Page 42 of Victorious: Part 3

I scramble to my feet, slipping a little on the wet floor. My lungs are burning, vision spinning from blood loss. He lunges at me again, and I grab the first thing I can, an office lamp. I swing it like a baseball bat, the metal base connecting with a sickening crunch to his temple. He stumbles, dancing for a moment in his dazed state.

So, I take advantage.

With the little energy I have left, I use my shoulder and shove him backward. We crash through a glass divider, shards raining down as we hit the flooding carpet. Water splashes over my face, temporarily blinding us both. But I take the moment to wrench the knife from his grip, but the asshole punches me hard across the face before I can use it. Stars explode behind my eyes, and for a split second, I’m blind and disoriented. My head is spinning as I fall back to the carpet, water lapping at my body.

He mounts me, slamming his fist into my face, blow after blow, knuckles cracking against bone. Pain radiates through me, but I grip the knife tighter in my palm, and somehow, I barely find the strength to jam the knife upward into his side, twisting as I go.

But it’s enough.

He shrieks, the sound animalistic, but he still fights because this son of a bitch won’t fucking die.

Finding the strength I need, I use my knees to buck him off,dragging myself upright with one hand on a filing cabinet for balance.

But the fucker charges again.

Letting out an animalic growl.

This time, I meet him head-on.

And with all the strength I have left, I drive the knife under his ribs, forcing it to the hilt with a guttural snarl, and twist. His eyes meet mine, and I grit my teeth as he chokes, blood spilling from his lips, eyes wide with shock. “Just. Fucking. Die!” I yell at him, water running down my face mixed with my blood.

A gargled moan escapes his mouth as his body slumps forward into mine.

And finally, with his heavy weight, we collapse together, back onto the wet floor. Panting for breath, I shove him off with a grunt, every muscle screaming, before I glance back over to Chains, who is still holding onto Nickel as I somehow stagger to my feet.

My body is on fire, blood runs like a river down my flank, but I’m still standing.

Just.

The sound of Chains shouting rips through the haze, and I stumble back through the water toward them, my vision tunneling. But a second Cartel soldier rounds the far end of the room, his gun raised, eyes locked on Chains and Nickel.

Not on my fucking watch, asshole!

I spot a gun on a dead cartel soldier’s side. It’s just poking out of his suit jacket, out of the water, so I reach down, grab it with one swift movement, aim steady through sheer force of will, and pull the trigger.

One shot.

The bastard drops instantly, crashing to the floor beside Nickel’s body.

Stumbling as I reach them, I drop to my knees beside Chains,the blood loss catching up to me fast. My hand lands heavy on his shoulder, solid, grounding, the only thing I’ve got left to offer.

Chains looks up at me, fear etched in his eyes. “Pres,” he murmurs, it’s a plea for help.

But there’s nothing I can do for Nickel. “I know… I’m here, brother.”

Nickel coughs dramatically, blood oozing from his mouth as Chains scowls, while holding his head above the water. “Fuck! Don’t do this, Luc.”

Nickel reaches out, his shaking hand clutching Chains’ as he weakly smiles. “You’re g-gonna be o-okay, Ty,” Nickel whispers.

“You fucking hold on, you asshole,” Chains yells, gripping onto Nickel, rocking him back and forth.

Nickel weakly smiles. “You take care of Siren for me. You tell her… I l-love her.”

Chains sniffs, shaking his head. “You tell her your damn self.”

Nickel’s smile softly fades, his eyes glaze over, then his head gently tilts to the side as he lets out a final breath.

Fuck.