and flooding his senses, "ARGH!"

Reynolds growled and grabbed Christian's waist, lifting him onto his shoulder in a fireman's lift. The weight on Reynolds' wounded arm was more than agony and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold the fridge door and Christian safely; something would slip with the way Reynold's muscles were cramping and spasming, working around the bullet lodged within them.

"Let me go!" Christian cried, "It hurts it hurts it hurts," he sobbed, disorientated and confused.

"Not yet, hold on," Reynolds growled, digging deep and standing with Christian over his shoulder, "Don't kick," he instructed, dropping the shield and sprinting as fast as his legs could manage back towards the lodge.

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Luke had kicked the door closed the minute Reynolds lunged through the threshold. He risked the windows and stood up to lock the reinforced steel door. Damn the thing was fucking fiddly, he growled lowly to himself as he fumbled with the chain first and then the ridiculous amount of deadbolts; Jason was on meticulous cunt.

Either side if him was gun fire. Jason was to his right, firing out the first window whilst Callum and Welch fired to the left.

With a thud, Reynolds had thrown Christian Grey to the floor, the man screaming out as his face his the carpet. Reynolds himself dropped to his knees as someone outside made a luck shot and fired a bullet through the open window which nearly hit the bald bastard.

"Stay down!" Welch ordered when Grey went to stand up in panic. He ignored the command so Welch turned and tackled him to the floor, pinning him on the back before a sniper could claim him. Grey wriggled and cried in pain, Welch pressing onto his burnt body to hold him still.

And he was in pain.

Fuck, it had been years since Luke had seen someone so burnt close up. Not since his days in the forces. Back in his SEAL days he'd seen many wounded and burnt soldiers who'd narrowly escaped landmines and IEDs with their lives. It was his experiences which lead him to believe that there could be no truly more agonising pain than burning. The screams burning people made were animalistic and haunting. At least with a bullet the initial burning pain was subdued in a day; the same was not true of second and third degree burns.

Heck, when Danni burnt her tit straightening her hair naked she'd had to go braless for days until the blister subdued. Luke Sawyer did not fear his death, he accepted that it would eventually happen specifically in his line of work so he'd learned to live life in the fast lane, but if he could pick his death, burning alive would be at the bottom of his desired ways out.

"Taylor!" Grey squealed in pain, panting loudly. Luke had to avert his eyes as he went to secure the bullet proof glass windows; it was hard to watch as the man squirmed, not sure what to do but call for Taylor in the hopes that his right hand man could make things better.

True to form, Taylor army crawled to the kitchen on his tummy at Marine speed, grabbing one of the bottles of water he'd had kept in the now door-less fridge before making his way to Grey. He poured the cool liquid straight to the burn sight, holding Christian's good side to steady him, "Grey, look at me, calm down."

"Dad it's okay," Teddy tried, holding his good arm with one hand, a second helping Taylor try and cut the rest of Grey's burnt shirt from his body using the Marine's switchblade, "It's okay, dad. It's going to be okay."

"It fucking hurts," Christian cried, then stuttered as he tried to steady his ragged breathing, "Fucking Hell, I'm on fire."

"I know," Jason said, freeing Christian's chest of the material. Welch crawled over with a first aid box and a damp towel, grabbing Christian's hand when he went to touch his burnt face, "Christian, stop touching your face," Jason insisted.

"It hurts so fucking bad, Taylor!" Christian hissed, shaking on the floor and crying out when Jason opened the first aid box and applied burn cream to his blistering face.

Across the room, Callum was using a knife to extract the bullet buried into Reynold's arm, the bald guy hissing in pain also, though he was nowhere near as anguished as Grey. He'd a belt between his teeth to stop him biting his tongue as Callum struggled to dig the thing out before ditching the knife completely in favour of using his fingers.

"Fucking SEAL prick," Reynolds gasped, glaring at Callum before adjusting the belt back between his lips.

"You just feel your face?" Welch asked Christian now, studying Grey's arm intently. Luke looked back over to Grey just then, studying him closely. His face was blistered and crimson red but it was his arm that was raw and white and destroyed with tufts of his shirt fused into the open wound. It was a medical emergency to everyone in the room; Luke hazarding a guess that the skin in his arm was fucked well past the dermis layer.

"Yes!" Christian gasped, "My face is molten!"

Luke grimaced and shared a look with Jason. If Grey couldn't feel his horror movie arm, there must be significant damage to his nerve endings. In terms of pain, that was perhaps a godsend but on the same merit it confirmed that this was absolutely a medical emergency for Christian and they desperately needed to evacuate him.

"The first aid box should have a shock blanket, Jason," Luke called over, jumping when someone outside tried shooting the window by Luke's head. The bullet bounced off the glass, but that didn't make it any less unnerving for him.

"He needs a doctor," Teddy insisted, staring at Jason hopefully again as the man opened the blanket and wrapped it around Grey's body, being sure not to cover his raw arm.

"Did you manage to call for help?" Jason asked the boy, handing him the wet towel to press on Grey's face to try and cool it down even just slightly. He was slightly calmer the minute he felt the coolness but Luke knew it would be short lived. He needed evacuated before he went into shock.

"I got through to the operator but I didn't have an address to give and you were busy then dad came in and I dropped the phone," Teddy admitted guiltily, looking down at his father worriedly, "I tried, I just, I didn't know it, I don't know, I tried but-"

"They can track your cell, don't worry," Jason said, squeezing his shoulder manfully before looking towards Reynolds, "How's your arm?"

"Perfect," the bald bastard mumbled sarcastically. He looked over at Luke when he caught him smirking, "You're welcome."

"I said I'd go myself," Luke reminded him and sat back from Christian and Teddy and Taylor. He crawled on his tummy back towards the window he'd just been perched by it with his AK rifle, "How many did you see?"

"I saw three confidently," Reynolds reported, laying down on his back once Callum had finished wrapping a bandage around his arm, "Possibly five but I'd be lying if I said that for sure."

"What's the next move?" Sawyer asked, looking back over at Jason next. He was their leader, after all, whether Welch was happy to relinquish control or not, "We need to get Grey to the hospital."

"This house is a fortress. It's all reinforced. Everything. We're safe as long as we stay inside. I say we wait for the emergency services to show up," Jason said, scratching his buzzcut, "They can't get us in here."

"Is there an escape route in case they do?" Callum asked.

"The attic," Jason said, pointing to the ceiling. The entire cottage was on one floor, only ever having been meant for the father and his daughter initially before becoming his Safehouse for emergencies such as this. There was an attic above them, Luke had had a nosey in it earlier to try and fix the electrics a few days ago. But he hadn't seen any sort of escape route when he'd been up there.

"There's a spot marked on the roof; it's a weak point. One good whack and it'll create a hole big enough to get out of," Jason explained, "We'd be on the roof but the drop to the back of the house is cushioned by the compost heap."

"You really did think of everything, huh?" Welch laughed, "Meticulous as always."

"Always have an escape route," Jason agreed, looking down when Christian groaned, "You're going to be okay, Sir. I promise. Unless they've got a bazooka, we're going to be safe in here."

"Get Teddy to safety," Christian chattered which worried Luke; if Grey went into shock they couldn't help him. He crawled over to Grey and laid down beside him to try and keep him a little warmer. Teddy was in bits, watching his father in agony.

Luke didn't feel any need to comfort the boy, not after how his own girls had had to suffer at the hands of Slick. He was anxious for Christian and desperately wanted him to live but it was hard for Luke to give much of a damn towards Teddy's feelings in the current moment.

"Taylor? What did you just say about a bazooka?" Welch called from the window. Sawyer's head snapped up and he spotted the man using a mirror's reflection to look out of the mirror.

Surely they didn't have…

They couldn't…

Not…

No. Dear god, no.

"You're taking the piss," Jason snapped in disbelief, "They do not have a bazooka."

"We need to get into the attic," Welch said with urgency, "Now. Move!"

"What's going on? Can we stand?" Teddy frowned in confusion, looking up at Welch and then Reynolds as he approached Grey.

"Yup, stand. If we don't we're as good as dead," Welch said to the young Grey-let. Luke watched as Welch stocked up on his weaponry, Luke and Jason doing the same whilst Reynolds lifted Grey onto Callum's back. He shouted in agony and his grip was weak so Reynolds used his belt to loop Grey to Callum securely.

"Here," Jason shouted from down the hall, pulling down the drawstring to the loft, a set of stairs falling as the latch opened, "Sawyer, you first. X on the far side of the building. Provide fire."

"Aye," Luke nodded, letting his AK hang by it's strap as he scurried into the empty loft, able to run bent over to the far side of the building where he met with a large white 'X'. Using the butt of his rifle, he whacked the mark and felt the flimsy plastering crack. He gave it a second smash when Reynolds joined him. Then a third which saw sunlight filling the attic.

He cracked it a final time and was about to cheer when the entire house shook and a tremendous roar rattled through the walls. Luke froze and took a deep breath, expecting the house to crumple around him, a tremendous phobia of his. Only it didn't, and he was pulled away from his horrible memories by Reynolds laying a hand on his shoulder.

"You're okay, Sawyer," he shouted, Sawyer realising he couldn't really hear any more as residual ringing drowned his sense of hearing.

"Door is breached!" someone, Welch Sawyer thought, shouted from downstairs. Luke gazed over his shoulder and counted Reynolds, Teddy behind him and then Jason. Callum was just entering the loft with Grey on his shoulder but Welch didn't appear to be coming up with them.

"They're reloading!" Welch declared, firing his gun in the distance, "Move! I'll fire from down here!"

"We're good to go!" Luke shouted loudly back to everyone, taking a deep breath and pulling himself through the hole in the roof tiles. Instantly, he was met with a stream of bullets but he was able to take cover behind the slim chimney by doing an artful lunge and tumble.

Reynolds came out next, dropping to his belly beside Luke and firing his own gun with a marksmanship which Luke hadn't realised the man was capable of. In seconds, the Latino brandishing the bazooka was shot and wriggling around on the floor.

"Nice shot!" Luke grinned, catching sight of Teddy pulling himself out next, then Jason who then helped Callum and Christian, "What's the plan, chief?"

"I need to get Teddy out of here!" Jason shouted over the gunshots.

Luke and Reynolds exchanged a quick look before Sawyer stared back at Jason.

"We can hold them off," Luke said firmly, Reynolds shooting again then cursing and rolling sharply to the left as a bullet barely missed him. Callum nodded at Jason and unhooked Christian before making the short leap to the ground.

Typical SEAL, Luke laughed, watching as Callum lifted his weapon and began to advance on Esposito's men fearlessly by the ground rather than attack from up on the roof like Reynolds and Luke were. Welch joined him from downstairs, creeping out of the house through the blown apart 'reinforced Luke's ass' door. He gestured to Callum, ducking behind the wreckage of Jackson's burnt out car for shelter.

"Go, the three of you," Luke demanded, "We've got this. The authorities will be here soon, we'll be fine," he promised Jason, "Get moving. Head east; there's a town about 15k in that direction."

"I'll see you soon," Jason promised, staring directly into Luke's eyes with worry.

"Yeah, yeah. Get outta hear, babe. Go get that rimjob," Luke commanded, turning back to face the fight and letting Jason, Teddy and an unstable Grey get off the roof and run east in the direction opposite the gunfight.

Luke counted six Esposito Goons in total, including the one lying bleeding to death thanks to Reynolds, but he didn't rest on his laurels. Luke was positive none of those men were Slick himself and, perhaps more concerning, none of them were that ugly, sadistic disgraced Marine that followed him around; Damen DeMire; so they were still at large.

Luke gulped and thought about his best friend dragging both Greys to safety. Fuck, Luke hoped they didn't bump into that Damen cunt. The things Reynolds said that the man had done made Luke's skin crawl. There was killing someone, and then there was skinning people alive, the latter of which was apparently Damen's speciality.

"Changing!" Callum declared, Luke shaking his head and upping his shooting game as Callum sheltered behind a large fir tree to change rounds. Out of the corner of his eye, Luke spotted a seventh man approaching from the left, a hunting knife in hand.

Reynolds must have spotted him too because he suddenly shouted out, "Welch! Behind you!"

The knife wielding man darted, missing Reynolds bullets and knocking Welch's gun from his free hand. Welch struck out, whacking the man's throat in defence whilst carefully trying to keep the knife at bay.

Luke pulled his eyes away from Welch and looked back towards the goons, taking another shot and hitting another one. Competitively, he let Reynolds know they were now sitting at 1-1 each with a nudge.

As he went to shoot his second, Luke suddenly noticed that one man had pulled a pin out of a grenade.

"Reynolds," he growled, the goon winching his hand back before launching the grenade towards the roof, "James move!"