Chapter 26 No Air Left #2
We fought our way through the warehouse in brutal increments.
Room by room. Corridor by corridor. Bodies piled up behind us while gunsmoke turned the air thick and choking.
Dmitri moved like a machine designed for killing.
Ash fought with surgical precision. Luka coordinated it all with calm that came from doing this too many times to count.
And I just tried not to die.
My vision blurred at the edges from the concussion.
My hands shook from adrenaline and blood loss and exhaustion.
Every breath felt like broken glass in my lungs.
But I kept going because somewhere in this hell Troy was waiting, and I'd burn through every last reserve of strength before I let Rafael take him from me.
We found the stairs leading to the basement.
Dmitri went down first. Cleared the landing. Signaled all clear.
We followed into a narrow corridor lit by flickering fluorescent lights that made everything look like a nightmare given physical form.
The smell hit me first. Damp concrete. Mold. And underneath it all, the metallic tang of blood.
“Troy,” I called out. My voice echoed off the walls. “Troy, we're here.”
No response.
We moved faster. We checked rooms that turned out empty. We pushed deeper into the basement until we reached a heavy metal door at the end of the corridor.
It was locked from the outside.
Dmitri shot the lock and kicked the door open. We flooded into the room with weapons raised.
And found him.
Troy was chained to the floor. Shirtless and unconscious. His skin was pale except where bruises bloomed dark across his ribs and face. Water pooled around him on the concrete. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths that suggested he was alive but barely.
The sight hit me like a fist to the throat.
I started toward him. I got maybe three steps before Rafael stepped out from the shadows behind the door.
“I was wondering when you'd arrive,” he said calmly. His eyes locked on Luka with an intensity that made the temperature in the room drop. “Hello, Luka. It's been a while.”
“Rafael.” Luka's voice stayed level, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. “Let him go. This is between us.”
“Oh, I intend to finish what's between us.” Rafael smiled, cold and sharp. “But first, you're going to watch me break everything you've built. Starting with your precious protégé's stepfather.”
Then he attacked.
Rafael moved faster than anyone his size should have been able to.
He came at me low and hard, driving a knife toward my ribs in a strike that would have gutted me if I hadn't twisted at the last second.
The blade caught fabric instead of flesh.
I grabbed his wrist and tried to redirect the momentum.
He countered with an elbow to my already damaged ribs that sent pain exploding white through my vision.
I went down hard.
Luka stepped in and traded blows with Rafael in a flurry of violence that moved too fast to track. They were both trained. Both deadly. Both willing to kill without hesitation.
“You've gotten slower,” Rafael said between strikes. His voice was conversational despite the violence. “Age catching up with you? Or is it guilt weighing you down?”
“I'm not the one who needs to justify their choices.” Luka blocked a punch and countered with a kick that Rafael barely dodged. “You made your decision when you walked away.”
“Walked away?” Rafael's laugh was bitter and harsh. He caught Luka's next strike and twisted, trying to break the wrist. “You mean when you cut me loose because I wasn't useful anymore? When you decided the Network was more important than the man who helped you build it?”
Dmitri circled around, looking for an opening. Rafael saw him coming without even turning his head. He released Luka and spun, driving a knife toward Dmitri's throat with lethal precision.
Dmitri blocked it, but barely. The blade scored across his forearm instead, blood welling immediately. Rafael pressed the advantage, driving Dmitri back with a series of strikes that would have killed a less experienced fighter.
“You trained him well,” Rafael called to Luka while fighting Dmitri. “But not well enough. None of them are good enough. That's always been your problem, Luka. You surround yourself with people who depend on you instead of people who can stand beside you.”
Ash moved in from the side, gun raised. Rafael saw that too. He grabbed Dmitri and spun him into Ash's line of fire, using him as a human shield. Ash couldn't take the shot without risking Dmitri.
Rafael released Dmitri with a shove that sent him stumbling into Ash. They collided in a tangle of limbs. Rafael used the opening to close distance with Luka again.
“You should have killed me when you had the chance,” Rafael said. He drove a knee toward Luka's midsection that Luka barely blocked. “But you couldn't, could you? Too sentimental. Too attached to the idea that we were brothers once.”
“We were brothers.” Luka's voice was tight with controlled rage. “You chose to make us enemies.”
“You chose that when you abandoned me.” Rafael's strikes came faster now, more aggressive. “When you decided I was expendable. When you built your Network and forgot who was standing beside you from the beginning.”
They fought with the familiarity of people who'd trained together. Who knew each other's patterns and weaknesses. Every move Luka made, Rafael countered. Every strike Rafael threw, Luka anticipated.
But Rafael had prepared for this fight. He'd chosen this room specifically. The narrow space limited our angles and forced us into close quarters where his skills gave him the advantage.
I forced myself upright. My ribs screamed in protest but I ignored them. I couldn't match Rafael's skill, but I could be another body he had to account for. Another target that split his attention.
I moved in from the left while Dmitri recovered and came from the right. Ash circled behind, looking for a clean shot. Luka pressed forward, keeping Rafael engaged.
Rafael saw all of it. Tracked all of us with those cold calculating eyes.
“Four on one,” he said. “And you still think you can win?
I've been planning this for three years, Luka. Three years of studying how you move, how you think, how you protect the people you claim to care about.” He blocked Dmitri's punch and countered with an elbow that caught him in the temple.
Dmitri staggered. “Three years of preparing for the moment I could take everything from you the way you took everything from me.”
I threw a punch at Rafael's exposed side. He twisted and caught my wrist, used my momentum to throw me into Luka. We went down in a tangle.
Rafael kicked Luka in the ribs while he was down. Hard enough that I heard something crack. Luka grunted but didn't cry out.
“That's for New York,” Rafael said. “For making me believe we were building something together when you were just using me as a stepping stone.”
Ash fired. The bullet caught Rafael in the shoulder, spinning him around. Blood bloomed through his shirt.
Rafael didn't even slow down.
He came at Ash with terrifying speed. Closed the distance before Ash could fire again. Drove his knife toward Ash's throat.
Dmitri intercepted him. The blade meant for Ash's neck carved a line across Dmitri's ribs instead. Dmitri roared and drove his forehead into Rafael's face. I heard the crunch of bone. Blood poured from Rafael's nose.
Rafael stumbled back. Touched his face. Looked at the blood on his fingers like he was surprised to see it.
“Good,” he said. His voice was thick from the broken nose. “I was worried this would be too easy.”
He attacked again. This time he wasn't holding back. He moved through us like water, striking and dodging and countering with efficiency that bordered on superhuman. Every time one of us landed a hit, he adapted. Every weakness we tried to exploit, he'd already accounted for.
Luka got back up. He was moving carefully now, favoring his ribs. “This isn't about me anymore. This is about you needing someone to blame for your choices.”
“My choices?” Rafael blocked Dmitri's punch and broke his guard with a palm strike that sent him reeling. “I chose loyalty. I chose the Network. I chose you, Luka. And you threw that away.”
“You chose revenge over rebuilding.” Luka ducked under Rafael's strike and countered with a combination to the body. “You chose to burn instead of heal.”
“Because there was nothing left to heal.” Rafael caught Luka's next punch. They grappled, both bleeding, both exhausted. “You made sure of that when you decided I was too damaged to be useful anymore.”
I saw my opening. Rafael was focused entirely on Luka. I grabbed a length of chain from the floor where Troy had been restrained. I moved in behind Rafael and got the chain around his throat.
Rafael released Luka instantly. He drove his elbow back into my broken ribs with brutal precision. The pain was immediate and total. I lost my grip on the chain.
Rafael spun and drove a knee into my gut hard enough that I tasted bile. “You should have kept your head down and your hands off what didn't belong to you,” he said.
“He doesn't belong to anyone,” I rasped.
“He belongs to whoever's strong enough to take him.” Rafael smiled through the blood on his face. “And you were never that strong, Declan. Just a washed-up fighter playing house with a boy who hates you.”
The rage that tore through me then was unlike anything I'd ever felt. Pure and incandescent. The kind that burned through pain and doubt and every last shred of restraint I'd spent years building.
I went at him again. I traded blows I couldn't afford to take for ones that landed hard enough to crack bone. We were both bleeding. Both damaged. Both past the point where skill mattered and it came down to who wanted it more.
Dmitri and Ash moved in from opposite sides. Luka circled behind. All of us were bleeding now. All of us were hurt. But we kept coming.