I swallow back the panic. Panic won’t help me save him if he’s in danger. I need to be focused. Calm.
Deadly.
There’s an empty table beside me that’s likely identical to the one I’m on. I don’t need to study it closely. It’s one I’m familiar with—metal but lightweight. The kind that can be put up before being folded away for storage. Easy to clean and convenient. We used to use them ourselves.
Until a captive managed to flip it over while still tied to it, almost taking Samson out in doing so. It was Matthias’s quick actions that had him subdued before he could do any real damage.
After that, we swapped to built-in tables. More of a hassle to clean, but being bolted to the floor, they can’t be used as a weapon. That’s the beauty of The Firm. We don’t just have generations of experience to call upon; we’re always evolving. Growing. Adapting.
Umbra might’ve gotten the upper hand tonight, but we’re still several steps ahead of them.
And we always will be.
I plan my movement, going over it in my head again and again until I don’t need to think about it anymore.
Then, I wait.
“Why isn’t he waking up?” a gruff voice says, footsteps shuffling closer. “Think he’s dead?”
“Nah, he’s still breathing.” Frustration bubbles through me. Thevoice is too far away for my plan to work. “Start with the torture. Bet that’ll wake him up fast.”
I fight to keep my muscles loose. I don’t want to be tortured by these fuckers. I mean, ideally, I wouldn’t be tortured by anyone. But if it’s going to happen, I’d rather it not be Umbra. There’s an art to it. I doubt they have any of the finesse we use.
“Bring me the blowtorch,” the first voice says. “Let’s see how much more of his skin we can melt off before he wakes up.”
My pulse ticks up as the footsteps move again. “Don’t hog it, though. I want a turn.”
“Right? I’m amazed the boss is letting us do this. Figured he’d want the privilege of torturing the mighty Wylder Buckingham himself.”
“Same. Says he’s got his hands full with the kid though.”
There’s a snicker. “You’re telling me. Who knew that scrawny fucker could fight like that? Little shit almost took my eye out.”
My heart stops in my chest.No, no, no.
“It’s a good thing you clubbed him with his helmet when you did,” the man continues. “What even was that, anyway? Blue-haired shit looked like he should’ve been at a Renaissance Faire, not on an undercover mission.”
Ice flares through me.
They have Neo.
My Neo.
I can’t wait another second.
Thankfully, I don’t have to. The second guy’s footsteps come to a halt right beside me. “Here, why don’t you?—”
He doesn’t get a chance to finish that sentence.
Opening my eyes, I swing my legs off the opposite side of the table. The muscles in my arms scream, the burn on my shoulder joining in, but I just let it fuel me. I let all the pain, anger, and fear drive me upward, pulling the table with me.
There’s a yell of surprise. I don’t hesitate. The table is cumbersome, and I have little control, given my wrists are strapped to it.
But it’s heavy.
That’s all I need.
Letting out a roar, I throw my shoulders sideways. The table goes with them, catching man number one in the temple. He crumples to the floor.
