CHAPTER 21 #2
Andrei’s hand shoots out like a steel piston, catching the hot barrel of Guard 1’s rifle and shoving it violently upward toward the ceiling.
With his free hand, he lunges past the weapon and clamps directly onto the guard’s throat.
There is a sickening, wet snap of cartilage as Andrei uses his forward momentum to spin the guy around, twisting the guard’s arm so far up his back the shoulder pops out of socket.
Andrei's fingers sink so deep into the guard’s neck his knuckles turn white with the force of the grip, turning the man into a human shield before the guy can even process the pain.
He didn't even give the bastard a chance to scream.
"Arrgh!" Guard 1 gurgles, blood spraying from his lips. "Drop it!" Andrei snarls.
Guard 2 finally reacts, fighting his rifle back into alignment.
But he hesitates for a single micro-second, staring into his partner's terrified, bulging eyes, unwilling to pull the trigger and smoke his own guy.
That hesitation killed him. Andrei doesn't hesitate. Ever. Andrei wrenches the rifle out of Guard 1’s broken, twisted grip with a violent, jarring snap.
The metallic clatter of the weapon being yanked free rings out.
Guard 2's finger freezes on the trigger as he stares at Andrei's blood-slicked forearm.
"Don't shoot!" Hemlock shrieks. "Get him! "
Andrei doesn't bother looking through the optics. He just points the stolen rifle with one hand and pulls the trigger. A single, sharp crack shatters the air, the deafening boom amplified ten times by the concrete walls of the panic room. Guard 2 is thrown violently backward, his boots lifting off the floor as if he’s been kicked in the chest. The spent shell casing ejects, spinning through the air with a high-pitched metallic ting before bouncing off the concrete.
A thick spray of red mist paints the pristine white wall behind where Guard 2 just stood.
One down. One to go. This is the music of our survival.
"No!" Hemlock screams, stumbling backward.
"Target down," Andrei grunts, his voice devoid of any human emotion.
Andrei doesn't even pause to watch the body hit the floor.
He shoves the half-dead, choking weight of Guard 1 directly into Hemlock.
Hemlock lets out a frantic, wheezing breath, his hands going up in a pathetic, clawing motion as he trips over the dying guard's legs. The two men collide and hit the floor with a heavy thud. Andrei is already there. He drops the tactical rifle and fluidly pulls Guard 1’s sidearm from its holster in one smooth, uninterrupted motion.
Look at the great Arthur Hemlock now. Crawling in the dirt like the rest of us.
"Wait! I can pay!" Hemlock shrieks, scrambling backward on his hands and feet. "Shut up," Andrei spits.
Andrei reaches down and grabs Hemlock by the collar of his ruined, expensive tuxedo, hauling the billionaire up onto his knees.
He jams the hot barrel of the stolen pistol directly into the soft, trembling flesh under Hemlock’s chin.
Hemlock’s eyes roll back in sheer terror, his mouth opening and closing like a suffocating fish, his face slick with panic-induced sweat.
Andrei’s free hand twists violently into Hemlock’s perfectly styled hair, forcing his head back at a painful, unnatural angle.
He's our ticket out. Our human shield. Our plaything.
"One sound and I paint the ceiling with you," Andrei growls, flashing a dark, predatory grin.
"Please... don't..." Hemlock begs, tears finally spilling over his cheeks.
I don't need to play dead anymore. I slowly, deliberately push myself off the concrete floor. The weak, shattered victim mask falls away instantly, replaced by cold, sharpened vengeance. I wipe the streak of blood from the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand, feeling the cold air hit my sweat-damp skin. I lock my eyes dead onto Hemlock’s terrified face.
I let the oversized suit jacket slide completely off my shoulders, letting it drop to the floor.
I stand tall in my ruined, dirt-stained white slip, shaking the thick layer of dust out of my chopped dark hair so it falls like a shadow over my face.
I want him to see me. I want him to look at the broken girl who just orchestrated the end of his world.
"The act is over, Arthur," I say, my voice steady and completely empty of fear.
"You should have killed us while you had the chance. "
Andrei doesn't even glance back at me, his eyes and the gun barrel fixed firmly on Hemlock and the hallway outside.
But he knows exactly where I am. His voice is a low, vibrational growl that I feel echoing deep in my marrow.
"Weapon." It isn't a request. It isn't a suggestion.
It's a battle order. He's entrusting me with the absolute lethality we need to carve our way to the lobby. My fingers flex on instinct, my muscles tensing as I quickly scan the wreckage for the most effective firearm. Weapon. Yes. I’m never being unarmed in this fucking life again.
"Pick it up," Andrei orders, his grip tightening in Hemlock's hair.
"I’ve got your back," I reply, my voice dropping an octave.
I step right over the cooling, bleeding out body of the second guard.
My bare feet are indifferent to the warm blood pooling on the concrete, indifferent to the sharp pieces of glass I kick out of my path.
My movements are sharp, predatory, and entirely focused.
I reach down and snatch up the heavy tactical rifle Andrei dropped, my hands automatically checking the magazine and the safety with a quick, practiced movement.
The heavy, cold weight of the metal in my hands feels like the best thing I've ever touched.
It smells like gunpowder, blood, and victory.
I look up at Andrei and give him a single, hard nod.
We move as one, a single, two-headed predator emerging from the smoke and stepping into the cold wind blowing through the blown-out doorway.
"Ready," I say.
"Let's go," Andrei says, shoving Hemlock forward.