(BRUNO'S POV)
I keep my hand clamped over my shoulder, the pain's so sharp it feels like someone jammed a hot metal rod through it and decided to twist for fun, but fuck it, I keep going. Stopping isn't an option. Not when the stairwell is a damn echo chamber of gunfire and screams.
I push forward with my back scraping the wall, gun raised. The muzzle flashes light up the concrete like strobe lights. My guys are right behind me, boots pounding against the stairs as we climb up.
A bullet whizzes past my cheek and chips the railing beside me. I don't flinch. I fire twice and hit one bastard in the chest and he tumbles down three steps before slamming face-first into the floor.
"Move! Move! Move!" I bark.
I keep climbing up, ignoring the warm trickle running under my shirt. My heart's racing faster, my vision narrows, every step is a hammer to the shoulder but I'm not stopping until every asshole up here stops breathing.
