Our movements blur beyond human perception. Punch. Block. Kick. Dodge. We're evenly matched for about ten seconds before Logan lands a devastating combination. My head snaps back from an uppercut that tightens a black frame around the edges of my vision.
"You seem tired, Walker," Logan taunts, barely winded. "Not a good showing in front of your girl."
I can’t help but glance at her. I need to get her cuffs off so I can distract Logan and she can escape. But Logan takes advantage of my distracted state, and he kicks my thigh, nearly disabling my leg.
I need to change tactics.
As Logan presses his advantage, I stop trying to win. Instead, I focus on one specific goal. His next punchconnects with my jaw, but I accept the blow to grab his belt. My fingers dig deep into his pocket, and I find what I’m looking for.
Handcuff keys.
I pull them out, which costs me a punch to the kidneys that nearly makes me buckle.
The keys fall to the dirt, and I sweep them with my foot, sending them skittering across the ground toward Naomi. Logan realizes what I've done a second too late. His eyes flash with fury as he drives his elbow into my sternum, cracking something deep inside.
"You think that’s gonna make her safe?" he snarls, following up with another brutal knee to my gut. “After I kill you, I'm going to take my time with her.”
Logan slips behind me, his forearm crushing against my throat. I struggle, but his position gives him leverage I can't counter. The black aperture around my vision starts to close as he cuts off my air supply.
"Watch closely, Naomi," Logan calls. "This is what fighting for a lost cause gets you."
Through darkening vision, I see Naomi scrambling toward the keys, her body contorting painfully to reach them with her chained hands. Logan's grip tightens, and my consciousness starts to slip away.
As long as she can get away. I have to stay alive long enough to give her time.
Then what happens to me doesn’t matter.
The world blurs into a dark haze as Logan's arm cuts off the blood supply to my brain. My enhanced body reaches its limit and begins to fail. Through dimming vision, I watch Naomi contorting her body to unhook herself. I feel rather than see Naomi succeed, the handcuffs and leg irons falling to the ground with a metallic clatter that echoes across the abandoned training yard. But instead of the sound ofretreating footsteps, instead of her running to safety like I desperately want her to, I hear her voice, close.
"Let him go!" she shouts, her voice raw with determination.
Logan's grip loosens slightly, just enough for me to draw a thin, painful breath. He's turning to look at her, distracted by the unexpected challenge.
Logan and I both look and find her holding his discarded weapon.
She’s desperately trying to chamber a round as Logan drops me and stalks to her.
"Run," I manage to rasp out. "Naomi, go!"
But she doesn't run. Even with the approaching monster, she still tries to get the weapon to fire. She’s able to cock it back just as Logan gets to her. She fires, but his hand is already on the barrel. The shot goes through his hand, but he barely flinches.
He swats Naomi away with his good hand like she's nothing. The impact forces a cry of pain from her lips as she crumples to the ground. Blood trickles from the corner of her mouth, and she lies there unconscious.
Something breaks inside me.
Something primal. Something beyond my training, something beyond the genetic enhancements, beyond anything I've ever experienced in combat before. It isn't cold. It isn’t tactical. It isn't the calculated fury I've used to survive countless battles.
This is white-hot and overwhelming, primal instinct thundering through my body with the force of a storm. She’s mine. My angel. And you touched her. Now you die.
The pain in my body vanishes. The exhaustion burns away in the inferno of my passion for Naomi. She is air and water and life.
I rush him and he’s surprised by my speed. I knock the gun from his hand.
The world slows as my fist connects with Logan's jaw. Bone cracks beneath my knuckles, but I feel nothing—no pain, no resistance, just the unstoppable force of my body finally unleashing its full potential.
Logan staggers back, genuine surprise flashing across his face for the first time since I've known him. I don't give him time to recover. I advance, landing blow after precise blow.
Logan tries to counter, but I read his movements like they're telegraphed in slow motion. I catch his arm mid-strike and twist, accompanied by the sickening pop of his dislocating shoulder.
