With a muted snap, the cane telescoped outward, locking into a six-foot length of hardened titanium.
The first man stepped on the bead closest to the baseboard, the crack sounding like a knuckle popping in a silent room.
Gage leaped from behind the wall with full momentum, whipped his cane around in a low arc, and slammed the shaft into the guard’s knee.
The crack reverberated as the patella shattered under the force.
The man hollered loud enough to be heard in the lobby as his leg collapsed, sending him down sideways.
The sluggish ones hand went to his leather holster. Before he could pull whatever he had, Gage reversed his swing and drove his cane upward, connecting with his elbow.
The joint popped with a sickening crunch, but Gage didn’t give him a chance to fully register the pain before he slammed the shaft into his throat, the damage immediate and eliminating his ability to scream.
Something blunt and metal clattered to the ground before the guard crumpled at his feet.
Gage stepped over him as if he were yesterday’s trash, moving fast, rotating his cane in distraction, and closing the distance as his beads popped, sketching his battlefield in sound.
The one with the complex fired a hasty shot, the bang echoing off the wall.
He drove the cane into smaller man’s stomach, folding him over and stealing his breath, before he hooked him behind the knee.
He hit the carpet with a muffled thud, and before he could think of getting up, Gage yanked his taser baton from behind his back and shoved it into his target’s chest and let the shock of fifty thousand volts put him to sleep.
The last tall one hung back, heart pounding audibly, his pistol trembling in a two-handed grip.
Gage snapped his cane up in a blur of silver and connected with the guard’s wrist, followed by an instant horizontal swing to the right side of his face.
The weighted end connected with the man’s cheek, slamming his head into the wall, the upper jawbone cracking like porcelain, sending multiple teeth skittering across the floor in a spray of blood, spit and fragments.
He dropped, choking on his own blood. Gage left him on the floor, wheezing, curled in the fetal position and regretting his life’s decisions.
The one with the shattered thigh lunged in one last attempt, grabbing at his jacket with his free hand.
Gage twisted away and stomped on the hand that’d dared to touch him, crunching the tiny bones like twigs.
The guard screamed louder, too loud.
Gage dropped behind him, cinching his forearm under his chin with measured pressure—not to kill him, but to shut him up.
The man gagged and bucked once, twice, before the fight drained out of him, leaving him silent and limp.
Gage got back into position, hidden in an alcove, head angled.
Four minutes later, Scar’s voice came over the comms. “We’re done.”
That was his cue. He went around the long way to the back stairwell. By the time he got to the door, Scar appeared at his side as if he’d been there the whole time.
His strong hand found his wrist and squeezed once. Good work.
He returned the pressure. You too.
The extraction was efficient and fast.
The rear door was held open, and the four warriors who made up their tactical escort in the field formed a moving shield around them as they rushed toward their armored vehicle.
Inside Gage exhaled, long and slow.
He, Scar, and their team would be long gone by the time the men upstairs woke up. Neither would know who betrayed who, only that the deal and any trust within their alliance was destroyed.
