"Fuck me!"
Red threw his hands into the air and darted toward the ground. He grabbed the rifle from the dead man beside him, then snatched another one before turning to Charm and tossing it over.
Charm caught it midair, nearly freezing as he instinctively hugged it to his chest.
"Damn it," Red muttered, scrunching his nose. "This still isn't enough, is it?"
"Loot their weapons," Old Fool ordered, though everyone was already doing exactly that, rushing toward the men Red and Gin had taken down.
But even after stripping the fallen soldiers of every rifle, pistol, and magazine they could find, the reality became painfully obvious.
It wasn't enough.
"Fuck," Charm breathed, staring at the rifle in his hands.
His fingers trembled around the cold steel. It had been years since he'd last held a gun, and if he was being honest, he didn't even know whether he could still shoot as well as he once did.
His thoughts shattered when the rumble of approaching vehicles grew louder.
