He leans in close. "And do you know what the best part is? When I find Elodie... I’m going to keep her. Not as an asset. As a pet. I hear she’s quite... spirited. I think I’ll have my men break that spirit first."
Alaric lifts his head. Rage, hot and molten, floods his veins, momentarily overpowering the pain. "You touch her," Alaric whispers, "and I will tear your throat out with my teeth."
Thorne laughs. "Look at you. You’re meat on a hook, Graves. You can't even wipe your own face."
BOOM.
The building shakes. Dust falls from the ceiling. Thorne stumbles, spilling his coffee. "What the hell was that?"
The lights flicker. Then die. Pitch blackness. Emergency red lights pulse on, bathing the torture chamber in the color of blood.
Gunfire erupts upstairs.RAT-TAT-TAT.Explosions. Screams. It sounds like a war zone.
Thorne grabs his radio. "Report! What is happening?"
"Breach!"a voice screams over the static."Front gate! Someone drove a semi-truck through the wall! We have hostiles in the lobby! Multiple shooters! They’re wearing... Jesus, they’re wearing our gear!"
"Hold them back!"Thorne yells."Protect the Asset!"
"We can't! They cut the power! They have night vision! It’s a slaughter!"
Another explosion. Closer this time. The floor vibrates.
Alaric smiles. His split lip cracks open, bleeding fresh red. He knows that sound. He knows that chaos. It isn't the police. It isn't the FBI.
"She came," Alaric whispers.
Thorne turns to him, eyes wide with panic. "Who? Who came?"
"The Widow," Alaric says, his voice gaining strength. "She came to collect."
The door to the torture chamber bursts open. A guard rushes in. "Sir! We have to move! The perimeter is gone! They’re in the stairwell!"
"Get him down!" Thorne orders, pointing at Alaric. "We use him as a shield!"
The guard rushes to the chains. He fumbles with the keys.BANG.The guard's head snaps back. He drops.
Thorne spins around. Standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the red emergency lights and the smoke. A figure in black tactical gear. Slender. Lethal. Raven hair braided tight. Holding an HK416 rifle.
It’s her. Elodie.
She steps into the room. She doesn't look at Thorne. She looks at Alaric. She sees the chains. She sees the blood. She sees the ruin of him. Her face doesn't crumble. It hardens into granite.
"Step away from him," she says. Her voice is ice.
Thorne grabs Alaric. He pulls a gun and presses it to Alaric’s temple. "Drop the rifle!" Thorne screams. "Drop it or I paint the wall with his brains!"
Alaric looks at Elodie. He sees the rifle in her hands. He sees the way she holds it. Perfectly balanced. Elbows unlocked. Finger on the trigger guard. She isn't his student anymore. She is his equal.
"Do it," Alaric says to her. "Take the shot."
"Shut up!" Thorne yells, pressing the gun harder. "Drop it, bitch! I own this city! I own you!"
Elodie stares at Thorne. "You own nothing," she says.
She doesn't drop the rifle. She raises it.Breathe in.Breathe out.The silence between the notes.
Thorne is using Alaric as a human shield. Only a sliver of his head is visible behind Alaric’s ear. It is a one-in-a-million shot. If she misses by an inch, she kills Alaric.
