No please. No consideration. Nothing butcontrol.
A few things strike me at once. Whatever Ember’s doing here isn’t of her own free will. She’s a servant of some kind, though I’m not surewhichkind. Second, I have never been as eager to kill someone as I am to kill Dagon.
Third, fuck the two minutes. I’m actingnow.
It all happens remarkably fast after that. I fold my hands into my pockets, curling my fingers around the three thin throwing knives sitting there. Gunshots are loud; knives are silent. If I can get out of here without causing a fuss, that’d be much preferred.
Dagon turns around to watch Ember, eyes glinting with appreciation. One of his guards frowns on me, eyes zeroing in on my pocketed hands, and spots the outline of the throwing knives.
I pull one out and send it sailing through the air, right at his forehead. It buries in his brain to the hilt.
Allhellbreaks loose. Dagon’s on his feet in an instant, as are the two other bodyguards. One pulls out a gun with a silencer; I run straight at him, barreling into him and taking him to the floor. Another knife goes into his chest. Shouting ensues as I snatch up his discarded weapon and point it at Dagon.
Guard number three throws himself in front of Dagon, taking the shot.
He falls; I shoot again, catching Dagon’s shoulder, except the fucker turns tail andsprintsout of here. I manage to put one more bullet in his back, but the asshole doesn’t even falter. And he leaves Ember behind like she’s nothing.
And then, I see a glint of metal in the corner of my eye.
Ember. My sweet Ember is holding a gun, pointing it at my forehead. Her posture’s tense, her eyes arebored.I have to get both of us out of hereright now, except I don’t think she’ll come willingly.
We’re alone for maybe ten more seconds before I need to move us out the back exit.
“Ember,” I say. “Ember, what’s—”
She pulls the trigger.
I repeat; the womanpulls the fucking trigger,sending a bullet into mychest.
What she doesn’t count on is the ultrathin bullet proof vest sewn into my shirt—courtesy of the Nighthawk’s seamster.
Ember’s eyes widen, and she falters. That gives me the opening I need to shoot at the gun in her hands, clipping it from the side and sending it sailing out of her hands. She gasps and recoils in pain; I lunge forward, grab her arm, and yank her out of the room.
Chapter Three
Ember (Callsign: Viper)
The undercover assassin yanks me out of the backroom with such staggering force, he nearly pops my shoulder out of its socket.
My thoughts are a collection of,oh fuck oh God I’m going to get killed and thenshe’lldie…but my actions, drilled into me from years of living through repeated trials by pain and fire, are far more composed.
I send an elbow into the assassin’s gut just as he starts pulling me through the chaos-filled casino. People are running and screaming after hearing the gunshots; guards from all around are unholstering their weapons and pointing them at the man holding me hostage.
The asshole doesn’t seem to feel my hit, just like he didn’t feel the bullet I buried into his chest. Except it didn’t bury; itslid off.
Bullets start sailing at us from all sides, and alarm bells rip through the casino, hurting my ears. I try to jerk away from the killer and leave him to die, but his grip’s too strong.Is he taking me as leverage against Dagon?
I have news for him: it won’t work. Dagon doesn’t care what happens to me so long as I don’t get killed. He’s handed me over to his men more than once; in fact, that’s precisely what made me into who I am today.
It’s also what robbed me of about 18 years’ worth of memories, give or take.
“Duck!” The assassin shouts, shielding me with his body.
Is he trying to… protect me?Does he think I’m some damsel in distress?
I aim a kick to the back of his knee; it hurts me more than it hurts him. A bullet clips my arm, another grazes my shoulder. Dagon’s men are shooting indiscriminately. They don’t care if they kill me.Dagondoesn’t care if they kill me; for all I know, this is another one of his tests.
But if I die, so does someone very important to me, which is the reason I’ve kept myself alive and survived five years of being under my boss’s control.
