I throw my elbow back and catch him on the temple. He stumbles and punches me in the gut. I double over with a gasp. His knee flies up to my face so I throw my head back and avoid it and follow through by punching upward.
His chin clips my fist, and his head snaps back with a yell.
Faina takes out the second man she’s fighting by climbing up him, locking her legs around his neck, and throwing both of them backward through the window of a shop. She’s the only one to climb back up and she launches herself at her third attacker as mine tackles me by slamming his shoulder into my gut and throwing me back down to the ground.
I slam my elbow down on his shoulders repeatedly, twisting and writhing to get away from him. He grunts and yells as my knee catches him in the crotch. His hold on me weakens so I scramble away from him and climb back to my feet. I kick him hard in the face and blood sprays across the dark pavement, glistening in the moonlight. Then I turn to Faina.
“Faina!”
Her head snaps up, her gaze wild, but she’s quickly swept aside by her brawling opponent.
“Stop!” barks my assailant.
Spinning to face him, a sick chill pulls through my gut as I come face to face with a gun. He’s several feet away and limping toward me while cradling his ribs, his gun trained on me without a single hint of weakness.
Can I reach my gun before he takes a shot? Doubtful.
Do I run? I could leap behind the car next to me and take cover, but there’s no guarantee I’ll make it in time. The sound of Faina fighting her attacker starts to dull and I want to look at her to make sure she’s winning, but I can’t take my eyes off the gun.
“Did he send you?” I snarl. “Took him long enough.”
“On your knees,” the man barks, waving the gun down.
That’s his mistake. As soon as the barrel dips away from my face, I make my move and leap toward the car.
At least, I try to.
The fighting flares up the weakness in my left leg, and where I hope to make it behind the car in one smooth move, my movement is slow and I stumble with a pained cry. It looks like I’m lunging toward him instead of seeking safety and he raises the gun as I fall.
“Cian!” Faina’s scream comes from my right, and I glimpse her throwing herself over a table and tackling the gunman with her knee driving into his chest. I’m frozen, watching in horror as the night air splits with the crack of a gunshot and both the gunman and Faina slump motionless on the ground.
“No!” I scream, fighting with the stiffness in my leg to get back to my feet. “Faina!”
She doesn’t move.
My heart stops dead in my chest while panic grips me, but before I can reach her, I’m tackled to the ground by more men clad in black. My struggles are useless against multiple hands dragging my arms painfully behind my back and then hauling me upright, all while my attention is locked on Faina’s motionless body as the gunman pushes her to the side.
“Faina! Fainaaaa!”
She doesn’t move.
“No! You bastard! You fucking bastard! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill—gah!” A pinch to the gut forces me to double over, silencing me as I’m dragged backward and bindings are tied painfully tight around my struggling wrists. Then I’m thrown backward onto the floor of a nearby van.
The last thing I see before a sack is forced over my head is two of those bastards standing over Faina’s motionless body.
“I’ll kill you!”
Darkness envelops me as the sack is thrust over my head and I’m kicked deeper into the van.
Panic grips my chest like a vise. It’s as if every single rib has turned into an iron cage tightening around my racing heart and my swollen lungs.
Not again. Not again, please not again!
I can’t breathe. Every open-mouthed gasp draws the rough fabric of the sack against my lips and slowly suffocates me. The sound of stomping footsteps and the deafening rumble of the van consume me. I hear voices and can’t decipher what they’re saying.
Is that Italian I hear?
Chinese?
