No more waiting.
Miya swung. He caught the board midair, grunting as splinters broke into his hands. She tried to pull it back, but he ripped it from her. This was bad.
The captain threw the board down and caught her around her middle. She clawed his burned eye and beat her feet against his legs. The smoke choked her. They both were coughing now, shaking with it as they fought.
Miya landed a hard kick.
He whipped around and threw her against the wall.
Pain snapped over her shoulder.
She collapsed on the ground, focused on the blood dripping from ragged cuts on his face to keep herself from surrendering to panic.
He tore the other board from the window with a growl and opened it to fresh air that poured inside. They had to get out. The flames engulfed the door now. Her body urged her to run for an exit, but she refused, intent on keeping the captain in danger every second she could, no matter what it meant for her.
Zayne’s words came back to her, how the captain never knew pain. Miya did. And she could fight through it. Always had.
He came for her and she kicked his shins.
“Stop! You'll die!” He dragged her by her ankle, so she smashed his fingers with the heel of her other foot. He screamed and punched the side of her knee.
Her strength gave out long enough for him to drag her over his shoulder and push her out the window. The fall stole her breath away. Woods surrounded the cabin, a hope for hiding or finding more weapons.
Miya caught handfuls of grass and dragged herself toward the darkness of the trees. Coughing too hard to catch her breath, she crawled across an unsteady world. Sharp pain stabbed through her knee with each movement.
His shadow fell over her.
No time. No time.
The captain clamped down on her arms as he coughed. The fit seized him, doubling him over, leaving him vulnerable. She kicked him in the mouth with her hurt leg. Howling and snarling, the captain climbed on top of her, holding her against the ground.
Blood rushed from his mouth, wads of it flinging onto her neck as he hacked.
Miya went limp, thinking of how it felt to retreat into herself, to die while still breathing. To make the other person feel like they’d won. And she quieted herself that way, saving her strength, biding her time.
His grimace brightened into a manic smile. He wrapped his hands around her throat, grip strong despite his injuries. The pressure didn't close her airway completely, only enough to hurt.
The plastic had hardened, melted with his flesh. “You almost killed us both.”
Panic pounded in her temples. It was happening again. She could barely breathe.
But she had the upper hand. She had control of herself. He didn’t.
Miya repeated it to herself as she worked her hand along the crisp grass toward the captain.
Pain turned him from a clever killer into a wild animal.
Her fingers closed around the knife at his hip and pried it free from his holster.
If he fell back on his training, that’d be the end. He’d have her. But he'd never been in danger or fought a war. Never learned to fight through the fear.
She jabbed the blade at his gut, and he grabbed it.
The edges sliced through his palm, and he jerked back. She slashed blindly and then stabbed it into his middle.
He fell back from her, dropping his head to look at his midsection. Zaps like the shock from the outlet rippled down into her fingertips, her toes. The blade stuck out from his gut.
Miya couldn't believe she'd actually done it.
