Terror rockets through my system like lightning, but it’s followed immediately by something else—rage.Pure, white-hot fury at being hunted like prey, at being considered weak because I’m a woman, at being underestimated because I’m not part of this violent world.
I roll sideways just as his gun barks, the bullet sparking off the concrete where my head had been a split second before. My hands scramble across the rough asphalt, searching for anything, a weapon, an equalizer.
A way of fighting back.
My fingers close around cold metal, a piece of rebar, probably three feet long and thick as my thumb, with one end jagged where it broke off from some construction project. It’s heavy, solid, and in this moment, it feels likeExcaliburin my hands.
The asshole advances, his gun tracking my movement, that cruel smile widening. “Nowhere to run now,puta. Time to come with Uncle Miguel.”
“Go fuck yourself,Uncle Miguel,” I snarl back, gripping the rebar like a baseball bat.
He laughs, a sound like grinding glass. “Feisty… Lorenzo will like that.” He takes another step closer, close enough that I can smell the cigarettes on his breath, see the network of scars across his knuckles.
Sin’s voice roars from across the lot,“Elizabeth!”But he’s pinned down by covering fire, unable to reach me as two Alliance members keep him trapped behind an overturned table.
Miguel’s finger tightens on the trigger, but I swing the rebar with everything I have. The metal rod connects with his wrist with a sharp crack that I feel all the way up to my shoulders. His gun goes flying, skittering across the asphalt as he screams in pain and fury. His wrist bends at an angle that makes my stomach clench. It’s clearly broken.
“Ha!”I chime out, in short-lived celebration.
But he’s not down.
He lunges at me with his good hand, fingers clawing for my throat like a rabid animal.
I bring the rebar up in a vicious uppercut that catches him under the chin.
His head snaps back, blood spraying from his mouth as he staggers backward. Dazed but not defeated, he wipes blood from his lips and circles me like a wounded predator. “Fuckingbitch!I’m going to break your pretty little neck.” He charges again, using his size advantage to try to tackle me to the ground. We go down hard, the rough asphalt scraping against my arms as we roll and struggle. His good hand wraps around my throat, squeezing with crushing force while his broken wrist hangs useless at his side.
Gasping to try to draw in breath, black spots dance at the edges of my vision. I can’t breathe, can’t think, can only feel the crushing pressure around my windpipe.
But I still have the rebar.
So, using what little strength I have left, I drive the jagged end upward into his ribs. He howls, releasing my throat, and rolls away, clutching his side where blood seeps through his shirt like a river.
I gasp for air, my throat feeling like I swallowed broken glass. “Stay. Down,” I rasp, raising the rebar again. “Stay the fuck down!”
But Miguel is beyond reason now, beyond pain. Blood runs from his mouth and side, his wrist dangles uselessly, but his eyes burn with murderous rage. He starts to push himself up, reaching for a knife on his belt with his good hand.
“Elizabeth!” The voice comes from directly behind me, deep, gravelly, and amused despite the circumstances.
I spin to see Deek approaching at a casual stroll, his massive frame moving with surprising grace. A Glock hangs loose in his right hand, smoke still curling from the barrel.
Miguel freezes, his knife half-drawn, as he finds himself staring down the barrel of Deek’s pistol.
“Now now… Miguel,” Deek says conversationally, like he’s discussing the weather. “Didn’t your mama ever teach you not to pick on pretty ladies?” He tilts his head, studying the cartel enforcer with mild curiosity. “Although, looking at the job she did on you with just a piece of rebar, I’m starting to thinkyoumight be the lady in this situation… you’re just not very pretty.”
Miguel’s face twists with rage and humiliation. “Fuck you, you pah-thetic, sniveling, worthless piece of shit.” He spits at Deek’s boots for good measure.
Deek’s expression doesn’t change, but his voice drops an octave. “Oh… well, that wasn’t very nice. And I was gonna be merciful too.” His finger tightens on the trigger just enough to make his intent clear. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Miguel. You’re going to crawl… and Idomean crawl, back to your boss and tell him that if heever, and I meanever, threatens one of our guests again, I’m going to turn him into a fuckingpiñata.Comprende cabrón?”
Miguel’s top lip twitches in his obvious anger, but his knife clatters to the ground. Blood loss and pain have finally brokenthrough his rage, leaving him pale and shaking. Without another word, he starts crawling toward the Alliance vehicles, leaving a trail of blood behind him like a wounded animal.
Deek watches him go with satisfaction, then turns to me with a grin that transforms his determined face. “Remind me never to piss you off, Lizzie. That was some good work with the rebar. Very Viking princess of you.”
Despite everything, the terror, the violence, the fact that I just beat a man bloody with a piece of metal, I find myself laughing. It’s a slightly hysterical sound, but it’s laughter nonetheless.
“Get behind cover,” Deek says, his tone becoming serious again. “This ain’t over yet.”
As if to punctuate his words, a fresh burst of gunfire erupts from the main battle.
