Page 96 of Barinov

No answer. Just static and more screaming.

“MOVE!” Nate’s voice shouts over the comms. “Fall back to exit route Delta. Get as many girls as you can, but get the hell out of there!”

“Not yet,” I growl, my eyes locked on the stage and the small corridor that leads back to where the rest of the girls are. “Anthony,” I say to Callie’s brother. “Get your sister out of here.”

“NO!” Callie screams, her auburn hair getting in her face as she jerks upright. She wipes a stray strand out of her eye. “We can’t just leave her.”

“Callie!” I yell, my eyes narrowing on her as I grab her by the wrist. “I will get your sister back. I promise.”

“What about Leith?” she cries.

BANG.

BANG.

I duck and shoot back at another guard. He drops. “I’ll find him.”

Anthony steps up behind the bar and yanks her out of my grip. “Let’s go, Callie,” he grits while anxiously dragging her to the exit.

I bolt for the stage, weaving through tables and suits.

“Right behind you,” Mac calls out, running up from the left.

I hear a grunt through the comms. I look over right as Khoza snaps the guard’s neck, sending a deafening crack echoing through my ears.

“Jesus,” I mutter.

“One more down,” Khoza says calmly, dropping the man’s limp body to the floor. “You get the girls, I’ll take care of things out here.”

I nod.

Mac and I run backstage and turn a tight corner just as a guard charges at us. Mac cold clocks him in the nose, spraying blood instantly. Then he grabs the guy by the back of the head and pounds his face into the concrete wall, shattering his skull.

“Get down!” Mac yells, shooting over my shoulder, the bullet nearly grazing me.

Another guard collapses as a redhead in a yellow dress slams into me in a blur of silk and terror.

“No, please!” she screams, mascara running down her cheeks.

I grab her by the shoulders. “There’s a man outside. He’s tall, bald, and built like a tank. His name is Khoza. Start yelling for him the second you get outside, you understand?”

She nods frantically.

“Say it.”

“K-k-kho,” she tries, wet eyes darting between me and the blood pooling under the guard who’s skull Mac just caved in.

“Khoza,” I confirm.

“Khoza,” she echoes.

I nod. “Now go!”

We keep moving, Mac and I sweeping room after room, barking orders at every terrified girl we pass.

“Outside. Now. Look for Khoza.”

A dead guy in a suit blocks the next doorway, bullet hole clean through his temple. Brain matter sprayed across the wall like modern art.