Just shifted his grip. Fired again with his off hand. Professional. Ambidextrous. Trained.
The second bullet punched through Viktor's thigh. He went down hard.
“Viktor!” I was moving before thought. Reaching him. Hands on his shoulder. Blood hot and wet between my fingers. Too much blood. “Stay down. Stay?—”
“Behind you!”
I spun.
But Marcel wasn't behind me. He was everywhere.
He moved like smoke. Like shadow given form. Faster than anyone that age should move. Faster than anyone human should move.
One second he was across the room. The next he was on me.
His fist caught my jaw. Precision strike. Stars exploded. My vision blurred.
I tried to bring my bow up. Too slow. He grabbed it. Twisted. The dark wood splintered in his hands like kindling.
Rage flooded through me. Hot. Blinding.
I lunged at him with my knife.
He caught my wrist mid-strike. Squeezed. Bones ground together. The knife clattered to the floor.
“You move well,” he said. Still calm. Still conversational. “Your mother taught you?”
I drove my knee toward his groin. He blocked. Swept my leg. I went down hard on my back. Air exploded from my lungs.
He was on me before I could recover. Knee on my chest. Gun to my temple.
“But not well enough.”
“Sebastian!” Viktor's voice. Raw. Desperate. He was trying to stand. Failing. Too much blood loss. “Let him go!”
“Or what?” Marcel didn't even look at him. Kept his eyes on me. Cold. Calculating. “You'll bleed to death trying to save him? Please. Be my guest.”
Movement from the corridor. Dom appeared. Rifle up. Face pale. Blood streaming from a gash on his forehead.
“Step away from him,” Dom ordered.
Marcel smiled. “How many bullets do you think you have left? How many of my men are still out there?” He pressed the gun harder against my temple. “Do the math, Mr. Hayes.”
An explosion rocked the building. The generator. Someone had sabotaged it.
Sparks rained from overhead fixtures. Fire crawled up walls. Electrical first, then catching curtains, spreading with terrifying speed.
Marcel laughed. “Try proving anything now.”
He pulled a data drive from his pocket. All the evidence. All the files. Everything we needed to convict him.
He tossed it into the flames.
I watched it melt. Watched eighteen years of hunting turn to slag and ash.
“No!” I lunged.
He yanked me back. Hard. My head snapped. Vision swam.
