Page 161 of Barinov

A few more rounds of batting practice and they both fold. The air punches out their lungs as they crash to the forest floor. I grab DeShawn by the shirt, rearing my fist back to shatter his jaw.

I’m stopped by a flare shooting up in the sky. It bathes the clearing in a red glow.

DeShawn burts out laughing. Chase joins in, a wheezing sound from the dirt. They both rip their masks off and grin like the psychos they are.

“Damn,” Chase huffs, clutching his ribs. “Not bad, Lex. Almost had us.”

I release my death-grip on DeShawn’s collar and offer him a hand to help him up.

He claps me on the shoulder. “You hesitated when you lost that grip. That shit’ll get you killed in Rome.”

I nod.

He leans down, picks up the bat, and slaps it into my palm. “Keep it. You’re gonna want the extra reach for what’s coming up next.”

♥♥♥

I brace myself against a tree before stepping out into the next clearing. No matter how hard I try suck in a breath and relax, it won’t even out.

The red glow of the flare hovers over three blurry men in what look like gas masks. The one on the right looks like he could be Cade. But I know he’s with Sabine, so it has to be Callum. Khoza’s on the left. I’d recognize his massive frame anywhere. And the red-headed brute holding a—I blink, shaking my head to focus.

Shit.

O’Malley’s standing in the middle holding a fucking grenade. He yanks the pin and hurls it at me. I brace for impact when it lands at my feet.

But it doesn’t explode.

Instead, a yellow gas hisses out of the damn thing and burns the shit out of my eyes. I fall to my knees, dropping the bat in the process. It bounces off the dirt and rolls a few feet away. My hands wrap around my throat as the smoke sears my lungs.

“Lex,” Khoza’s baritone cuts through the haze. “The only way to the next flare is through the smoke.”

“Through us,” Cal adds, laughing like a jackass. “Good luck.”

Another canister lands somewhere to my left, doubling the thickness of the fog until I can’t see more than a few feet in front of me.

I drag in a breath and regret it instantly.

“Shit,” I say, fumbling for the bat and forcing myself forward into the fog.

Shapes move in the smoke. I catch one too late and fist cracks against my jaw. The force sends my head snapping to the side. I swing blindly and thankfully, the bat connects with something solid enough to earn a grunt from a voice I recognize.

“Nice try, Cal,” I cough.

A stronger fist that has to be Khoza’s, drives into my ribs and knocks what little air I’ve got left out of me. I stumble back, wheezing again. I nearly get my footing when he slams his knuckles into my temple.

“Fuck!” I scream. My vision swims as the hits mix with the smoke and whatever shit they jammed into my vein.

“Bloody hell,” O’Malley laughs, the sound muffled by his mask. He pulls another pin and drops it at my feet. “You gonna let ‘em beat up on you like that?”

“How many?” I cough, fingers clawing at my throat. “How many of those do you have?” The bat crashes down onto the toe of my boot as more yellow washes over me.

Focus, Barinov.

Fucking focus.

A shadow rushes at me from the right. I pivot into it, my shoulder slamming forward as I grab onto fabric and yank hard.

“Shit,” Cal grunts as we go down together.