Page 219 of Merciless Daddy

Nobody trained for smoke wore it that way.

“Wait,” I screamed. “He’s not—”

The man drew a pistol from beneath his coat.

The first shot hit our guard in the shoulder. He went down hard. The corridor exploded.

The second guard fired back. Angela grabbed my arm, dragging me toward the service door, but one of the fake firefighters caught her across the side of the head with the butt of his weapon.

She fell.

“Angela!”

I lunged for her. A hand closed around my hair. I drove my elbow backward. It hit ribs. The man grunted. I twisted and shoved my thumb into the gap beneath his goggles.

His scream went high and ugly, and he released me, rubbing at his face.

I grabbed the examiner’s clipboard from the floor. The metal edge cut into my palm as I swung it at the next man’s throat.

He blocked it.

I bit his gloved hand as hard as I could.

Fabric. Rubber. Blood beneath it.

He cursed in Russian.

That gave me half a second.

I kicked his knee sideways. Something gave. He dropped.

The injured guard fired again from the floor. A shot cracked past my ear. Plaster burst from the wall.

I heard Sal desperately scream, “Behind you!”

Then a needle drove into my upper arm.

I screamed.

Cold burned through my muscle.

“No,” I gasped. “No—”

Two men forced an evacuation hood over my head.Plastic pressed against my mouth. Chemical air filled my lungs.

I fought until my arms stopped answering. I clawed at the hood. I tried to reach Angela. Tried to see Sal through smoke and flashing red lights.

On the other side of the fire door, he roared my name.

Not Sal’s controlled voice.

Not Daddy’s low command.

A sound pulled from somewhere brutal and ancient.

Then the corridor tilted.

The lights smeared.