Page 148 of Desperate Crimes

“Cut his restraints.I want to hear him scream.”

Oh, you’re gonna hear something, asshole.

They move in.

I move faster.

Because they didn’t tie my left hand as tight after yesterday’s beating.

And they never noticed I slipped a nail loose from the board behind me.

Rookie mistake.

I swing.

One down.

My elbow cracks his nose open like a pumpkin.

Blood streams from his face.

He shrieks.

The second guy swings his rifle.

I duck, grab it mid-motion, and shove it straight into the commander's gut, using the stock like a battering ram.

Screams erupt.Chaos floods the room.

I don’t stop moving.

Blood in my mouth.

Rage in my veins.

My body screams from the beatings, but Idon’t stop.

Not until the commander is on his knees, breath wheezing, blood soaking the front of his shirt.

In thirty seconds, the balance of power shifts.

There’s shouting outside the tent.Boots.Gunfire.

But I can’t afford to get distracted—not yet.

I grip the pistol I just pulled from a dead man’s hip and aim it at the commander’s skull.

His eyes go wide, and I see it—that moment he realizes he fucked with the wrong man.

“I told you,” I snarl, my voice low and lethal.“I’m not a Volkov.I’m afucking Viper.”

And just then—justthen—the canvas flap flies open, and timestops.

Because standing there, in combat boots, camouflage, and fire in her eyes, ismy wife.

Leanna.

Gun up.AK-47 aimeddead centerat the bastard in front of me.Her stance tight, focused.