“You talk too much, Snake. That’s why Oliver is never going to give a fuck about you. You’ll always be expendable to him.”
He lunged without warning—no tell, no windup, just explosive movement. The blade came in low, aimed for my liver, a killing strike from someone who knew their business. I twisted, felt the blade catch my shirt, tear through fabric. Too close.
Snake pressed the advantage, the knife weaving patterns in the air between us. He was good—trained, experienced, comfortable with violence. Each attack flowed into the next, no wasted motion, every strike potentially lethal.
But I’d been trained by the best killers the government could produce, and I’d surpassed them all.
I gave ground, let him think he was winning. Let him get confident. The knife whistled past my throat, close enough I felt the wind of its passage. Another thrust toward my ribs—I deflected with my forearm, accepting the shallow cut to get inside his guard.
My elbow crashed into his nose with a crunch of cartilage. Blood exploded across his face, and his next strike went wide. I trapped his knife hand, twisted until I felt tendons tear, but he didn’t drop the blade. Instead, he drove his forehead into my face.
Stars exploded across my vision. We separated, circling now, both breathing hard.
“Should’ve just let me have her, Coop.” Blood streamed from his ruined nose, giving his scarred face a demon’s mask. “Could’ve stepped aside when I told you I wanted a turn with her.”
“Not in this lifetime, asshole.”
He came again, faster this time, desperate. The knife flickered like lightning—high, low, a feint toward my eyes then a real strike at my femoral artery. I caught his wrist, but he was ready for it, his free hand driving a punch into my ribs. Pain bloomed across my side but nothing broken, just bruised.
We grappled for control of the knife, both my hands on his knife wrist now. Snake was strong, stronger than his lean build suggested. He forced the blade toward my throat as we strained against each other. His blood from his broken nose dripped onto my face, hot and metallic.
“Gonna take my time with her,” he hissed. “Make it last. Make her beg.”
That was his mistake. The words broke my control.
I drove my knee into his groin with everything I had. He doubled over, and I wrenched at his knife hand, twisting until bones snapped. The knife fell between us. We both dove for it.
Snake got there first with his good hand, slashing wildly as he came up. The blade caught my reaching arm, slicing throughfabric and skin. I jerked back, and he pressed forward, driving me against a tree.
“Should’ve killed you weeks ago,” he gasped, reversing the knife for a downward strike. He was surprisingly skilled at using the knife in his other hand.
I caught his wrist with both hands just as the blade descended. We stood locked, the knife point inches from my chest, trembling between us as we fought for control. My arms shook with effort. Snake leaned his full weight behind the blade, and it crept closer.
The tip touched my shirt. Pressed through fabric. I felt the sharp bite as it broke skin.
With a desperate twist, I redirected his force sideways and spun him into the tree. His hand holding the knife hit the trunk hard. I grabbed for the blade, and we fought for it, spinning away from the tree. The knife was between us now, both our hands on it, twisting and turning as we struggled.
Then Snake’s foot caught a root. He stumbled, fell forward, and his own momentum drove him onto the blade.
The impact jarred through both of us. Snake’s eyes went wide, staring at me in shock. Blood bubbled from his lips.
“You don’t—” He tried to speak, hands clutching at the knife between us.
I let go and stepped back. Snake dropped to his knees, then fell sideways, hands still wrapped around the knife’s handle. His mouth moved—curse or plea, I didn’t care which.
He was dead. I checked to make sure, then rolled his body behind a fallen log. Someone would find him eventually, but not immediately.
I looked down at my arm. His knife had tagged me—a shallow cut across my bicep, maybe three inches long. Annoying more than serious, but bleeding enough to need attention. Itore a strip from Snake’s shirt, wrapping it tight. The makeshift bandage would hold.
My ribs ached from his punch and my hands were shaking from adrenaline, but I was functional. Definitely good enough to keep going. Every second I could buy Mia mattered.
I headed back into the forest, leaving Snake’s corpse to the coming dawn.
I needed to find Oliver before he found Mia.
Chapter 19
Mia
