And with that, she rolls out into the street, using our vehicle as cover while she advances toward the heaviest concentration of enemy fire.
“Bianca!” I scream, terror coursing through my body. I’m going to fucking kill her. If she survives this, I’m going tofucking kill her.
Instead of seeking cover and calling for backup, Bianca moves through the kill zone like she owns it.
Her shooting is precise and goddamn is it hot to see her like this.
“What a woman,” I breathe, and even Dr. Schuyler’s mouth is agape as she watches Bianca fearlessly eliminate targets.
She’s demonstrating absolute fearlessness in the face of overwhelming odds, showing every shooter in the area that she’s not just unafraid of their ambush—she’s superior to it.
I scramble out after her, trying to provide covering fire while keeping Dr. Schuyler safe, but I can barely keep up with Bianca’s advance.
She moves from position to position with perfect timing, never where the enemy expects her to be, always exactly where she needs to be to inflict maximum damage.
“Six down, six to go,” she calls back to me, her voice carrying clearly over the gunfire. “Can you get Dr. Schuyler to that doorway?”
I look where she’s pointing—a reinforced entrance to an office building that would provide good cover while we wait for backup.
It’s maybe thirty yards away through open ground covered by at least three different sniper positions.
“Have you lost your mind?” I yell. “That’s suicide!”
“Just fucking do it!” she orders as she reloads her gun.
She breaks cover again, drawing fire from all remaining positions.
I weigh my options and I really hate what I’m about to do.
“I’m going to fucking kill her,” I mutter to a startled Dr. Schuyler. “Unless Matteo kills me first.”
I seize the woman, ignoring her yelp. “Let’s go, Jane.”
I sprint across the open ground with Dr. Schuyler clutched against my side.
Bullets spark off the pavement around us, close enough that I can feel the heat, but somehow none of them find their mark.
We make it to the doorway just as Bianca’s return fire eliminates two more shooters. But as I turn to check her position, I see something that makes my heart stop.
Blood spreading across her left shoulder where a bullet has found its mark.
She’s hit.
No.
But instead of going down, she just shifts her weapon to her right hand and keeps advancing.
“Bianca!” I shout, but she doesn’t acknowledge me. She’s completely focused on the remaining targets, moving through the ambush zone like some unstoppable force of nature.
That’s when the second wave hits.
More shooters emerge from concealed positions, fresh fighters who’ve been waiting for exactly this moment.
The volume of fire doubles, then triples, turning the street into a war zone.
Pop!
A high-powered rifle round catches me in the ribs, spinning me sideways as the ceramic plate in my vest cracks but holds.
