Page 91 of Dark Soul

“Copy that. We’re on our way,” Griffin, Slate, and Rogue replied at the same time.

One.

Two.

Three.

He and Ash pulled their doors open at the exact same instant and rolled out through opposite doors. Dark’s boots had barely hit the ground when a shot rang out. A hole appeared in the center of Kvyat’s forehead and the large man dropped to the ground like a stone.

“Fuck!” somebody said in the earpiece.

Nikolai screamed, the sight of his father’s body seeming to rouse him from his stupor.

And then Alexia began running towards the boy. Still lurching, but moving faster now, as if she was also getting rid of whatever drug was coursing through her system.

No.

Because Dark knew then that Lemercier had been toying with Kvyat. He wasn’t planning on letting his son live, either.

And somebody else was running towards Nikolai as well—Dmitri.

Dark’s feet pounded on the snow. Lemercier looked up and saw him. The fixer’s gaze narrowed. He was still for a moment as he seemed to ponder this new complexity. Dark pushed on, knowing every second counted now. Because Lemercier was going to run.

Then the fixer gave a light shrug. But he didn’t run. Instead, he raised his gun, pointing it straight at Alexia.

And Dark realized he’d miscalculated. He should have paid more attention when Griffin was speaking. Lemercier wasn’t the kind to run.

Dark’s boots crunched on the snow as he pushed himself harder than ever before, already knowing he wasn’t going to make it.

Lemercier’s left eye closed as he aimed his weapon.

No!

Dark looked on—because he couldn’t afford not to look—even as his mind threatened to close down.

And then Ash was there, shoving his body between Alexia and the gun, pulling her to the ground, until Dark couldn’t see Alexia’s body anymore for the big man curled up around her.

Ash’s body tensed.

The shot rang out, instants before Dark slammed head-first into Lemercier.

“Putain,” Lemercier let out before the breath blew out of him with a soft oomph.

Dark saw red. Even before Lemercier landed—and Dark made sure Lemercier’s body hit the ground hard—he was already punching. He thought of what Lemercier had said about Alexia, and punched. Then again as he remembered the listless expression on her face. And again and again, until the man stopped moving and the throbbing in his knuckles became actual pain.

He was pretty sure he’d cracked a knuckle.

The man was completely still beneath him, and though Dark wanted to keep hitting, a voice in the back of his mind told him he had more important things to worry about.

Alexia.

Ash.

He got up unsteadily and ran towards them. Ash was still curled up around Alexia, and Dark knew he was anticipating a new burst of pain.

Anticipating it, but not fucking moving out of the way.

Tough asshole.