Page 234 of Operation: Defiance

That’s okay. Pain means I’m still fighting.

I scramble to my feet and run.

Footsteps thud behind me, but I don’t look back. Rounding the corner at the end of the alley, I cut across the parking lot toward the back of the store. Details blur at the edge of my vision, but adrenaline keeps my legs moving.

I duck behind a row of parked cars. My left hand is slick with blood. This…complicates things.

The van swings into the parking lot as I straighten. Right on schedule.

Time to close the deal.

Fruity Ohs and Paper Towels advance on me, four other agents jumping out of the van before it even stops moving.

I’m surrounded.

The first punch lands before anyone says a word. Paper Towels clips the side of my face hard enough that the world tilts. I return the favor with a hook that catches Fruity Ohs square in the throat. He staggers back, coughing, while one of the guys from the van grabs my arm.

I twist free, spin, and drive my elbow into his temple.

For all of five seconds, the fight feels winnable. Until someone catches my injured side with a knee, and pain consumes my torso, stealing half my oxygen at once.

A baton cracks across the back of my right thigh. My knee buckles. They’re on me instantly. My arms are forced behind my back, thick flexi-cuffs pulled tight around my wrists.

Someone else whips a black bag over my head. The sudden darkness is designed to disorient. Mission accomplished.

They muscle me forward, then throw me into the van hard enough that I see stars under the hood. The doors slam shut. Two sets of hands haul me up and shove me into a seat, then tighten a strap over my torso.

As the engine roars to life, I do my best to relax my muscles and start counting the turns.