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I lunge forward, colliding with the nearest thug. His breath whooshes out, and for a moment, we're locked in a deadly dance, his rage against my desperation.
My fist connects with flesh, and the thug stumbles back. "You won't get away with this," I growl, dodging a wild swing that whistles past my ear.
I pray Jasmine is safe but my focus narrows to the fight, each strike fueled by the thought of those kids, scared and alone in that dark truck. Their innocence is a flame, igniting my resolve.
"Back off!" one kidnapper snarls, his knife glinting ominously under the headlights from the truck.
"Not a chance," I retort, grabbing his wrist and twisting until the weapon clatters to the ground. Pain radiates up my arm from the impact, but I shove it aside. There's no room for weakness, not now.
Blood pumps in my ears. I dodge a wild swing, counter with a jab that's more instinct than skill. There's no room for grace in this dance, just the raw need to protect, to survive.
"Jasmine!" I shout, a warning and a plea as another brute barrels toward me, his eyes full of malice.
"Watch out!" Her voice cuts through the night like a lifeline. I pivot, catching sight of her just as she runs out from the bushes and tackles the man from behind. But I'm not fast enough to avoid the gleaming blade that aims for my throat.
"Down!" Jasmine screams, and I drop, feeling the whoosh of air as the knife narrowly misses its mark. My heart thunders, adrenaline surging as I scramble back to my feet.
"Thanks," I grunt, sparing her a quick glance filled with gratitude. She nods, her expression fierce, determined. We're in this together, now more than ever.
"Move, Dario! Left side!" Her command slices through my hesitation. I obey, trusting her implicitly.
"Coming at you!" I yell back as one of the kidnappers lunges for me. I sidestep and deliver a punishing blow to his gut. He doubles over, wheezing.
"Finish it!" Jasmine urges, her eyes on the other assailant charging towards us.
"Can't do this without you," I admit, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Together, we circle the remaining two thugs, poised and ready.
"Never without you," she replies fiercely, stepping closer.
I feint to the left, drawing my opponent's attention, giving Jasmine the opening she needs. She doesn't hesitate; her training kicks in, precise and deadly.
In one fluid motion, she disarms the man, using his own momentum against him as she finishes him off with one quick shot.
"Jasmine!" I call, as I wrap my hands around the last kidnapper's neck, squeezing tight. The struggle is brutal, a fight for survival. His body thrashes beneath my grip, but I don't let go. Not until he goes limp, not until the threat is gone.
"We did it," she whispers, her voice quivering with emotion. There's blood on her hands, on mine—evidence of the violence we've committed. Yet there's no guilt, only the stark realization that it was us or them.
"Is it over?" My voice is hoarse, strained.
"Over," she confirms, her eyes meeting mine. "We had to. For the kids."
"For the kids," I echo, feeling the weight of what we've done settle into my bones. We stand amidst the carnage, our breaths mingling, our hearts beating out a rhythm of life amidst death.
"Let's make sure they're safe," I say, the urgency returning. "Then we deal with the rest."
"Right behind you," Jasmine says, and I know she means it in every way possible. Our connection deepens with each shared glance, each unspoken vow. We have saved lives tonight, and in doing so, irrevocably bound our own together.
The metallic clink of the handcuff keys is a symphony of freedom. I'm on my knees, the cold metal biting through the fabric of my trousers, but I hardly notice.
My hands are steady as they work to unlock the restraints that bind small wrists. Jasmine's beside me, her nimble fingers sliding blindfolds off wide, terrified eyes. The children blink against the harsh overhead lights, staring at us like they're afraid of us.
I feel angry when I notice how scared they look. No child deserves to feel this petrified.
"Hey, it's okay now," I murmur, my voice soft but firm. "You're safe."
"Who... who are you?" A small boy's voice trembles with confusion and fear.
"Friends," Jasmine answers before I can. Her hand strokes a little girl's hair back from her face, a gesture so tender it tightens something in my chest.
