“Fucking hell, that was close,” Luc breathes when I head to them. “Stefan drives like a machine.”
Stefan is already digging through boxes. He tosses me some Glock switches and I start attaching them to one of my guns, keeping the other for single use.
“Time to go.” Dante grabs another of the switches. “They’re coming in fast.”
I glance over to the screen, to the dozens of crawling ants climbing over the smoking remains of the cars. “Dom.”
We won’t be separated. Not this time.
Gio assesses some of the weapons in the box Stefan still holds, pulling out a couple. “Everyone got what they need?”
I call out to Vincent. “Don’t die.”
He grins, giving me a salute. “You either, boss.”
We take off from the hall at a run until we reach the Courtyard, and Dante pulls me to a stop. “The path. There. Anything goes wrong, you’re going to run.”
“I’m not—,”
“Yes,” he snaps. “You are, Cat.”
They all stare at me steadily.
“You picked this on purpose.” Dawning horror fills me. “You know I won’t do that.”
"I promised you would make itback.” Dante grips my face. “If you need to, Cat, if it looks bad – that’s your way back to her.”
“Fuck you. You take the damn path.”
“Stubborn, infuriating—,”
“Incoming,” Stefan says urgently. We quieten, taking our places.
It feels organised. As if we can pick them off, one by one.
They crawl over us like the ants they felt like on the cameras. Black-clad men appear from every direction. Stefan and I put the semi-automatics to use as Dante and Gio pick off those closest. Dom and Luc focus on the sides of the large group that tries to flank us, keeping them close for our bullets.
Organised… until it isn’t.
The minutes tick by, screaming filling my ears and smoke from the guns burning my eyes. The space around us fills with our men and his, guns replaced by hand-to-hand fighting. I rip my knives out from a man who gets too close, turning to sweep my blade across the neck of another who grabs for me.
Dante and Luc are a few feet away, barely visible. I can’t see Stefan at all. Gio and Dom stay close, our backs together for protection.
Another explosion erupts, red and orange flashing across my vision as my feet leave the ground. I hit the floor with a roll, my skin scraping until I come to a stop, my ears ringing.
“Cat.” Dom bellows my name frantically. “Cat!”
“Here.” I cough, pushing myself upright. “I’m here!”
My voice croaks, and then another two of this endless river offuckingsoldiers appear, both aiming for me as I lift my gun in return.
It goes on, and on. My hair sticks wetly to my face, the scent of iron in my nose and my skin stinging from my roll across the ground. I don’t stop – can’t stop.
I can’t see them. And I’m starting to get tired.
The blow hits from nowhere. It smashes into my side, knocking the wind out of me as I crumple, losing my gun in the process. I rip my second from the holster as another hit smashes across my face.
Blood.
