Chapter 40 Ultraviolent #2
I tried to move, but every motion of my arms sent ribbons of fire through my hands. Lucas scanned the scene, lingering a beat on the knife in my hands.
Loathing unfurled in my gut at Miller’s grin. “Look, gents! There’s my traitor.” He lowered his voice for me. “He took the bait.”
Lucas’s hair was windblown and sweat-drenched, his fair skin spattered in blood. He held his weapons ready for a fight, and Miller drew his own weapon. A loaded gun.
Leaping out of the way, Lucas dodged the first shot. One of the guards jumped at him, and Lucas’s knife found purchase in his side. I screamed as the second bullet caught the man in the chest, and he choked.
Lucas backed against the wall, the dead soldier between him and Miller, who now stood behind me, hovering his gun above my left ear.
The remaining two soldiers sprang at Lucas, impeded by the arrival of Adam. He darted through the door, tackling one man while Lucas threw a knife at the second. The man stumbled into a corner, knife buried in his throat.
I wrenched on my hands despite the pain, failing to free myself.
Miller’s gun exploded again, a bullet burying itself in the wood behind Adam. With the guard now dead at his feet, Adam rose, aiming his own gun at Miller.
My heart tripped as I stared wide-eyed at his bluff. He had no bullets. He faced Miller’s loaded weapon with nothing but a bulletproof vest and an excellent poker face.
I yanked again, whimpering. The knife jiggled.
“You hurting, Jackie?” Lucas asked from behind his human shield.
I glanced at Miller. He had the gun in his left hand, his right being the one Luke had injured.
“I’ve had worse. Not sure how you got your reputation, Lucas. You couldn’t manage to kill a wounded man.”
Sweat beading on my brow, I rocked my hands back and forth, easing the knife from the armrest, swallowing whimpers of pain.
Arm steady, Adam’s empty gun stayed trained on Miller.
“How’d you like cleaning my mess?” Lucas asked.
Miller spat.
Back and forth, back and forth.
The knife wiggled more. I kept my movements subtle. Adam hadn’t shifted, penetrating cinnamon eyes locked on Miller.
In seconds, Miller would call his bluff. I had to do something.
Ignoring the searing torment, I wrenched my hands up, tearing the blade from the chair. I reached for Miller’s wrist, knocking his aim off when his third round released. It burrowed through the wall and hit something outside that sent sparks flying into the night.
I stood, and the chair slammed into Miller as he reached for me. Lucas’s familiar hands jerked me by the waist, tossing me out of the way.
Rounds discharged while I regained my bearings.
Adam and Miller struggled on the floor.
Bang! Adam grunted and rolled away.
My stomach dropped. “Adam!”
Lucas sailed over the furniture to kick Miller’s hand before he could raise it again. The gun skittered away.
Useless with my hands tied and pinned together by the knife, I could only watch while Miller jumped to his feet. Lucas swung. Miller twisted away, his blade raised, and kicked hard, catching Lucas in the gut.
Miller grunted when Luke’s knife swiped his ribs. He grabbed Lucas by the wrist, and together they stumbled toward the wall. Miller slammed Luke’s arm over and over into the wood until he dropped his weapon.
Disarmed, Luke retreated, but Miller followed.
Smoke curled through the air, and my gaze darted to the open door, where the unmistakable orange glow of fire undulated in the night.
Urgency spiked. A moan ripped from my throat as my teeth gripped the handle of the blade, sliding it out. Blood dripped, but I sat, pinning the knife between my knees, blade up. I sawed at the rope binding my wrists.
Miller swiped, but Lucas dodged, maneuvering Miller’s weapon into his hands. Miller withdrew another from a holster at his thigh.
The threads of rope frayed, and I sawed faster.
Adam moaned on the floor.
The lingering threads unraveled…
The fire outside licked at the pine walls.
The fight left paint strokes of blood across the wood. Miller arced a powerful strike that Lucas barely avoided, parrying with a hard hit to Miller’s injured right arm. Miller kicked Lucas’s trick knee.
The fire grew.
Saw faster.
Lucas dropped, and with a hard blow, Miller buried his knife in Lucas’s chest.
I screamed.
Eyes wide, Lucas stared at the blade, blood pooling around the metal.
Saw faster!
Miller unsheathed one last knife. “You watching, sugar?”
The rope snapped, and I reached for the gun at my back.
Miller aimed his weapon at Lucas’s throat.
As he thrust, Lucas struck. His hands gripped and twisted Miller’s wrist. Miller couldn’t avoid the momentum that drove the blade through the soft, fragile tissue beneath his chin and into his head.
And in case that didn’t kill him, the three bullets I released into his back did. My hands screeched in agony.
Jack Miller fell, a wet, pathetic choke emerging from his throat as he slumped to the floor.
Lucas breathed hard, the knife still buried in his chest. His gaze met mine. The gun dropped from my hand with a loud clunk.
Behind him, the fire ate through the cabin.
A stuttered gasp and my name escaped his lips with his last breath. White as a ghost, his eyes fluttered shut, and he collapsed to the floor.