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We continue to move, weaving through a maze of containers and warehouses in the direction of the dock.

Suddenly, another man steps out between two containers behind us and reaches for Annie.

I spin around, and as I close the small distance, Annie lets out a peep, and the next second she slams the barrel of her machine gun into his gut.

My eyebrow lifts as I pass her, and I follow her badass move with a punch to his jaw that makes him slam back into a metal wall, the sound echoing loudly through the night.

Fuck, that probably just gave away our position.

I stab him twice, the movements quick, knowing the blade is puncturing his lung.

When I step back, I grab Annie’s shoulder, and as we hurry away from his body, which is sliding to the ground, I give her a squeeze before taking the lead.

Sometimes one by one, and other times in pairs, the soldiers keep crossing our path. More blood coats my clothes and skin, and my heartbeat begins to speed up slightly because I know the worst is still to come.

Unexpectedly, a body slams into me from the side, knocking me into a container. Pain shoots through my ribs when his fist connects, but I keep quiet, teeth clenched as I jam the knife into his thigh and shove him away.

Then another guy appears, running toward us. I grab the one I’m busy with around his neck and yank back as I bring my knee up into his spine. There’s a satisfying crack, then I drop him and lean backward to avoid the other guy’s knife. The tip of the blade misses my neck by an inch, which pisses me off.

I grab hold of his forearm, and yanking him to me, I look him dead in the eyes as I twist his wrist and shove the blade into his gut.

My top lip curls as I push him away, but he doesn’t go down. He comes at me again, this time with a crazed expression in his eyes, and swinging the knife wildly, he manages to cut me across my left bicep before I slam my fist into his nose, knocking him out cold.

Crouching over him, I grab the sides of his head and snap his neck, then climbing to my feet, I take a deep breath and look at Annie.

There’s sadness in her eyes as they touch on my bicep, telling me she hates seeing me bleed.

I allow another second of us staring at each other before jerking my head, indicating that we’re on the move again.

I feel the blood seeping through my shirt, making the fabric stick to my chest, but I ignore it.

Almost there.

The smell of the ocean grows stronger as we near the dock, and I hear the sound of water lapping against wood.

A narrow path opens between some containers and a building that looks like office space. Up ahead, two more soldiers stand talking in low whispers. I hold up my hand, indicating to Annie to stay back, before I step forward.

As one of the men’s heads jerks in my direction, I lunge forward and plunge my blade twice into his chest. The other one slams his gun into my shoulder blade, making the muscle burn. I twist around, and using my favorite move, I thrust my palm into his nose, forcing the bones into his brain.

When I rush forward, Annie’s right behind me. The men come faster and faster, and the fights turn more brutal as I drop body after body.

My arms begin to burn, and my knuckles are fucked.

By the time the yachts come into view, my breathing is rough and my body is taking strain, but I don’t slow down.

As the dock stretches out ahead, three men step out from the shadows, and I instinctively know this is it before I even see their faces.

Grigori Vlasov stands in an immaculate suit, his eyes dead on me. “I’m impressed.” His gaze flicks to Annie, then he says, “I’ll make you a deal. Drop the guns. If you can fight your way through the three of us, I’ll forget the betrayal and let you and your girl go.”

One of his men carries a metal bucket, and I know it contains a blow torch and starving rats. He sets it down, then folds his hands over his abdomen, his gaze resting on me as he waits for his order.

The other one is much smaller than me, and as I size them all up, I know he might be my biggest problem. Muscle doesn’t equate to being an excellent fighter.

Not trusting him one bit, I ask, “Why would you do that?”

“I keep hearing you’re the best,” he mutters. “I don’t like it one bit. No one is better than me.”

I pull the machine gun’s strap off and toss it to the side. My eyes touch on Annie’s, her eyebrows drawn together, but I see the trust in her green gaze.