He sees the body.
His mouth opens.
I am already moving.
I catch his wrist and drive the barrel of his weapon into the side of the refrigerator before he can fire. Metal hits metal with a dull thud, too soft to carry far. His elbow comes at my face. I turn with it, let it glance off my shoulder, and slam my forearm across his throat.
He fights.
Strong but not trained.
He tries to bring a knee up into my side. I twist, barely avoiding the worst of it, and pain rips through me anyway.
No time.
I drive him backward into the pantry wall, hard enough to knock the breath from him, then hook my foot behind his ankle and take him down. He hits the floor on his back. I go with him, one knee pinning his weapon arm, my hand clamped over his mouth.
His eyes are wide now.
I bring the knife down once. Fast and clean.
He goes still under me.
I hold him there for two more seconds to make sure there is no sound, no final movement, no weapon sliding across the floor.
Then I release him and sit back on my heels for half a breath.
My side is screaming.
I press a hand to it and feel warmth.
Not much, but enough.
“Damn it,” I whisper.
I force myself up, strip the second man’s weapon, take his radio, and drag both bodies deeper into the pantry, where they will not be immediately visible from the dining room.
Then I move back to the archway and look out.
Dining room clear.
Entry hall unknown.
Upstairs unknown.
Exterior still active.
Safe room sealed.
Caterina alive.
I hold onto that last one for half a second longer.
Then I keep moving. I need to reach the main panel and bring power back to the cameras.
I need communications.
I need outside status.
