Page 188 of Nothing Special X: The Last Stand

Xander had never seen men who radiated that level of danger, not even in the movies.

The bearded man reached into his coat and drew a large all-black handgun fitted with a silencer. He fired once.

The round punched into one of the kidnapper’s thighs. He screamed, dropped to the floor and tried to scramble behind a pile of rubbish, but before he could make it, two more bullets hit him center mass.

A pool of crimson spread beneath him, dark and glossy across the concrete.

Two others burst from around the corner, weapons blazing. The man in black lifted one side of his coat like a shield—bullets sparked and ricocheted of the fabric , never slowing his strides.

From the shadows, the man who’d snapped the first captor’s neck emerged with two more figures in low hoods, wearing dark brown rather than black. They fanned out and gunfire erupted from every direction.

A captor took three rounds to the chest and slammed into a support beam, sliding down it in a smear of red.

Another tried to run and caught a bullet dead center of his throat. He gurgled, clawing at crushed cartilage before collapsing.

Xander thought he’d throw up. He should’ve looked away like Tech suggested.

Another man, the one aching to avenge his brother, was shot through the knee. He dropped his weapon and received a second bullet through the eye that painted the wall behind him.

Xander pressed his bound hands over his ears, heart hammering.

The last captor staggered out from behind cover, hands raised high. “I surrender! No weapon! I’m unarmed.”

Oh no. Xander was breathing so hard, he was dizzy.

“This wasn’t my plan. I’ll leave town tonight. You’ll never see me again. I didn’t—”

The dark man kept walking, his partner flanking wide.

The white-clad man still in front of them growled a single word, “Meridian.”

He didn’t slow.

His partner circled behind the surrendering man, aimed low and fired two silent pops, one behind each knee. The man dropped to the floor, still pleading for his life around his gut-curdling howls.

The dark killer—the man in white had called Meridian—drew a long, slim sword from inside the lining of his trench. He gripped the kidnapper’s hair, yanked his head back until vertebrae popped. He opened his mouth wide in an ear-splitting scream as the man in black slid the blade slowly down his open throat.

Xander clamped his mouth tight, his stomach convulsing.

The sword vanished inch by inch until only the handle remained. The captor’s eyes bulged, gagging, still alive. Meridian held him there, as if he was relishing the agony, the savagery, before he ripped the sword free in one barbaric motion.

Blood sprayed in a red arc before the body slumped sideways with its head almost split in two.

Meridian turned without a word and walked through the ruined doors, partner at his side.

The man in white fumbled at Xander’s bindings, and it took him a minute to realize he was blind. Terror and fascination warred inside him. Despite how fiercely he’d fought with that makeshift cane-weapon, he helped him up with gentle hands.

“Are you all right?” His voice was just as soothing.

Xander didn’t know how he felt.

Free, Tech, and Curtis were untied by the men in brown, shaking out their arms as they got to their feet.

“Holy shit,” Curtis laughed. “Best vacation ever.”

Free raced across the warehouse, ignoring all the death, and grabbed his messenger bag from the back office where the leader of their abduction lay slumped lifeless over the desk.

Free returned with a massive grin, kissing his tablet as if he’d recovered his child.