Forty-Nine
Briar
?
I squeeze my eyes shut as another explosion rips through the earth. There’s a loud yell, then a cry of pain. Oh my God. Oh my God. He’s going to kill them. My heart speeds up, beating so fast that my head spins.
I try to rationalise. Glen is a demolitions expert. He’ll know that they’re walking into a trap, right? He’ll be able to tell?
Another explosion. Another shout. The sirens are getting louder. Blood rushes through my brain. I can’t breathe. My hand tightens on the chair leg, gripping the splintered wood. I have to get away from X before he shoots me. The only other door in this room leads to the ensuite bathroom. I could lock myself in there and try to regroup. There might be something in the cupboards that I can use as a weapon.
I don’t have time to think. I gather my strength and stab the chair leg backwards, aiming right for X’s crotch. X howls, his grip on me loosening, and I pull free, stumbling towards the ensuite. He’s hot on my heels, but I just about manage to slip inside the bathroom. I spin, trying to slam the door shut, but he shoves it from the other side, thrusting his whole weight into it. It starts to gradually eek open.
“Angel, please. You’re being ridiculous,” he purrs through the crack. The door opens one inch, and then another. My arms are burning. I look frantically around the bathroom. There’s a bucket of something foul-smelling in here, and I recognise the scent from the inside of my gag.
The door pushes open another inch, and my weakened arms scream. I can’t hold it closed anymore. I let go of the door suddenly, stepping aside so X comes flying into the room, almost falling. While he’s trying to catch his balance, I grab at the rim of the bucket and toss it over his head, dousing his face in whatever vile concoction he mixed up for me. His scream half-deafens me. He drops to his knees and claws at his face. I start to cough, feeling nausea spiral back up through my throat. My eyes water so hard I can’t even see what’s in front of me. I cough again, and again, bending double as I stagger back out of the bathroom and down the hallway, heading for the main room. Behind me, I hear X retching painfully.
Good. Give him a taste of what it feels like.
My head spinning viciously, I stumble over to the front door, throwing myself at it. It doesn’t budge.My palms pound against the thick metal pane. Shit. Shit. Shit.
I whip around, fighting the growing weakness in my muscles, looking for somewhere,anywhere, I can escape. There are no windows, no other doors. Not even a chimney I can wiggle up.
I can definitely hear voices now, from outside the cabin. There’s a loud clanging sound, and I realise someone is trying to shove the door open. I step back, giving them room, and double over with a burst of hacking coughs that tear at my throat. My legs finally give in, and I sink to the ground.
“Briar,” X rasps behind me. I turn. He’scrawlingout of the corridortowards me, like something out of a horror movie. His eyes are weeping and red. His shirt is ripped open and bloody. He’s still clutching the gun in one hand.
I scrabble for my chair leg, but the mixture of drugs and panic and blood loss is too much, and I can’t even feel my fingers anymore. I shuffle backwards across the floor, away from him.
There’s a thump on the outside of the door. X looks up at it hazily, then lifts his gun and fires, shooting clean through the metal. I hear a yell from the other side.
“Get away from the door!” I try to shout, but my voice is thin and reedy. “He’s—” I break off coughing. “He’s got a gun!”
There’s a pause, and then I hear Kenta’s voice. “Briar?”
Relief floods me. ThankGod.
“Briar,” Kenta’s voice is frantic. “Are you okay?”
I open my mouth to answer, but X shoots again, and I scream as the bullet whizzes past my ear.
“They can’t have you,” he mutters, still army-crawling towards me. “If I can’t have you, no one can.” He flings out an arm and grabs my ankle. “I’M GOING TO KILL HER!” He roars to the men outside. “IT’S ALREADY TOO LATE!”
“Cutter, get the cutter,” someone says outside. X yanks on my leg, pulling me towards him. I cry out, twisting and slamming the heel of my foot into his nose. He shrieks, letting me go, and I scoot away from him. Up. I need to get up. Shuffling back to the kitchen table, I grab the leg and lever myself upright. My vision goes dark as all the blood falls out of my head, but I cling to the table and wait for it to pass.
A loud buzzing rips through the room as a blade starts to saw around the edges of the front door. Sparks fly off the metal. “POLICE!” A voice calls. “STEP AWAY FROM THE DOOR!”
I watch, almost in slow motion, as X twists on the floor, pointing the gun at me. I stare down the black hole of the barrel. My legs buckle under me. I can’t run away anymore. I can’t make myself move. I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the bullet to rip through me.
Nothing.
I open my eyes and watch as X squeezes the trigger again and again, staring stupidly at the pistol. Nothing. He’s out of bullets.
It’s the biggest fight scene movie cliché imaginable. And it just saved my life.
“Ha!” Relief floods through me, giving me one last surge of power. X’s eyes widen as I force myself to straighten, coming to stand over him. I’m still clutching the chair leg in one shaking hand.
“You’re done,” I tell him, hardly believing it myself. “You’redone. You lost!”
