Page 164 of Stand: Part One

Did Matt tell them I wouldn’t be here?? That wouldn’t make sense if they were attacking early! Something was off about this attack. An objective to refrain from shooting at a very obvious redheaded woman with a dog should be an easy order to follow, but these guys weren’t even looking. What the fuck kind of rescue operation was this?

What if this isn’t your rescue mission at all?

My throat went dry at the very real possibility of that. Darren had many enemies. But what were the chances of back-to-back attacks from different adversaries?

The more I thought about it, the less sense any of this made. Dread seeped into my stomach as I considered the probability that Jason might not actually be in this fight. That I was about to engage in the wrong attack and completely blow my redemption period with Darren. If he caught me doing this and we both lived, I was going to be so fucked.

But there was only one way to know any of this for sure, and that meant shoving his latest rule right out the fucking window.

Like you were going to follow it anyway.

“Camaro,” I called, patting the side of my thigh for her to follow.

With knives in both hands, I slowly made my way around the doorway into the quiet hallway. I could see a few bodies crumpled over the debris of the house. Otherwise, no one else was around.

Hopefully, their guns were still attached. But then the sound of more heavy boots came barreling around the corner, fifty feet in front of me.

Only one way to find out if they’re here for me.

Hating this strategy, I stood just outside the doorway and waited for them to notice me. When they did, they all paused in unison, and I held my breath.

“Uh…hi?” I waved awkwardly.

Hi? That’s what you say?

I would have punched my inner monologue self, but I didn’t have the time. Devastation was just as swift as the bullets that were suddenly shot my way by the gunmen, forcing me to duck down and back into the room.

FUCK!

Rolling to the floor, I ducked down behind one of the couches as Camaro followed, moving just as quickly as the approaching footsteps. Hiding against the side of the tall liquor cabinet, I waited silently as the gunmen spread out into the room.

Thank fuck for all the noise and gunfire still going on around us, otherwise they probably would have heard Camaro’s panting next to me.

When the gunmen gathered into the right formation, I clutched my blades against my palms and made my move.

Sprinting into a run, I launched myself at the closest one before they noticed me, eliminating the distance he would need to shoot me. Both knives sank deep on either side of his neck as my legs wrapped around his waist, my front to his back.

The distraction gave Camaro the advantage of a sneak attack as she launched herself onto the closest gunman and trapped his jugular between her jaws.

Both men screamed. The momentum of my impact swung him around, effectively shielding me from the other gunmen lucky enough not to have something sharp buried in his neck. Yet.

Releasing my grip on one knife, I reached down and grabbed the pistol from his thigh holster and aimed it at the other gunmen, putting two bullets into his face. He dropped to the floor as I released the second knife still buried in the other one’s neck, then jumped down to kick him in the back of his knee. When he went down, I grabbed both of my knives and yanked them out, leaving him to choke on his own blood as he crumbled to the floor.

Walking around him, I moved for the last gunman, who was currently pressed up against the wall with a very large dog on top of him, wearing her jaw as a neck warmer. Watching him yank a knife from his belt, I lunged forward and stomped on his wrist, pinning it to the floor beneath my tennis shoe.

“Vabasta,” I ordered. Camaro immediately released her hold and stepped back, but her attention was still very much on the bleeding meat sack beneath her.

Crouching down, I placed my knife just under his eye, letting the tip softly drag along his skin.

“Is Jason with you?” I asked, keeping my voice low so that only he could hear.

While he was clearly in pain, he still managed to look confused.

“Who…the fuck…is that?” he croaked out as he clutched at his mess of a throat.

I tried not to be too disappointed with his answer. Not every foot soldier had all the information.

“Do you know who I am?”