Page 24 of What Remains

Inside, light strips buzz and doors line the hallway. An unmasked patrol appears at the bend. His pace is slow, and like Todd, he’ll know I don’t belong here. I have a running list of shit I’ve seen him do that warrants his death, and if there’s ever a time . . .

“Jezebel sent for both of us,” Zoey wastes no time in telling him.

I step up next to her, catching him slanting his eyes over Zoey’s white shirt. “Forget your jacket?” he asks, and I take the opportunity to move.

It’s been a long time since I’ve stabbed—or beaten—someone to death. But I force away both my soul and what’s left of my humanity to brutally kill him.

We strip him of his Glock and rifle. She takes the M4, and my hand flexes around the grip of the 9mm as we press on.

The next corridor narrows. Footsteps bounce from the stairwell to our left. From the sounds of it, two sets are heading toward us. We flatten our backs to the wall on each side of the stair entrance and wait, every hair on my arms standing.

The guards spill out together, and we move like one body. I take the first, and Zoey deals with the second. My world reduces to the grind of boots and CQB as my forearm slams into my target’s throat. The cartilage gives out as I tuck the Glock under his vest and fire two rounds. It bucks twice in my hand. The suppressed pistol barks sharp and violent, the shots snapping to my unprotected ears like a firecracker.

As soon as Zoey’s mark is down, I blink hard, forcing past the shrill ringing in my ears to move again.

Hall after hall, we flow deeper into the belly of the building in a rhythm that’s obscene and natural all at once: lead, stack, cover—only it’s the two of us instead of the typical three for this pattern.

The bodies add up, and my pulse continues to drum in my ears like a countdown.

Please still be here. Be okay.

Zoey abruptly halts and raises a fist, and I turn to the side to watch our sixes as she checks the next turn.

“We’re here,” she whispers. “Three doors down. Two were posted outside her room when I left. Only one now, but that means she should still be in there.” My hand goes for my piece as Zoey’s breath hits my ear again. “Soundproof rooms in this hall. Take the shot.”

I step around her, line up the red dot sight, and fire two headshots. The shots register more as a vibration than noise, my brain refusing to process how loud they are. When the guard hits the tile and quivers, we rush to the room.

Zoey enters her code, then sets her thumb to the scanner.

“Cover the hall,” I say as the lock releases and the door cracks open.

My world instantly pauses at the sight before me. I’m stuck in place, and inside one of those nightmares where you can’t get to someone you’re trying to save.

Gwen’s pinned to the wall, and from what I can tell, she’s naked.

Jezebel is nowhere in sight. But there’s a lowlife bastard fumbling with his belt. He realizes he’s no longer alone, as something inside me detonates.

I unfreeze and move, setting my gun on the table as I rush over to her in two quick strides.

No warnings. Not shots. Too risky with her trapped behind his frame.

I step next to him, snapping hold of his wrist that’s squeezing Gwen’s throat.

When he spins around to deal with me, I drive my knee into the tendons of his leg. The bone strike is precise, and he buckles. I sweep him down, the floor greeting him hard, and climb on top of him.

From the corner of my eye, I spot Gwen going down. She bends her knees to her chest, hiding her body. Her hands must be bound behind her back, because I can’t see them. Just wide, terrified eyes.

I take a hit to the face, and my hat flies off at the quick movement. While pinning my forearm across the son of a bitch’s windpipe, I snatch the knife and press the blade tight to his throat without cutting him.

Through the open slits of his mask, his eyes thin in terror. I should question him about Jezebel, but I can’t think straight. All I want to do is take my time killing him.

But Gwen’s safety is more important than revenge. So, I only give myself five seconds. Five seconds to slowly drag the knife across his flesh.

One.

He jerks around.

Two.