Two, maybe three men.
Then, a whimper.
SLAP.
The sound slices through me.
Flesh.On.Flesh.
My teeth grind so hard I taste blood.
I flick my eyes to Kai.
He’s already nodding.
My brother knows me.
I’m not fucking waiting.
Three seconds.
That’s all I give.
Then I move like the hounds of hell are on my feet.
Might as well be.
Boots pounding concrete, I storm through the corridor, gun raised.
BANG.
The first door goes down.
BANG BANG.
The second.
And then I see her.
Jesus.Fuck.
She’s slumped in a metal chair, wrists raw and bloody from the zip ties she’s bound with.
Her cardigan’s half-off, face hidden behind her hair.
Tape over her mouth.
And towering over her is a slab of muscle in a leather jacket screaming in Russian, arm raised, gun pointed at her head.
There are bodies already on the floor.
Blood on the wall.
One man twitching near the corner—still alive, but barely.
They’re Hammerfall’s guys.And they’re DOA.
But I don’t give a single fuck.
