Chapter 26 #2
But before I can say anything, there's a loud bang, the shattering of glass, and my arm explodes in pain.
The bullet tears through muscle and sinew, spinning me around with its force.
I'm knocked to my knees, my vision blurring at the edges.
Naomi screams, high and terrified, a sound that cuts deeper than the bullet.
I take her down with me, covering her body with mine even as blood streams hot and wet down my arm.
The door bursts open with enough force to tear one hinge completely free.
A man in tactical black enters, pistol raised with mechanical precision.
Before I can reach for my weapon, he fires again.
White-hot agony tears through my thigh, and I grunt through clenched teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing me scream.
The figure removes his tactical mask, but I already know who it is. Logan.
"Hello, Walk," he says, his voice as calm as if we just ran into each other on an evening stroll.
I press harder against Naomi, feeling her trembling beneath me. My blood drips onto my shirt she’s wearing, staining the white cotton crimson. But soon, Logan rips her from me. Wounded as I am, I can’t hang on to her.
“Leave her alone!” I scream.
“Wish I could.” Logan shakes his head like he’s truly disappointed. “But you brought her into this. You connected her to you, made her a target. This is on you.”
“You hurt her and I’ll fucking kill you.”
Logan laughs. His weapon is trained on me, not on her.
But Naomi won’t risk Logan killing me to get away even though I wish with everything I have that she would.
“There it is. There’s the frustration. The impotent, worthless rage against something you have no control over.
That’s what I lived in that hellhole halfway across the world.
And now I can inflict it on you. And her. ”
“You made your decision. I didn’t make you set those fires. Burn those people alive.”
“I was your teammate.”
“You’re a psychopath,” I spit.
“Yeah. But I was your psychopath.”
“You were killing innocent people!”
Logan’s voice loses the fake calm and turns dark. “No one’s innocent.”
Naomi suddenly kicks and tries to wriggle free, but her blows are nothing to him. He wraps her in his great arms— his giant frame enveloping her tiny one. He places his lips by her ear, and she winces. “Oh no, sweetheart. We have so much to do together.”
I want to destroy him. I try to rise. To lunge at him. But I’m too slow, too injured. Logan points his weapon at my head.
“No! Please!” Naomi screams, her hands clawing at the massive arm wrapped around her neck, holding her in place.
"Yes. Kill me. I’m the one who betrayed you," I grit out through clenched teeth, fighting to stay conscious as blood soaks through my pants. "Let her go and let's finish this."
Logan's lips twist into that familiar, sick smirk. “No, Walk. I have plans for her. But I hear it’s better to show than tell. So here—” He unrolls the sleeve of the arm around her neck.
He reveals taut skin that is discolored, gashed, and mended over again and again into a spiderweb of calcified scars.
“This is what they did. Over and over again. All over my body. You know how we heal. That only increases what they can do to us, the pain that they can inflict without killing us. I know she won’t be able to take as much.
But she seems pretty tough. I think she can take a lot. ”
I scream. I scream because I can’t do anything else.
Engines growl outside. Sounds like multiple vehicles approaching fast.
“That’s the cartel. My boss thought they could find you. Capture you. You’d think she would at least understand what we are. What we’re capable of. But she doesn’t. You’re going to teach her, Walk…”
Dust swirls past the shattered window, catching the morning light like a sandstorm as we hear vehicles stop.
Car doors slam. Men's voices call out in Spanish, sharp and urgent.
Logan's grip on Naomi tightens, making her wince. I search desperately for an opening, any chance to lunge at him, but my body betrays me. I can’t even stand.
“I invited them here after I tracked you to this location. But what they don’t know is that they’re not leaving here with her. Naomi’s coming with me. And I trust you’ll fight your way to her. And as you do, I want you to think about what I’m doing to her. And how you let it happen.”
Before I can scream again and beg and plead uselessly with him to stop, he raises his gun with his free hand and, without looking, fires a handful of shots through the windows toward the approaching men.
Spanish curses erupt outside, followed by the distinctive rattle of automatic weapons.
Bullets tear through the thin walls of our sanctuary, punching holes in the plaster, splintering wood.
Logan disappears through the door with Naomi, her face turned back toward me, mouth forming words I can't hear over the gunfire. Her eyes, those storm-filled blue eyes that made me feel human again, hold mine for one last desperate moment before she's gone.
Glass rains down on me as I try to crawl toward the door.
My vision tunnels, darkness creeping in at the edges.
The cartel's bullets tear through everything around me, shredding our little piece of paradise into splinters and dust. My hand claws across the floor, dragging my broken body inch by agonizing inch toward the bedroom.
Blood smears beneath me like spilled paint, marking my path.
Men shout orders, their voices tense with adrenaline.
I need my weapon.
My eyes lock on the bedside table where the rifle sits, just ten feet away. It might as well be ten miles. Each movement sends lightning bolts of pain through my shredded arm and leg. The floor tilts and spins beneath me, my vision blurring at the edges.
But I don’t stop moving. I can’t save Naomi if I don’t survive here.
I reach the bedroom doorway as three men in tactical vests burst in, weapons raised, eyes searching.
I lunge for the bed, my hand closing around the weapon. The first shot takes the lead man in the throat before he can squeeze his trigger. The second and third shots punch through the head of the man behind him. Both drop like stones.
The third man gets a shot off. Pain explodes through my side as the bullet tears into my rib cage. I don't feel the impact when I hit the floor, just the warm rush of more fresh blood pooling beneath me.
It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except Naomi.
I force myself upright, bracing against the wall. My body is a symphony of pain. I fire twice more as a fourth man appears in the doorway. His head snaps back, body crumpling like a marionette with cut strings.
I stagger toward the shattered window, firing at the remaining cartel members scrambling for cover. One drops. Two. Three. My aim is mechanical, divorced from the pain consuming my body. Each pull of the trigger is a promise.
I'm coming to save you, Naomi.
Lost blood makes the world swim around me. The floor rushes up to meet my face. I just barely catch myself on the window frame, glass slicing my palm. It barely registers compared to the bullets.
Through the broken window, I hear a vehicle roar to life. Logan's vehicle. With Naomi inside.
I have to follow. Have to save her.
I rise. It takes everything in me. But my legs buckle. I crash to my knees, then forward onto my face. The floor is cool against my cheek, sticky with my blood. Darkness crowds the edges of my vision, an encroaching tide I can't fight back.
Not now. Please, not now.
I need to stay conscious. Need to chase after her.
The last thing I hear before blackness claims me is the sound of the receding engine, taking with it the only thing in this world I've ever truly loved.