Chapter 18

Marcus raised his pistol, aiming at the advancing bikers, only to hear the hollow click of an empty magazine. He cursed under his breath—he was out of ammo. With no other choice, he slung the pistol over his shoulder and pulled out his axe, gripping its handle tightly. The weapon felt reassuringly solid in his hand, its blade gleaming under the faint moonlight.

Just as he was about to charge, a shot rang out, and Clara cried out in pain, clutching her arm as blood began to seep through her fingers. Marcus's jaw clenched as he glanced at her. This bastards were certainly not going to let them leave here alive.

Without another thought, he surged forward, swinging his axe with brutal precision. The first biker he encountered barely had time to register the threat before Marcus buried the blade into his shoulder, forcing a shocked gasp from the man as he crumpled to the ground. Marcus wrenched the axe free, his eyes cold, and turned to the next target.

Each swing was a blend of speed and
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