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I make my way over to the door, taking my time, because in my current state it’s using more effort than I like to keep light on my feet and perfect my movements.
Not a great start to my grand escape. But, strangely, not the worst.
Once I reach the door, I flatten my back against it, and just listen.
My well-trained ear picks up on two sets of footsteps right beyond the door.
I know from the first time I came here a couple of months ago that it opens onto a staged living room evoking the lap of luxury, money and power.
Maroon baroque wallpaper covers the walls, emphasizing the whole noble, lord-of-the-manor ambience he’s trying to convey. Two gold-plated crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling. The sofas and matching chairs are made of polished brass, the upholstery gray velvet, beyond luxurious. If that isn’t enough, hand-crafted copper tables with black mirror tops are situated around the space, antiques, collectibles, and rare pieces from around the world displayed upon them. Basically, it’s an ostentatious display of wealth at its most ridiculous.
Beyond the living room, there’s a straight run of a wide corridor that leads all the way through the house and out through the main entrance.
Of course, that’s not going to be a possibility for me. I’ll have to take a circumventing back route if I’m going to make it out. His heaviest security is located at the forefront of the property, in the courtyard and at the wrought iron gates. The optimal point of escape would be the window in his office if it wasn’t secured with wrought-iron bars.
A lot of people think this is Matthew Priest’s actual residence. But it’s merely for show, a decoy. It’s where he conducts new business. He likes those he’s considering doing his dirty dealings with to feel like he’s welcoming them into his home in order to lull them into a false sense of security. There’s also the intimidation factor with the whole staged thing going on.
A brief glance at the door confirms what I thought with the way that arrogant ass has been with everything else—it’s not locked. He really didn’t expect me to get out of that chair.
Either that, or he needs to thin the heard a little and his soldiers stationed throughout the house are expendable. Nah, it’s just arrogance. The time for shedding some of the dead weight from his Gatekeepers army doesn’t come until his annual meeting a little ways away yet. Psychotic bastard.
All right. Focus. Focus.
Normally, I wouldn’t have to give myself a pep talk. I’m far from a naïve wannabe. I’m an established badass, an elite in my world. But that bastard has severely compromised me. Doesn’t mean I can’t come out on top. It’s just going to be a bitch of thing going into battle this time around, instead of the thrill ride it usually is. Yeah, thrill ride. Perhaps that’s twisted, but it’s who I am. I get off on the adrenaline rush, of dealing out punishment to those who are foolish enough to think they can go up against me and come out on top.
Sucking in a centering breath, I grasp the doorknob.
One.
Two.
Three.
I throw open the door and swiftly dart into the opening and between the two guards now standing either side of me. I sweep the leg of the guy to my left. He grunts as it destabilizes him and his knee hits the floor hard. Before he has a chance to react, I jab the letter opener into his throat, specifically his windpipe. He’s gurgling in the next second as I rip it out. He clutches his throat and collapses against the wall, frantically fighting to draw in a breath.
It becomes clear just how much my slowed state is going to impact me during this fight in the next second when the guy to my right manages to react before I do, snatching my arm and trying to drag me back inside the office.
Rookie move.
It gives me the opportunity I need to use his hold as leverage to jerk him into me. I grab his shoulder and shove it down, then bring my knee up, smashing it into his face. As he cries out and falls back, breaking his grip on my arm, I spin into him with a roundhouse kick that sends him reeling against the wall.
I don’t get the chance to finish it as a rush of footsteps catches my attention and I look to see three more Gatekeepers sprinting into the open-concept living room just feet from me. They’re decked out in classic Gatekeepers’ attire—gray pants and oversized hoodies that shield a good deal of their facial features. It’s a unform that allows them to blend in well with the masses in a public setting, while also making it hard to identify them. Having them decked out in heavy-duty tactical gear would make them incredibly conspicuous which isn’t conducive to the tasksthat Matthew Priest uses them to conduct on his behalf. I am aware that they do wear Kevlar vests beneath their hoodies though. It’s why I literally go for the throat when I’m pitted against one of them.
I spin the letter opener and pen in either hand as I pass under the archway off Matthew’s office area and enter the ridiculously fancy space.
The three soldiers fan out, blocking my way to the corridor beyond that leads to the entryway and the double entrance doors to the house.
“Back inside the office,” one of them calls out. “You won’t make it out of here anyway. There’s another dozen of us surrounding the perimeter. So, make it easy on yourself and stand down. Priest has authorized the use of excessive force to subdue you. Anything short of death or permanent damage. As you know, that’s a hell of a lot to work with.”
“Yeah, that won’t be happening.”
He sneers as I take another step forward and falter a little, a swirling dizziness threatening to get the best of me. “So be it, sweetheart.” He lifts his chin at the two guys flanking him and grunts, “After what she did to our guys, make it hurt.”
The three of them launch themselves at me then.
I hold my position until one of them is close enough. Then, as he hits, I turn into the impact and use his weight against him to toss him over my shoulder. As he lands hard with a thud on the marble floor, the second one lashes out. I deflect the blow, sweeping my arm down, then following through with my right hand, delivering a sharp uppercut to the underside of his jaw that has him staggering back. The third, talkative one launches into the fray then, and I catch the glint of a blade, just before he brings it down in a sweeping arc toward me, trying to slice open my arm. I snatch his wrist just before it makes contact, the jarring impact making me waver on my feet in my weakened state. He notices, smirking at me as he pushes against my hold, aware that I can’t resist it for long.
As the guy I sent staggering back a moment ago gets it together and starts toward us and I see the one I kneed in the face over by the office door doing the same, I know I need to make a sacrifice play here.
