Origins: The Complete Series

by J. N. Chaney

  As I struggled to stand, Colt grabbed my collar and threw me to the ground. I slid across the floor as he pushed himself to his feet and stalked toward me. He lifted his boot to kick me in the face, and I rolled out of the way. His foot smacked against the wall, and I grabbed his leg, tugging hard to throw him off balance. He fell to the ground with a reverberating thud, and his head smacked audibly against the floor.

  I straddled him and threw punch after punch at his face. My knuckles cracked from the force of each blow, and I didn't care what I hit. The satisfying snap of breaking cartilage cut through the air, and he cursed loudly when I broke his nose. I set up to throw another punch, but he grabbed my collar and rolled us both backward, throwing me headfirst into the floor.

  I hit the ground hard, rolling with no sense of up or down. When I finally stopped tumbling, the floor felt like it was tilting beneath me. A wave of all the pain I’d been trying to ignore crashed through me in a sudden rush. It was overwhelming. Almost too much to bear. I tried to sit up, but I couldn't keep my balance.

  Another fist broke across my face, and I groaned with pain. My vision blurred and everything hurt like hell.

  Laying on my back, all I could do was look up in stunned silence as Colt loomed over me. For a moment, he just looked down at me, his nose wrinkled in disgust. I tried to stand, to put some distance between us, but I still couldn’t move.

  He knelt, straddling me as he wrapped his hands around my throat. His nine remaining fingers squeezed tightly around my neck, and his thumbs pressed hard against my jugular.

  Instantly, I couldn't breathe. I grabbed his hands, trying and failing to pry them off.

  He didn’t budge.

  Colt looked down at me with a surreal expression I couldn’t quite place. Broken nose. Blood-covered face. The drenched stub of his trigger finger digging into my neck.

  As much as I’d broken his body, he still grinned like a deranged bastard as he looked down at me.

  “Do you know what it takes to be great?” asked Colt as I struggled to break free from his grip.

  I tried to knee him or kick him or do absolutely anything I could think of to break free. Nothing I did touched him.

  He had me pinned.

  “Tell me, Hughes,” he urged, leaning closer as blood stained his white teeth. “Before I kill you, I want to know if you learned the secret to being a great Renegade.”

  “Being a colossal jackass?” I asked, gasping out the words in the hopes it would piss him off enough to loosen his grip even a little.

  “You have to enjoy it,” corrected Colt, leaning his full weight into his thumbs as they cut off my windpipe. Blood and sweat dripped down his face, but his eyes never wavered. “All of it, but especially the power that comes when you get to take another man’s life. Honestly, those are the only jobs I take anymore.”

  I could barely breathe. My vision kept getting darker and darker. I clawed at the fingers around my throat, but they wouldn't budge.

  This was it. I was seconds away from dying, and only a weapon was going to get me out of this. The knife was still over by Edwin. My revolver and rifle were in the hallway, and Colt’s gun was in the corner. The closest weapon was my pistol, but it was still out of reach.

  I couldn't die like this.

  I wouldn't.

  I refused to let it all end here.

  Even as Colt choked me, I peered through the corner of my eye to see Edwin at the far side of the room, inching toward my pistol. Edwin could barely move, and every breath was a labor, but his foot was almost there. He scooted further, wincing with pain as he slid down the wall and collapsed to the ground.

  “You have to learn to enjoy watching a man's life flash before his eyes,” continued Colt. “You have to revel in watching the last shred of his life leave him. You have to give yourself over to the hate, Hughes, and lose yourself in it. That's how you make it to my level. That's the secret.”

  I didn't care anymore about being subtle. This close to death, I couldn’t afford to. I reached toward the pistol even though it was far out of reach, looking at it in my death throes, knowing that it was the only way I could get out of this alive.

  Edwin fumbled, still trying to kick it over to me.

  Colt didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't care. He had me pinned. I couldn't move, and I was gasping for air.

  Not much of a threat.

  As the edges of my vision went totally black, Edwin finally reached the pistol. He kicked at it, but his foot missed.

  Colt’s thumbs pressed harder on my windpipe, and I gasped for air one last time.

  Edwin kicked again, and this time he hit it. My pistol slid across the floor, and the butt of the gun brushed my fingertips. I reached for it, stretching my arm as far as it would go, and snatched the pistol off the floor.

  I couldn’t even feel relief. At this point, I could barely even think.

  All I could do was move.

  With one last surge of energy I planted the barrel of the pistol flat against Colt’s temple. His eyes went wide as he felt the metal against his skin, but I pulled the trigger before he could say anything.

  Colt collapsed onto me, and I grunted from the sudden shift in his weight. I threw him off, and his body rolled over the floor.

  The second his hands lifted off my windpipe, I coughed and sputtered. Every breath stung like fire, and my throat burned like all of hell had moved in. It was like I’d swallowed glass.

  I rolled onto my stomach, forgetting where the pistol even was. I didn’t even care where I was anymore. I just coughed with my hands over my head, giving myself a minute to catch my breath.

  The sting in my throat slowly faded as I sucked in breath after breath. After a while, a sense of the room around me returned. My vision cleared, and even though my whole body still hurt, I could finally lift my head enough to look around again.

  Colt lay beside me, his body still. He stared at me with wide and vacant eyes. His chest didn’t move, and a thin ribbon of blood leaked from the bullet wound in his head. No man could survive a shot like that, not even him. It was at point-blank range.

  The legendary Renegade, Colt Lockwood, was finally dead.

  I looked over at Edwin and nodded in thanks. I couldn't talk yet.

  “Don't mention it,” said Edwin weakly, his face paler than ever. His eyes fluttered closed, and I knew he wasn't long for this world if I didn't get him to a medic. I could use a medic too, but I was doing slightly better than the kid.

  My pistol lay beside me, and I snatched it as I forced myself to my feet. I slid it into the holster at my waist and stumbled as I tried to catch my balance. My shoulder, bicep, and thigh all hurt like hell. Blood dripped down pretty much every inch of my body, and half of my limbs were numb.

  “Hang in there, Ed,” I said, my voice scratchy from the thumbs that had nearly collapsed my windpipe.

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely audible, but he’d managed to push the gag out of his mouth.

  I limped across the room, making a quick detour into the hallway to grab my revolver and rifle. Leaning over to grab them hurt like hell, and I gritted my teeth as I forced my body to obey me.

  With the revolver holstered and the rifle over one shoulder, I limped back toward Edwin and knelt. I grabbed the knife nearby that was still covered in my own blood. After a quick swipe on my pants to clean it off some, I tilted him just enough to reach his hands and cut through the rope around his wrists.

  Edwin breathed heavily, every breath a labor, and his eyes closed again as he tried to look at me.

  “I thought I was a dead man,” he admitted. “You saved my life, Jace Hughes. I owe you.”

  I chuckled. “You must be delirious.”

  “I’m feeling pretty sappy,” Edwin admitted with a laugh. “So, yeah, probably.”

  I pulled him to his feet, and we both teetered for a second as we tried our best to stand. My world spun, but I briefly squeezed my eyes shut to regain my composure. I managed to hold
most of his weight and looped his good arm around my shoulders, still wincing with every movement as the bullets in me ached.

  “Let's get you out of here,” I said.

  “Yes, please,” he muttered. “I just want to go home.”

  “Yeah, kid,” I admitted. “Me, too.”

  31

  As Edwin and I limped along the dark corridor, leaving Colt's corpse behind us, something glinted along the ground at the other end of the hallway. When we finally reached it, I recognized my comm, which must have come out during the fight.

  “Lean against the wall for a second,” I told Edwin.

  He nodded, putting his weight on one foot as I reached down to grab the comm and plugged it in my ear.

  “…and answer me!” shouted Hunter.

  I scowled at the sudden voice in my ear. “I was a little busy, Hunter.”

  “Oh, thank gods,” he let out, not even bothering to mask the relief in his voice. “I never thought I’d be so happy to hear your voice.”

  “Thanks, I think.”

  “You know what I mean. You went dark. Ruby and I assumed the worst. Siggy said he couldn't reach you and we thought we were goners. We figured, fuck it, if we’re going to die, we’re taking all of these bastards with us.”

  “And?” I asked.

  “And with Siggy's help, we killed the others left in the house and got the reinforcements to surrender. Ruby has the survivors on their knees outside. The battle's done.”

  “Oh, good,” I said, rubbing my face as I wrapped Edwin's arm around my shoulder again. “Because your brother and I need a medic.”

  “You found Edwin?” asked Hunter, sounding hopeful.

  “He’s alive,” I said with a glance to the kid beside me. “Barely.”

  “Ruby, he’s alive!” shouted Hunter, and I winced again at the loud voice screaming over the comm in my ear.

  “Stay focused,” I reminded him.

  “Sorry. Where the hell are you? We searched everywhere.”

  “The basement. Seventh door down the left hallway from the main entrance.”

  Footsteps thudded overhead, getting closer. I paused as Edwin and I reached the center of the room where he’d been shot, our eyes on the stairs. I drew my pistol with my free hand as somebody approached the top of the stairwell.

  Just in case.

  Edwin looked up at me. “Captain Hughes?”

  “Yeah? What is it?”

  He paused. “Can I use your revolver for a minute?”

  I frowned, not sure where this was headed, but nodded anyway. He reached into my holster and drew the gun. Maybe he wanted to be armed in case someone else showed up we weren’t expecting, but he aimed my gun instead at the empty chair. He fired off three rounds, blowing a jagged hole clean through the seat. The gunshots echoed through the room, and when he was done, he kicked the chair onto its side.

  “Thanks,” he said as he slid the gun back in my holster.

  I chuckled and shook my head. “Sure thing.”

  The footsteps slowed. Above us, the door slammed against the wall.

  Hunter appeared a moment later, pausing for a brief moment when he saw us before finally smiling.

  “Edwin!” he exclaimed, his shoulders relaxing as he lowered his rifle and charged down the remaining stairs. He grabbed his brother's other arm without another word and guided him toward the steps.

  I let go of Edwin and allowed the two Carson brothers to limp out of the basement together. They spoke in hushed tones.

  They needed a minute after all their near-death experiences. Hunter would be able to move him faster than I could, anyway, and Edwin needed medical assistance as soon as possible.

  “You need to get him to the Star,” I said. “The medic kit won't help much, but it should buy us time to get him to a hospital.”

  “Agreed,” said Hunter as they started up the steps.

  I set my foot on the first stair, but I paused and looked over my shoulder. Down the long dark corridor, I could see Colt’s legs and boots. It was hard to believe he was really dead—that his body would rot in this bunker.

  Most of all, it was surreal to think this was over. I almost didn’t want to let myself believe it. Part of me didn’t want to let my guard down, just in case Colt had another trick up his sleeve I didn’t know about.

  I was tempted to walk back over there and shoot his corpse again, just for good measure, but Colt Lockwood couldn’t survive a bullet to the brain.

  It was finally time to put this behind me.

  Thank the gods because I could barely even walk, and my throat still stung like hell.

  “You double-checked the whole house?” I asked into the comm, my voice still hoarse.

  “I did,” confirmed Hunter through the line. “Everyone who wasn’t a cadaver has surrendered fully. They gave up when they realized Colt wasn't coming out to play.”

  “Good,” I said as I started up the stairs. “No one else needs to die today.”

  Hunter snorted. “Maybe you should let Ruby know that.”

  “What's she doing now?” I asked, exhausted. “I figured she would’ve been a bit more agreeable by now from all the blood loss.”

  “You don’t know my sister,” said Hunter. “She's about to start laying into everyone who surrendered, just to burn off some steam.”

  “Ruby?” I said into the line. “Don’t kill them—”

  “She lost her comm,” interrupted Hunter.

  I rolled my eyes. I didn’t believe that for a second.

  As I reached the first floor and made my way through the house, I noticed significantly more holes in the walls than had been there before. More corpses littered the ground, as well, and almost all of the weapons were missing.

  I wagered during the sweep when Hunter had been looking for us, he’d done a bit of shopping.

  As I rounded the corner into the main hallway and stepped over what had once been the table I’d given Ruby for cover, Hunter and Edwin were already walking out into the sunlight. I stepped through the hole that had once been Colt’s front door and squinted as the brilliant light momentarily blinded me.

  When my eyes adjusted, the first thing I noticed was the Renegade Star. It had landed not far from the house on one of the designated pads, and its engines were quiet. The smoldering wreckage of a third ship lay off in the distance, and I let out a breath of relief.

  If I’d killed Colt only to discover my ship had been blown to hell, I would’ve marched back down there and shot him again after all.

  Close to a dozen men knelt on the ground between me and the Star. They rested their hands on their heads, their eyes down as they waited in silence. Ruby limped around them, scanning them as if she were looking for an excuse to shoot them a second time.

  “Open the cargo bay, Siggy,” I ordered.

  “Right away, sir,” answered Sigmond. “It’s excellent to hear your voice and to know you're in good health.”

  “Good health is a bit of a stretch,” I admitted. “Find us the closest medic and notify Ollie that Colt Lockwood is dead. I need those bounties on us removed as soon as possible.”

  “Right away,” responded the AI.

  Ruby looked up with a scowl on her face, but the moment her gaze shifted toward Edwin, the barrel of her rifle lowered. Her lips parted, and if I didn't know better, I'd have thought she was trying to smile.

  Hunter led Edwin around the survivors, neither of the men caring about the soldiers on the ground.

  I paused in front of them and rested my good hand on the butt of my pistol. With my rifle over one shoulder and my clothes soaked in blood, a few of them couldn’t resist looking up at me. I didn't need to point a gun at them for them to know how bad things could go for them if they made the wrong move.

  Ruby slung her rifle over her good shoulder and moved in Edwin’s direction as fast as her injury would allow. I could only imagine what she and Hunter had been through while I faced off with Colt.

  With Ruby gone, I look
ed down at the prisoners once again. It was time to send the rest of Colt’s network a message, and these men were my best bet.

  “Colt’s dead,” I said. “Let me make something painfully clear to all of you—I shot him, and I'll do the same to any of you who come after me or my partners.”

  A few of the soldiers glanced at each other in movements so subtle they probably figured I hadn’t noticed. To drive my point home, I drew my revolver and cocked it.

  “After this, none of you gets a second chance with me. If you or any of Colt’s contacts come after us, we won’t stop until you’re dead.”

  It was a bit of a bluff, though only partially. Unlike Colt, I knew when to let go of a vendetta that didn’t serve me.

  I paused again, making sure the threat settled deep into their bones. “You’re not to move until my ship leaves the atmosphere. After that, as far as I'm concerned, this is over. Don't make it worse by involving yourselves in Colt’s pointless war when he’s not even alive anymore to pay you for it.”

  I scanned the faces again, but most of them were looking at the ground this time. Only a few met my eye, and those who did went still. I couldn't read their expressions through the grime and the bloodstains on their faces, but I hoped they were smart enough to listen.

  It was good enough for me. Hopefully, word would spread. If they were smart, Renegades and freelancers alike would know not to mess with Jace Hughes.

  I walked around them and headed toward the Star as Hunter and Ruby helped Edwin on board. The hovercar was already parked on board, and piles of duffle bags and loose weapons lay in the corner.

  The kids were packed and ready to go.

  As I stepped into my ship, I noticed one of the lockers sat ajar. I peered into the cabinet that had held Hunter’s weapons from when he’d first shot Decker, only to find it empty.

  I shot him a look as he led Edwin up to the lounge with Ruby in tow. He peered over his shoulder with a smirk. “I don't know what happened to them, Captain.”