As I reach the bottom and it levels out, the soundI hearmakes chills break out along my forearms, proof that this insane plan Isla cooked up brought her exactly where she wanted to be.
The small child's shriek of laughter reaches me again, and I find myself momentarily frozen, taken back to the few moments I had with Arthur, his peals of laughter so similar to those echoing around me.
The sound brings me to a door on my left, the sounds of at least a dozen children playing inside making my heart pound. But there are no less than six rooms in this dank, dark hallway; the one filled with laughter couldn't possibly be where they took her.
I continueon,following the nameless pull in my chest that I know must lead me to Isla.I've never been more sure of anything, the door at the end a beacon, an omen, the end to all of this, one way or the other.
Not willing to frighten any innocentsthat might beinside, I open the door slowly, my eyes landing on Isla's righteously furious face. The guards who brought her down here try, to no avail, to chain her to the wall, pulling a growl from my throat as I watch their rough hands grip her arms, her legs, her throat.
One of them spots me, using his hold on her neck to slam her head against the wall before I can reach her. Rage brings me another step closer, ready to end all of this fucking shit and paint these walls with their blood and innards.
Before I can get one more step towards them, a terrible ringing fills the air, a whine so high-pitched and sharp it feels like nails are raking across my brain. It squeezes into the fibers of my being, blurring everything around me and squeezing my mind until I can't even seeproperly, much less think.
As I collapse to the ground, clutching my head in pain, Isla screams my name, her voice the only thing that might make it through the fog right now. A terrible screeching growl bubbles up my throat, the pain overwhelming as I thrash on the ground.
Fear, cold and cloying, fills mybodyas I realize I've just left Isla defenseless against three grown, armed men.Please, please,I pray to the heavens,don't let them harm her.
It's the last thought thatrenders in my head before the whole world goes dark.
A Bloody Mess
Isla
Watching Eamon's giant form topple to the ground, clutching the sides of his head as if it could stop the pain, breaks something inside of me. Seeing the person I love brought down to nothing more than a screaming pile of pain snaps whatever pieces of my soul still clung to propriety and civility.
My head spins from being cracked against the wall, the whole world tilting around me, and yet, my focus on Eamons lumpedbodyis crystal clear. Every ounce of strength I have battles against the arms holding me, starting with the one around my neck. Rather than push him away, I let him pull me closer, gripping him by the shoulder until my mouth is only inches from his ear.
I take a deep breath, letting it out with the loudest scream I can possibly muster, the screech radiating right into his eardrum. My throat burns from the scraping of my vocal cords, but it doesn't matter; itdoesn't have to even last that long. The man holding me by the throat releases, cupping his hand over his ear, shouting in pain from his ruptured eardrum. It's not much of a victory, but watching him blink and try to overcome the painonly hardens my resolve, shakingone of my arms free enough to slap that ear and the hand covering it, throwing his equilibrium off entirely.
He stumbles to the side, still clutching his ear in pain and screaming something about me being a bitch, but his words go in one ear and out the other as I think about what my next move needs to be. I don't have any weapons on me, but these armed guards have to have something I can grab. All those pockets must hold knives or something.
I try and fail to drive my knee into one of their groins, a hand slapping my leg out of the way while he blocks his nethers with his leg, turning to the side away from me. The other grips my hair roughly, my scalp screaming in agony. I lift my leg and kick against one of their sides, sending both me and the one holding my hair against the wall, his back slamming against it seconds before Islammy already pained head against his face, both hearing and feeling the satisfying crunch of his nose breaking.
God, that fucking hurts.
Only now do I realize that all those times I got pissed at Eamon for not going easy on me were definitely to my advantage. Every shove, everygentlepunch that he landed when I got lazy, every time he threw me off my balance, and I screamed at him for being such a fucking asshole.
If it weren't for every knock-down, drag-out fight with him, I'd never be prepared to face these little shits. I let the pain become a knife, focusing my deadly resolve to ensure that none of these men walk out of here alive. None of them will be allowed to harm someone ever again.
Warm blood dribbles down the back of my head, down my neck, and I'm honestly not even sure whose blood it is.
Rather than wait and wonder, I take advantage of the moments I have while he tries to ease the pain in his broken nose to pat around his utility belt and find something sharp.The onlything Imanage tograb isaverysmalldagger, maybe 3 inches long with a strange handle.I have to grip it between my pointer and middle fingers to keep a decent grip, unlike all the knives I trained with.But it's better than nothing.
The man I kicked away from us scrambles up off the floor as the one with the ruptured ear drum charges me again, leaving me with almost no options when they're both coming at me at the same time. If I strike one, the other can grab me before I do any real damage.
Instead, I drop to the floor, kicking one of their legs out from under them and sending them careening into their friends with all the momentum they were aiming at me.
Instinct tells me to glance at Eamon and see if he's all right. But if we were in training and I looked away for even a second, he would kick my ass for doing so, so I keep my focus trained on my targets.
I need toget rid ofat least one of them, or it's only a matter of time before they overpower me again. The one already on the ground from the kick tohisleg seems the easiest target, and I think back toall the thingsI know about human anatomy and the weak points ofhisarmor.A sick feeling grips my stomach, knowing it'sabout to get so muchuglier and bloodier than I could have anticipated.
I don't know what I expected.
That's a lie; yes, I do. I expected Eamon to come behind me and clean up the trouble I caused because that's what he's continually done since we met. I expected him to traipse in here and tear them all to shreds without a second thought. But now I have to do it.
He knew it would come to this. He had to. That's why he pushed me so hard.Even if he'll never admit it,he had to know that something would bring us to this point.Just like he is my weapon to wield, I'm also his. And he prepared me for this.
So, swallowing back the bile rising in my throat, I tackle the man on the ground, my knees bracketing his shoulders to keep him still just long enough to dig the tiny knife into the side of his neck, ripping it through flesh and artery with a banshee-like screech.
