A boot caught his ribs.“Smart mouth.”
“Best feature I’ve got,” he managed, breath hitching.
The serum was working fast now.His mind was floating, clarity slipping like water through his fingers.He needed to anchor himself.Stay alert.Think.There were techniques—ways to confuse truth serums, to stay coherent but unhelpful.
When the question came again—about the Bratya hit, about how he’d known—it was easy to let instinct take over.
“Maybe I was there.Maybe I wasn’t,” he mumbled, half-smiling.“Night’s kind of a blur.Lotta bullets, lotta vodka.”
“Answer properly,” the leader snapped.
“I am.Just depends on your definition ofproperly.”
Another hit.His head slammed against metal.Pain flashed white-hot.He focused on that—it kept him from slipping under.
“Where did you go after you left the apartment?”
He laughed again, hollow and mocking.“Straight to hell, buddy, but there was a slice of Hawaiian heaven there, too.You ever been to Hawaii?You should visit sometime.”
That earned him a blow hard enough to make his vision swim.He could feel the cuffs cutting into his wrists, the heat of adrenaline fighting the drug.He didn’t have much time.
Think.Move.Act.
When the next wave of dizziness hit, he shifted his weight, testing the angle of his thumb against the metal cuffs.Dislocation was going to hurt like hell—but pain was better than death.
The van swerved, slowing.They were getting ready to move him again.
Perfect.
He twisted sharply.A dull snap.Fire exploded through his hand, bringing clarity of thinking and the cuff slid loose.
He didn’t wait.
He lunged sideways, elbow slamming into the nearest man’s throat.The second turned, gun half-raised, but Drew drove a knee up and yanked the weapon away, sending it clattering under a seat.Chaos erupted.
He threw himself toward the back doors, shoulder first.The hinges screamed, metal buckling.A shout, the scrape of boots, but he was already through, the night air slicing cold against his face.
The ground came up fast.
He hit asphalt hard, the impact jolting through every nerve.His head smacked the road.Stars burst behind his eyes.
Somewhere behind him, tires squealed.Shouts.Gunfire.Red and blue lights flared in the distance—sirens wailing, getting closer.
He tried to crawl, but his limbs wouldn’t listen.The world tilted sideways, the drug pulling him under.Or it might have been the concussion he no doubt had...
The smell of burned rubber filled his lungs.
And the last thought that drifted through the fog before it all went dark was simple, raw, and unguarded.
I wish Kael were here.
