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“Let’s go,” I declare, seething from deep within.
We move toward the closest hangar. The doors are already open, and there’s a plane inside.
There are about a hundred of us here with all sorts of skills to end this once and for all. I’m not going to allow Diego to get away with what he’s done.
The instant we step inside the hangar, bullets start flying and men emerge from their hiding places.
Zakh and I take cover behind a stone pillar while Desmier does the same across from us.
We don’t get time to think before more bullets rain down around us. This is crazy, but we knew we were going into this blind, so we just have to conjure our natural battle skills.
“Look,” Zakh says, pointing ahead of me.
I look. When I see Diego standing on the balcony across from us with Jim Davison holding a gun to Gwen’s head, a crimson haze of rage surrounds my vision and unrelenting fury boils my blood.
Diego shoots at me, but he can’t get a clear shot from where he is.
I steal a moment to look at Jim. He’s looking at me, too.
My brain can’t comprehend this and won’t accept it’s real. But it is, and right now, I don’t have time for my brain to catch up.
They have Gwen, but really, they want me.
“That’s where I need to go,” I tell Zakh.
“I’ll cover you. We move on three.”
Zakh counts, and we run out. He shoots the guys in front of us, and I do the same behind.
He covers me until I reach the stairs, then we get separated while he deals with a bunch of guys who jump him.
I turn back to help him, but he waves me off.
“Go. I got this.”
Seeing he can handle himself when he takes down three guys, I keep going.
By the time I reach the balcony where Diego, Jim and Gwen were standing, I see them heading out the exit door at the end of the platform. I’m sure this is another trap. They want to lure me out to somewhere we can either fight or Diego can get a good shot at my head.
I follow, going through the exit which leads to another set of stairs that looks like it goes up to the roof.
I take that, too, and see I’m right.
As soon as I step onto the roof, a force that feels like a fifty-ton truck slams into me.
It’s Diego.
The force of him crashing into me sends us both to the ground, and we drop our guns.
He manages to land a fist in my face, but that’s all I allow. I do the same to him, knocking him back enough to get him off me.
“Don’t think I can’t take you, Malik Volkova.” He sounds like a wild animal caught in a snare.
“Come on, then, let’s see you try.”
He comes at me again, and I have to give him credit. He’s not exactly muscular, but he can fight. Fight dirty like they do in the streets where you don’t get any formal training. But I can do the same and more.
I batter him with my fists, and he still keeps coming. Until he can’t.
