I kicked the door open and stepped into the chaos, shooting down my enemies with practiced ease. When necessary, I fought with my hands, snapping necks and breaking bones like twigs.
Violence was just another Tuesday for me; I thrived in it and basked in the smell of chaos and disorder. The air reeked of gunpowder and smoke, which, in my opinion, was the best scent ever.
Whoever these men were that attacked me, they must’ve had no idea that I ate chaos for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
I stood outside the car, protecting the defenseless woman in the backseat.
A huge masked man rammed into me from the side and then tackled me to the ground. He threw four powerful punches to my face and ribs. I was quick enough to deflect the first three, but the last one struck my lower abdomen.
I groaned, my scowl deepening.
He drew a knife and struck hard, aiming for my eye. I seized his hand mid-air, wrestling against his strength. He struggled, pressing the knife inches closer to my eye.
I was trapped beneath this motherfucker, furious about how strong he was, when I heard her scream. Through the corner of my eye, I spotted another masked man pulling her out of the car.
She smacked him across the face in self-defense and then paused after noticing his swelling rage. Panic set in, and I saw the fear in her eyes.
Seething, he slapped her with the back of his hand and reached for his gun.
“No!” My blood boiled as I wrestled against my attacker’s brute strength.
“Does she mean something to you?” he strained, pressing down the knife toward my face. “Too bad you’re gonna watch her die.”
Even with the pointed edge of the blade inches from my left eye, Kiera’s safety was all I could think about. It infuriated me how defenseless she was right now. But what infuriated me more was my own inability to help.
She lay there on the ground amidst the chaos, watching her attacker aim his gun at her. Kiera closed her eyes, ready to accept her fate.
Bang!
Chapter 11 — Kiera
I flinched at the deafening sound of the gunshot that should’ve claimed my life. Something splashed across my face: thick, slimy, and warm. My heart was pounding in my chest as I froze on the ground, wondering why I was still breathing.
The ringing in my ear was loud, muffling the rapid sound of gunfire that filled the air. I wasn’t dead yet. But if the shot didn’t kill me, who took the bullet? That question had barely formed in my head when I heard a body drop like a log.
I opened my eyes to see my attacker lying face down in his own pool of blood. That same blood had splashed on my face seconds earlier. He lay motionless at my feet.
At a short distance, the one-eyed man stood gallantly, his pistol aimed at me. I didn’t need to be a genius to know he was the one who’d put a bullet in my attacker’s head.
My heart skipped a beat at Nial’s painful groan, and I turned toward him. He was on his back beneath a huge man, struggling as a knife was pressed against his face.
I was too shaken to do anything, and by then the one-eyed man had his hands full. His gun had clicked empty, and he was fighting three men at once. I never thought a day would come when I’d be so worried about my captor’s life.
He was in danger, and that scared the living daylights out of me. Especially because I was too weak to help. But just when I thought all hope was lost, the tables turned in Nial’s favor.
It wasn’t luck.
It was a strategic move, one he pulled so fast that I missed it. All I knew was that somehow, he got hold of the knife and jabbed it into his attacker’s neck. The blade punctured a major artery, and now there was blood everywhere. Lots of it.
The man rose to his feet, slowly staggering sideways like a drunk, until he fell to the ground. Dead.
My hand flew to my mouth as I watched his body jerk, blood squirting uncontrollably from his neck. It was like a gruesome scene from theSpartacusTV show: graphic and disturbing. Except this was fuckin’ real life.
A wave of nausea washed over me, and I almost puked in my mouth.
Fuck.
I knew there would be a shootout and bloodshed. But I didn’t think things were going to be so grotesque.
