Page 13 of Sinful Submission

Static burst through the line.

“Storm?”

Nothing.

“Cruz?”

Silence.

I drew my gun,scanning the shadows. Someone was jamming our comms. Which meant someone knew we were here.

The first bullet crackled past my head before I registered the sound. I dove behind a container, counting the shots. There were three shooters.

They weren’t the same ones from the university. These moved with silence and intention.

I returned fire, catching one in the shoulder. He dropped with a grunt that told me he was wearing body armor—most likely high-end gear.

More bullets pinged off metal nearby. They were trying to box me in. It was a good move, but they didn’t know these docks like I did.

I slipped between containers, using the maze-like layout to my advantage. One shooter followed, that was a mistake on his part. I caught him around the corner and drove my elbow into his throat – he gasped, it was the last sound he would ever make.

His partner got two shots off before my bullet tunneled through his eye. It was a clean kill—professional courtesy of The Paradox.

The third had better sense. He fell back to cover, which was smart but not clever enough.

I circled wide, using the shadows to my advantage. His breath gave him away—it was too fast and shallow, a tell-tale sign of his location.

“It’s nothing personal,” he called. “Just business.”

I stepped out behind him and pressed my gun to his head. “Everything about her is personal.”

He froze. “You don’t understand.”

“No.” I grabbed his collar and slammed him against a steel column. “You don’t understand. Every breath you take without telling me where she is, is a breath I let you have.”

“I can’t do that.”

I broke his finger. The scream echoed off the shipping containers.

“Where is she?”

“They’ll kill me!”

Another finger snapped.

“They’ll kill me slow,” he gasped.

I leaned close and let him see the devil in my eyes. “Do you really think they’re your biggest problem?”

The sound of a gun being racked behind me caught my attention. I spun, using my captive as a shield. Cruz stood there with his weapon trained on a shadow I hadn’t seen.

“We got a runner,” he said.

“Take him.”

Cruz’s target bolted. It was his choice, not that it would get him anywhere. The shot caught him in the leg and sent him collapsing to the ground.

I turned my prey around to face me. He’d used the distraction to draw a knife. He was on the edge and doing whatever he thought would give him an advantage, which was understandable but nonsensical. I grabbed his wrist and twisted until the bones ground together. The blade clattered to the ground as he sank to his knees.