My stomach’s one big knot. I want to scream.
Cole’s eyes flick to mine. They’re wide with fear as he whispers, “Stay here.”
“No way. I’m coming with you.”
“Damn it, Lexi.” He clenches his jaw and tightens his shoulders.
I motion him forward with my free hand. He turns and carefully hugs the hallway with his body. His gun is raised in front of him as he checks the spare bedroom across the hall. Nothing.
He checks the bathroom, but nothing’s there.
A loud clanging of metal echoes down the hall. I can think of nothing else that would make that noise except the lamp by the front door. I blink rapidly and mimic every move Cole makes, backing him up.
Footsteps. Pause. Whispers. More footsteps.
I put any other thoughts out of my mind as I focus on the sounds. I listen for how heavy or soft the foot placement is, the raising or lowering of the vocal tones of the whispers. I motion to Cole with two fingers, and I see it register in his eyes. He stops right before the living room. I can feel the tension rolling off him as the muscles in his neck tighten. Cole motions his move forward. I follow.
He rounds the corner.
Cole moves quickly. I follow him. Shouts, screams, and bullets zing through the air, hitting the ceiling and windows. I hear them cutting through the fabric of the couch, slicing through the wood on the floors, ricocheting off the refrigerator door.
Just around the corner, I engage a female guard. She’s small, fast, and she fires at me.
“Ahhhh!” The bullet burns as warm liquid trickles down my face.
I return fire, but she reaches for my arm. The bullet misses, going over her head.
She lunges at me with a knife. I jump back, stumbling over the wicker couch and flipping it onto its back. I land on my butt. She comes barreling over me with slashes and flashes of sharp steel. My gun skids away. I catch her hand with the tip of the knife poised above my chest. She’s too strong. I clench my jaw, trying to force the knife away. It touches right above my heart.
“Cole!” I scream with everything I have. The guard sneers at me, knowing full well I have no fight left. I’m drifting. I can feel the energy leaving me. I’m getting weaker. I’m going to die. I am going to die.
Gripping the woman’s hand, I clench my jaw and strain every muscle and tendon in my body, holding her back. I faintly hear Cole yelling in the background.
The guard’s eyes squint as she pushes the knife farther down. Her sweat’s dripping onto my face, and I know I can’t hold on much longer. My arms burn from straining. I’m losing it. The knife pierces me. I close my eyes. This is it. Then I hear a loud, dull thump. Blood trails from the top of the guard’s head, down and over my skin.
Her body goes rigid. Her eyes go blank, and her body relaxes as it shuts down. I feel her weight bearing down on me in its entirety. Her hands loosen on the knife, and it becomes lodged between our bodies.
I’m shaking as I kick her off the couch, rip the knife away from between us, and roll to my left. I’m barely able to catch my breath. A knife is lodged in the back of her head. Her blood gushes onto the floor, staining it in pools of crimson.
I scramble onto the floor, searching for my gun. Overturned furniture and blood-covered fluff from the cushions covers the wooden planks. The lampstand lies on its side surrounded by shattered glass. Where the hell did it go?
Cole struggles with a dark figure in the kitchen.
“Is that all you got? I’ve been waiting months to take you down, traitor. There’s a special place in hell for people like you. Protecting Sinners. Turning against your own,” the guard says with his hands wrapped around Cole’s neck. They smash into pots and pans on the counter while fighting for control.
“Nothing’s worse than covering your sorry ass. Or have you forgotten how I covered for you? You’ve always been pathetic,” Cole says.
“You’re gonna die, asshole. I already called Clayton. He’s gonna rain hell on you when he gets here.”
I can’t take it. I rip the knife out of the dead guard’s head. Then, with a grunt, I chuck it at Cole’s opposition, just as his back turns toward me. It clatters to the floor. I missed.
Both men jump at the weapon. I clench my fists, trying to think of my next move. But they’re wrestling on the ground, backed into a corner, and I don’t see how I can get there without getting in Cole’s way and jeopardizing his position. They wrangle for control, choking and throwing elbows. Cole stabs the guard in the chest. I hear his skin and muscles tear open when Cole drags the knife down his abdomen. I swallow the bile in my throat.
The man continues wrestling Cole, all the while gagging on his own blood. He spits it out between his teeth as he grabs for Cole. The kitchen floor fills with smears of red before the guard falters. Cole pushes him away, surveys the scene. Blood splatter covers Cole’s face and clothes.