They were smart. The northwest corner of the property has the heaviest brush cover.
For what feels like an hour, but is probably only five minutes, I don’t hear anything or anyone. Until a twig snaps behind me.
I spin around, drop to one knee, and raise the gun. Two shadows in my periphery. But one moves off to the right, and I lose him in my blind spot.
The first bullet hits the guy on the left. He goes down—hard. A dull pop comes from behind me. Bark explodes inches away. A shard slices my cheek.
Fuck me. There’s a third man.
Who am I kidding? There could be an entire army surrounding the cabin right now.
Another shot grazes my bicep. I tuck and roll, coming up and firing twice. No telltale grunts. No falling bodies.
Focus!
My arm burns. Thank God it’s only a scrape. Dropping to my belly, I hold my breath and listen.
A slight rustle to my left. Another twig snapping a few yards in front of me.
“Give it up, Blade. If you put down your gun, we’ll make it quick. Painless, even,” a man shouts.
Big mistake, shit for brains. Now I know where you are.
My boots find soft, muddy soil. Perfect for muffling my steps. The clouds are closing in, and the first snowflakes swirl in the air.
We’re too close to the cabin. Too close to one of these assholes making it inside to Emi.
Someone stifles a curse, and I take aim. The moonlight is almost gone, but I can see the vague outline of his shoulder against one of the tall trees.
Two shots. One to the head, the other to the chest. He falls with only a soft exhale.
But then the cabin door closes with a bang. Fuck.
I’m too far away. I won’t make it to the porch without catching a bullet. I have to try, though. Emi might be good with a gun, but these guys are pros. How many can she handle before she’s out of ammo?
I take off at a dead run. Only steps from the porch, a solid weight slams into my right side. The ground rushes up to meet me, driving the air from my lungs.
A punch catches me in the jaw. I swing my arm toward my attacker, slamming the barrel of the gun against his cheek.
Blood spurts from his nose. He loses his own weapon. But he’s too close. I can’t get a shot off.
He knees me in the nuts. Stars burst in my vision. Gloved fingers wrap around my throat and squeeze.
The body’s first instinct when deprived of air is to do whatever it takes to breathe. My limbs jerk of their own accord. I claw at the man’s wrist, but he only tightens his hold.
Desperation lends me strength I shouldn’t have. I slam my fist into his gut. His grip loosens slightly.
A single, raspy breath is all I get before he doubles down. It’s enough.
My thumb finds his left eye. His scream is music to my ears. Bringing my other arm up sharply, I catch him in the wrist to break his hold.
“How many?” I hiss and jam the gun under his chin. If I didn’t need to know, I’d end him in a heartbeat.
“Fuck. You.”
Grabbing his jaw, I lean closer. “Wanna try that again? Or would you rather eat a bullet?”
“Do it. You’re dead anyway.”
