“You didn’t take care of me,” I spit, shoving the blade deeper, angling it under his ribs. “You gutted me. You stole my brother from me, so I stole yours. I showed mercy. I could have killed him like you did mine.”
His eyes flare wide, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. The smirk falters, shatters into shock.
“Andris…” he chokes, his voice wet and ragged. “He was family. Blood. You… you betrayed me.” His lips peel back, desperate for one last sneer. “You’ll never wash it off.”
His knees buckle. I rip the knife free and jam it higher, into the notch of his throat.
“I’m finally rid of you,” I grind out, my voice gutted raw.
He chokes, gurgling, his fingers clawing at me, but I slam him into the wall again, pinning him there while his lifeblood spills hot down my hands. His heels drum the concrete, weight slackening, then goes still.
The great Victor Serrano, brought down in the filth he built. And all I feel is rage because Katana is still bleeding, and mine is the only hand keeping her from falling with him.
Katana sways beside me, pale but her fists are still raised like she’s daring him to get back up. My chest twists seeing her like this. Alicia hangs half-conscious in my grip, barely able to stand, and Katana’s cut open at my side. Fury burns through me hotter than the blood still dripping off Serrano’s knife. I’ve never hated him more. My knuckles ache to keep breaking faces until every trace of him is ash.
Gunfire cracks overhead, snapping me back. Sparks spit off steel, bullets whining past. No time to savor the kill. No time to breathe. We’ve got seconds.
Katana’s blood is warm against me, Alicia’s weight is dragging me down, and Serrano’s men are already closing in. Rage is still hammering my chest, but now it’s got direction.
“Move!” I roar, clamping my arm around Katana’s waist with one hand while tightening my grip on Alicia with the other. She fights me, tooth and nail, stubborn to the end, but I won’t let her fall.
We hit the double doors together. They slam wide on impact, rattling back against concrete walls hard enough to shake rust loose from the hinges. The roar of the arena cuts off behind us, swallowed by a service hall of concrete and buzzing fluorescents. Pipes drip overhead, water pattering against the stained concrete. Our footsteps slap fast, Katana’s heels clicking hard, the sound chased by gunfire ricocheting off the walls. The corridor funnels us forward, no way out but through.
Her heel skids on the slick concrete, nearly taking her down. She curses, rips them off, and flings them aside. Barefoot now, her stride steadies. We move faster, harder, survival stripping everything else away. The mask is next. She tears it free, the ties snapping as she lets it drop. I rip mine off too, the leather tangling in my fist before I throw it behind me. No reason to hide anymore. Serrano knew who I was, and the rest of these bastards know it too.
My chest burns, every muscle wired tight. Katana’s blood is warm against me, soaking through my shirt, sticky where it smears my ribs. It slicks my grip when I shift her, and I clamp harder. She braces one hand on the wall, the other swinging out hard, dropping a guard who lunges at us from a side corridor with a vicious crack of knuckles to jaw. His skull bounces off pipe metal, teeth spraying red.
I can’t take my eyes off her. Even bleeding, even staggering, she’s still swinging. Fierce, unbreakable. And the fury tearing through me isn’t just about Serrano anymore. It’s about her. No one lays a hand on her. Not then, not now, not ever.
I shift Alicia higher, her head lolling against my shoulder, and thumb my comm three quick clicks. Static flares. Then Meadow’s voice cuts in, tinny through the chaos, sharp as a knife.
“Copy. Breach in ten. Hold your line, Cross.”
“Make it five,” I growl, my breath ragged. “Service corridor off the basement.”
Gunfire chases us down the hall. Katana grits her teeth, shoulders squaring even as her silk clings wet with blood. She slams an elbow back into a guard who grabs her, the crunch of cartilage echoing. I drive my boot into another’s gut, sending him crashing over a crate.
“Almost there,” Meadow’s voice snaps again in my ear. “We’ve got SUVs clogging the ramp. Quinn and LC are pushing through. Clear a path when you see her.”
I snarl, shifting Alicia’s weight when she slips. Katana’s shoulder brushes mine, heat bleeding through her even as her body falters.
“She better be fast,” I grind out.
“Loading bay’s ahead,” Katana grits, pointing with her chin as the hall widens.
The overhead lights spill open into a garage carved into the corridor’s spine, all corrugated steel and exhaust fumes. Two black vans idle by the ramp that climbs toward daylight, engines running. Serrano’s men shout from the shadows, boots pounding concrete, rifles cracking bright as they use the vans for cover.
“Cover!” I bark, shoving Alicia tighter to my chest. My pulse hammers in my ears, each gunshot ricocheting too close, sparks spitting off steel pillars.
Katana peels forward like blood loss isn’t eating her alive. She launches at the first bastard who steps out, her fist colliding with his throat, dropping him wheezing to the concrete. Another lunges, and she grabs his jacket, slamming his skull into the corner of a van hard enough to smear red across the paint. He slides down the metal, leaving a streak.
Bullets snap past my shoulder, one kissing so close I feel the heat graze my cheek. I duck low, pivoting Alicia’s weight tighter against me, every muscle burning with the effort. Katana doesn’t flinch. She spins, heel cracking into a guard’s knee, the joint folding sideways with a pop that rips a scream out of him. She follows with an elbow that caves his nose, blood spraying across the van’s headlights.
I lunge forward, boot slamming into the side of another man’s rifle, the barrel clanging against concrete as the shotblasts wide into the ceiling. The recoil shakes dust loose from the beams, snowing grit into the haze.
“Ramp’s blocked,” I snarl, spotting the SUVs lined at the top, silhouettes moving behind the tinted glass. “We’ve gotta cut through them.”
“Then let’s clear the fucking way,” Katana spits, her voice sharp but ragged, blood still dripping down her side.
