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As he fell, I swiped the blade beneath his chin, then up his torso.
A hot, putrid spray coated my face. My chest. My arms and my legs. Like some fucking horror film, the man kept bleeding, gasping, and sputtering. It decorated the mat, the wall. There was no way I’d be able to clean it all up.
My heart sank a little knowing this was it for me. Time to leave.
As a shower of bullets began to pop all around me, I ran. When a clear shot came, I launched the blade.
It made contact, knocking a heavy body to the floor.
I charged at it, going for the wicked-looking pistol. Swiping it from the bleeding man who was crawling toward his weapon, I pointed the nozzle at his head and pulled the trigger.
My face turned to avoid the worst of the bodily fluid explosion, but the smell was inescapable. I gagged, forcing myself back a step.
Another figure moved above me. The barest light showed our guns trained on each other.
“You are released from your loyalty to that man,” I said, surprised by how steady my voice was. “Go and I won’t shoot you too.”
He seemed to consider it, but unlike me, he wasn’t wounded. “You can be assured that my next bullet won’t miss.”
I sighed. Then pulled the trigger.
Knowing he had too, I dove. My hair stirred, then my cheek stung. I lifted my hand and felt the cooled blood and gore that wasn’t mine, mixed with the liquid heat that was. My stomach churned violently. The thunk of the final shooter falling to the floor was barely audible over the blood rushing through my ears.
I’d killed them. All three of them. Realization dawned on me as I looked around the room. In the morning, Sensei LeBlanc would come in and see bullet holes and murder everywhere.
Bile rose in my throat. I doubled over and heaved, spilling my stomach out onto the floor, adding to the mess I already needed to clean up.
When I finished, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and stood. My legs were shaky.
The searing pain in my shoulder focused my thoughts: Check my wounds first.
I headed into the back, rifling for my bag. When I found it, I shuffled around for my phone. The device in my hand made me groan in relief. I switched on the light and went straight to the back door, checking the lock. It was damaged, having been pried open. They would have disarmed the alarm, which was how I didn’t notice intruders.
I opened the door and peered out into the snowy night. It was silent in a way that made me relax slightly. Spying the dumpster to my right, I bit my lip.
I could throw the bodies in, but they’d be found first thing in the morning.
Should I call the cops and tell them I simply defended myself? There was no way Morgan didn’t have police in his pocket. But here, in nowhere, South Dakota?
I shook my head. It was too risky.
A plan formed, and I let it take hold, setting my spine. I shut the door and pushed the desk in front of it as best I could, wincing at the burn in my shoulder. The flow of blood had eased, telling me it wasn’t serious.
Once I was fairly certain no one would attack without my knowing, I headed for the shower in the back. The filthy clothes were discarded on the floor of the shower, washing away the various liquids I didn’t study too closely. Dried and changed into my only other set of clothes, I got to work, cleaning the monstrous mess. The holes on the floor would be impossible to ignore.
Hours passed, morning crawling its way closer. I managed to heave the three dead men onto the ruined mat, replacing it with an extra. As I dragged them to the back my phone chimed a warning that it would soon die. I swore, picking it up and checking the wall and floors. Everything reeked of bleach and other cleaners, but it was the best I could do under the circumstances. Two bags of rubbish were piled near the back door filled with every rag I could find and my ruined workout clothes.
I stared at the mat, avoiding the three still bodies atop it. With a deep sigh, I moved the desk and peered left, then right. There was no one in sight, and thanks to the wind blowing and waves of snow lashing the side of the building, the security vehicle was not on duty. I tried to tug the mat out, but it wouldn’t budge.
After rolling the first guy off, I tried again. The progress was slow, every inch of my body straining with the effort.
Shivers wracked my body when I propped open the lid to the dumpster and lifted the first guy. Nothing but adrenaline and the sheer will to live allowed me to push the limp form into the dumpster.
My fingers ached with cold, the second body just as frigid, and still slick with fluids. I shuddered when he tumbled into the metal bin with a clang. After returning for the last man—one I’d come to hate more than I ever thought a person was capable of—I pulled him out into the frigid night. Glaring down at him, the blizzard raging around us, I carelessly hoisted him and the mat into the bin. But fuck the dude was heavy.
I pushed my good shoulder under his weight and heaved, finally tossing him over. Without wasting another second, I forced my exhausted body to go back for the bags. I threw them in and slammed the lid shut with a sigh of relief.
But it still wasn’t over.
