Page 96 of Betraying Family Vows

Somewhere in the distance, more gunfire. Theo and Ares are probably encountering whoever the fuck those men were.

A man bursts out of a door and we all fire so quickly, three bullets sink into his chest and he collapses to the ground.

I hear another scream, closer now.

More men appear, and the gunfire intensifies, rounds ringing past my ears, embedding in the wall behind me. I duck behind a support column, shoot, reload, and pivot back into the fight. I take out another man with a shot that enters just below his left eye. His head snaps back, body following a half-second later.

The others are retreating now, firing wildly as they run around the corner.

I sprint forward, gun raised, ready to pursue when suddenly, another scream comes and I can finally pinpoint it.

Up ahead on the right, a thin strip of light spills out from beneath a metal door.

She's there. She has to be.

She screams again. I can tell she's in a struggle.

"Athena!" I yell.

I race forward, no longer caring about cover or tactics or self-preservation. All I can think is that she's alive and she's in pain and I need to get to her.

When I reach the door, I don't slow, don't hesitate. I simply plant my foot next to the handle and kick with everything I have.

The door slams inward, hinges shrieking as one of them rips off the wall.

Athena is there. She's hooded, hands bound, stumbling as one of the bastards yanks her by the arm, almost dragging her.

Another man stands to the left, turning at the noise of my entrance. His eyes widen as he registers who I am.

I don't give him the chance to react.

I put two bullets in his chest before he can even bring his weapon up. His back hits the wall and he slides down it, smearing blood across the cracked paint, his gun clattering to the floor.

The second man jerks Athena closer, his forearm clamping around her throat. She chokes, her hands scrabbling weakly at his sleeve.

He brings his pistol up and presses it against her temple.

"One more fucking move," he snarls, voice high and desperate. "And she's dead. Drop your weapons."

I can't see her face, but I know Athena is crying now, her breaths moving the fabric covering her face rapidly as she shakes.

I can't stand it so I don't lower my weapon.

My boots are planted shoulder-width apart, barrel trained right between this motherfucker's eyes.

He shifts half a step to the side, dragging her with him, trying to angle himself toward the other door.

"Drop it!" the man yells again. "I'll fucking do it."

Instead of listening, I slow my breathing. Every training session, every kill, every lesson paid in blood leads to a moment like this. Where someone close to my life is on the line and I need to perform.

I feel my heartbeat steady, the world narrowing to a perfect, crystalline focus.

One shot, I think. One clean shot.

I exhale and my finger tightens, pulling the trigger.

If my gun makes a sound I don't hear it. If my gun recoils, I don't feel it.