I smile. Cute.
Something black catches my eye from the alley below. It shifts between the right side, heading for the left where a dumpster sits with the lids closed. I squint into the darkness, my breath locked in my lungs. All I see is a black river of darkness.
I stay there for several heartbeats, but nothing moves. I rub my eyes. I’m just tired and jumpy.
Right when I am about to step away, the night shifts again. This time I spot a bulky figure, then another, slipping between the brick wall and various other dumpsters.
Cold fear pinches the base of my spine. I flatten myself to the nearby wall, my heart hammering a hole through my chest.
I scoot along the wall, never taking my eyes off the window. Why, who knows. There’s nothing that can come through it unless they can jump straight up two stories. Even so, I inch along thewall at my back. When I reach the end, I step out, ready to head for Beast’s room. Before I take two steps, arms band around my waist, yanking me flush against a body that radiates heat and muscle and certainty.
“Easy, Doc.” Beast’s voice is a low growl. It rolls down my spine and melts the panic for a split second. He’s instantly alert, scanning the darkness below with a soldier’s gaze. His hand finds the back of my neck, grounding me.
I push my glasses back in place. “There’s trouble out there.”
“I know.”
My words tangle in my throat for a second before I can blurt them out. “I…I, uh, I saw them. Three—no, four men,” I correct myself quickly. “They’re spreading out.”
He curses under his breath, moving me deeper into the shadows of the living room. The air inside changes from safe a second ago to something more likefreak the hell out. It feels tight against my chest and tingles over my skin.
Behind me, I feel Beast’s muscles tense. Every line of his body coils for violence. I look up and see his jaw tightened, and his eyes shift from lover to beast mode in a blink.
“Stay close. If I say run, you run. Don’t be a hero, doc.”
He’s halfway to the bedroom to grab weapons when the front door turns into a million different ways we can die. Metal fragments explode into the loft and it’s impossible to stay upright.
The force knocks the coat rack sideways, shards of deadbolt flying, and four Russians charge inside. They are covered in black and have murder written all over their actions. Their heavyboots thud against the hardwood I’m currently hugging. It’s dark in here, but I would recognize a silhouette of a gun anywhere. But what really gives me pause is the large knives. The long blades catch a glint of light and make my heart stop cold.
Beast reacts with terrifying speed. He moves his body between me and the invaders before I can move from my spot on the floor.
A Russian lunges, swinging a length of pipe. Beast sidesteps, catches the man’s wrist, and shatters his arm with a brutal twist that ends in a gunshot crack of bone. The man howls, crumples, and Beast is already on the next—an elbow to the jaw, the crack of skull against drywall.
Ouch. Wow.I can’t help but cringe inwardly.
Two more shadows surge in, boots pounding, guns raised at Beast’s head. Just like he did back at the mansion, he eliminates the threat without pausing.
A shadow moves to my right and another man I lost track of grabs my arm, fingers digging into my skin hard enough to bruise. My glasses fall off and skitter across the floor.
Shit.
My brain goes blank with white terror, but I remember the vase on the side table by the couch.
Everything has a blurry border without my glasses. I’m not a fighter, but I’m also not a pushover who cowers in the corner. I reach deep and summon the wrath that accumulated in the depths of my soul for the last five months and use it.
Power surges through my veins and an unhealthy dose of I don’t give a fuck fuels my next moves.
I snatch up the vase, aim and smash it across my attacker’s face. Glass and water explode everywhere.
Dipshit staggers, blood streaking his cheek, but he finds it in himself to swing a punch at my jaw. My vision blurs with pain. I stumble, feet skidding on the slick floor, but I refuse to go down. Not now. Not again.
Blood tastes like copper pennies as I spit onto the hardwood.
I grab a nearby lamp and given the man is semi-confused, it’s easy to knock him out cold with a good whack of the metal base.
I stumble past him and skid on the slippery surface, catching myself before I face plant into the shards of glass.
From the corner of my eye I see a Russian barrel at Beast, knocking over a lamp, the room flickering with bursts of gold and shadow.
