“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.
A snowflake falling on Hammer’s nose pulled him out of the berserk mode, and he glanced at the growing crack in the ceiling. This house could collapse at any moment now that the walls had been weakened by the explosion.
Basement. Ryker had spoken about taking Dex to the basement.
In case someone hid there with him, Hammer grabbed the Lumberjack’s shotgun and rushed around, searching for a door, or an opening in the floor.
He spotted the trapdoor on the far side of the small kitchen next door, locked with a steel latch. Pain stabbed him all the way to the elbow when he fell to his knees and attempted to use his injured hand. He shook it off and opened the latch before looking into the small space below. Between four walls covered by shelves with all kinds of jars and cans was Dex.
“Fuck! Hammer! Are you okay?” Dex asked, getting up from the floor. He was cuffed to a pipe and a large bruise grew on his forehead as if a third eye was about to open there. Which would hardly help, considering how little foresight he’d shown today.
Hammer hung his head as fatigue settled in. He could try to search all the men for the key to those damn handcuffs, but they could have also dropped it somewhere, and he didn’t have the strength to deal with it.
Ignoring Dex’s questions, he swung his leg onto the steep, ladder-like stairs. The long cloak got between his foot and the rung, causing a new level of frustration, so he shoved it off his arms and let the bundle of damp fabric fall on Dex as he descended, careful not to touch anything with his injured hand.
“Pull your hand away. I’ll shoot the chain.”
“Y-you sure…?” Dex asked, squeezing the bloodstained cloak. He licked his lips, watching Hammer like a puppy that knew it shouldn’t have peed on the floor. Those big brown eyes weren’t saving him from consequences.
Hammer needed a fucking drink.
He reloaded, placed the barrel against the chain, as far away from flesh as was sensible, and pulled the trigger.
The bang made his ears ring again, and the close quarters amplified the scent of gunpowder, but it was dealt with at least, so he spun around and climbed back up, eager for a breather outside.
He didn’t look back, but knew Dex was right behind him, which was made obvious by an explosion of words.
“Oh fuck! You dealt with all this yourself? At least Ryker’s finally dead. And was that, like, a grenade exploding earlier? My ears are fucked. Oh, my fucking god! Did you dothistoo?” he asked when they reached the decimated living room and spotted the guy with antlers in his guts. Hammer exhaled when he noticed his knife lying in the middle of the room.
“Ryker isn’t dead,” Hammer said, dropping the shotgun as he picked up the blade and faced Dex with a deep scowl. “I had to let him flee to save you, and we might never see him again.”
Dex froze just as he was reaching for an unopened can of beer still standing on the mantelpiece. “Oh. Oh fuck. Should we… try to catch hi—Hammer, your hand!” He went pale and rushed forward, but Hammer stepped away as fury burned through the clouds of worry and fatigue.
“I told you to wait and observe. It’s not fucking hard to just not do something,” he roared at the top of his lungs.
Dex took a step back, and his shoulders fell. “I’m… I’m sorry. I was sure I had Ryker on a platter, and—it was kind of an accident… But it’s really cold here. I’m sure we can save your finger if we just go to the ER fast enough. I once saw this documentary about a guy who—”
“I’m not wasting my time on a hospital when there’s four bodies to deal with,” Hammer shouted, gesturing at the aftermath of the fight. His mangled finger, or the mess left of it, dangled from his hand like mockery, so he placed it on the same sideboard that broke Lumberjack’s head and cut it off altogether.