Page 130 of Unbroken

I breathe. Just for a second. Then I call everyone else. Trick them into staying safe. Trick them into not playing the hero and endangering the innocents.

Every call is short. Every answer is instant. They trust me.

I cannot—will not—betray that.

I slide into the car and speed toward the bar. I know what I’m going to see. I already know. And I don’t want to.

But then—there they are. Every last bastard. When they see me, a big, bearded redhead grabs me and yanks me forward, his hand on my arm like a death grip. He’ll kill him for this. He’ll fucking kill him.

I can’t move and open my mouth to scream when a deep, commanding voice cuts through the mayhem.

“Get your fucking hands off her.”

The voice is low, deadly, a rasp of rage and fire.

It’s him.

My heart crashes into my ribs.

The weight of his boots thuds like anvils. He draws his weapon… and down they fall. I knew it was coming, and still, I’m unprepared for the way they scream and beg for their lives, but he pulls the trigger without hesitation.

My god.

One. By. One.

They try to run. They beg. They bleed.

They trusted him. But he executes them—cold, methodical.

“For betraying me.”

Bang.

“For your lies and theft.”

For the last one—he doesn’t rush it. He takes his time. Deliberate.

“For layingfucking handson her.”

When the last body falls, the blood puddling like oil around their boots, his phone rings.

He meets my gaze and holds up a single finger—silent, commanding. I sit back against the wall, my knees giving out. My breath catches in my throat, swallowing a scream.

Then he answers. “Yes.”

A voice snarls on the other end. Irish. Raw. Angry.

“What happened?”

“Bad intel,” he replies smoothly. “Handful of Russians here. I couldn’t hold them back.” His voice is thick with emotion, taut. “They’re dead, boss. All of them. All our men. All who attacked.”

The voice of the man on the line is shaking with rage and grief. It’s real—his voice cracking under the weight of what just happened.

“Any survivors? Any witnesses? Anyone see what you did?”

“No.”

He stares at me, and I hold his gaze as the voice carries on, relentless.

“Anyone feckin' alive?”

Me,I’malive, and if his boss finds out I’m here, I’mdead.

His eyes lock onto mine, beautiful anddevastating.

He crouches in front of me. Brushes his thumb across my cheek. He raises the phone to his mouth, and he answers with the finality of a guillotine.

“No. None.”

THE END