I’m dragging her toward the stairs, but she’s thrashing, nails digging into my wrist, wild-eyed and crying. “I need to find him?—”
“You’ll fucking die out here!”
A flicker of movement flashes in my periphery. A man in full tactical gear barrels into me, slamming me into the floor so hard the wind punches out of my lungs.
“Run!” I scream, just as Roxy’s hand is ripped from mine.
Bang.
A blast at point-blank range. The man on top of me convulses. His weight crushes me as he slumps, dead.
His blood hits me in a hot splash, seeping into my clothes. My hands slip over gore-slick armor, fighting to get him off me. My stomach turns as I roll free, choking, coughing, wiping blood from my mouth.
And then I see him.
Priest.
AR still raised, smoke curling off the muzzle.
Before I can move,he’s on me, hand snapping around my arm and yanking me to my feet so fast my vision goes black for half a second.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” I swing a fist toward his face.
He catches it mid-air, his fingers crushing my knuckles, and slams me back against the wall.
“I should’ve let you die. Ungrateful cunt.”
“Would’ve been better than you putting your fucking hands on me.” I twist against his grip.
“You’d be a corpse right now if it wasn’t for me.” His hold tightens, yanking me closer. “Show some fucking gratitude. Now move.”
My blood boils at his tone, at the sheer arrogance of this asshole thinking I owe him anything. “I would’ve been fine. I don’t need saving. Especially not from you.”
His jaw flexes, teeth grinding together as his eyes darken. “Move.”
“Fuck you, Priest. For all I know, these guys are Sovereign scum just like you.”
A barrage of bullets tears through the air, forcing us to dive for cover. The walls around me shred, chunks of dirt and plaster covering everything. I’m not leaving Roxy. While he’s focused on returning fire, I make my move.
Bolting from cover, I snatch an HK416 from the lifeless grip of a nearby attacker, its barrel still warm. My heart’s pounding, but there’s no room for fear. I sprint toward the last place I saw Roxy disappear, weaving through the chaos as the gunfire and shouting continue around me.
I round a corner and almost skid to a stop, my stomach churning at the sight ahead. Bodies sprawl across the floor, some jerking with final, weak breaths while others lie deathly still. Roxy’s on the ground, a guy in tactical gear looms over her, his gloved hands clamped down as she kicks and screams. Her wide, tear-filled eyes lock onto mine, full of raw, animalistic terror. It’s the kind of look you never forget.
I lift the AR and fire, the recoil slamming into my shoulder as the bullet punches through his skull. He drops instantly, dead before his body smacks the concrete.
“Roxy!” My boots slip in the growing pool of blood as I slide to her side. Her screams tear through the air, louder than the ringing in my ears. I drop to my knees, the sticky warmth soaking into my jeans. “Roxy, it’s me! You’re okay!”
I yank her to her feet and run.
Every exit is crawling with more masked bastards, their shadows flooding the stairwells and corridors. The thought of how close we are to being cornered sends a fresh surge of urgency through me.
I continue dragging her along despite her desperate cries for Maxim. He’s either escaped or bleeding out somewhere, and I’m not gambling our lives on which.
A wave of masked men, bristling with guns, cut off any chance of getting to an exit.
“Shit.” Up. We have to go up. The roof’s our only shot.
“You two! This way!”
