Nothing.
And then, as I’m really beginning to lose my shit, I try to open a door and it won’t budge. I throw my weight against it, and still it remains firmly closed. It’s not locked, though. I can feel a little give before it jams, which means it’s probably been blocked with something.
“Natalia?” I holler as loud as I can.
A muffled cry comes from the other side of the door. There’s a scraping sound, and then the door opens. She’s there, in that beautiful green dress, though it’s ripped now, and she’s tied her hair back into a ponytail, out of the way. A dark smudge of soot marks her cheek. She looks wild and panicked. She rushes me, throwing her arms around my neck. “I thought they’d killed you,” she sobs. “I thought my father found you or something. I didn’t know where you were.”
“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m right here.” She feels so small in my arms. So vulnerable. She would have found her way out if I hadn’t come for her, I’m sure of it, she’s capable of fending for herself, but damn. Knowing that I have her in my arms is the sweetest fucking relief. I kiss her temple, pressing my lips against her skin, and then I set her down. “Come on. There’s no time.” I sound like my sister, but it’s the truth. Somehow, the fire is contained upstairs right now, but it won’t be forever. And once the ceilings start to collapse…
I take her by the hand, dragging her out of the room.
“I thought I’d find you two together.”
Ahead, hidden by the smoke, a figure stands, blocking the hallway. He’s taller than Fernando. Broader than him, too.
Harrison.
He stalks forward, and the first thing I notice is the gun in his hand, which is pointed directly at my head.
“You’re a piece of work,” he snarls. “I knew you were full of shit. I fucking knew it.”
I step in front of Natalia, holding up my own gun. “Get out of the way, Harrison.”
“What the fuck, man? You seriously think asking me to move is gonna do the trick?”
“Actually, no.” I lunge forward, ducking as I grab for his gun. Maybe he thought there’d be further preamble to this fight, but I’m not one to hang around. He seems surprised that I’ve just flown at him. He reacts quickly, but I’ve already got hold of his wrist, and I’m forcing his arm upward, so the gun is aimed at the ceiling.
Harrison lashes out with his free hand, striking me in the throat. For all the shit I’ve given him about being hired help instead of military, the bastard knows how to hit. It feels like my windpipe has been crushed. Pain blinds me for a second, but that’s all it is…a second. I don’t release his wrist. He’s expecting me to back off, to let him go so I can recover myself, but this isn’t my first time at the rodeo. I’ve had practice at this, and I’m pretty fucking good at it.
I headbutt him, smashing my forehead against the bridge of his nose—the strongest part of my head against the most sensitive part of his. I know I’ve broken bone when he yells out. He grits his teeth together, but he doesn’t release his gun, either.
Natalia’s somewhere behind us. I clench my hand into a fist, driving it into Harrison’s ribs as hard as I can, trying to move him out of the way. I’m successful. He staggers to the right, his body slamming into the wall.
“Natalia, go! Wait outside for me!” I shout.
She hesitates, but not for long. She runs past me, and then she’s enveloped in the thick gray-white smoke, vanishing like an apparition.
“You think he’s going to let her live after this?” Harrison spits. “He’s gonna fucking destroy her. He’ll take whatever he wants from her. He’ll make her beg for his forgiveness, then he’ll dump her body off the closest cliff face. Not even the wolves will be allowed to have her after he’s finished with her.”
Harrison is right. Fernando’s such a selfish guy; he probably would rather Natalia was dashed to pieces on the rocks rather than hand her over, even to his pets.
“You did this to her,” Harrison says. “When he’s done punishing her, and there’s nothing left of her, you’ll know that it was all your fault. You should have listened to him. You should have done as you were told!”
Such bullshit. I grab hold of him by the hair, yanking his head back so I can smash his face into the wall. The impact is so satisfying. The plaster crumbles, small cracks appearing like a spider web in the paintwork. Harrison sags a little, but it’s only a moment before he’s back up and swinging. I’m so fucking dizzy, my head swimming from the smoke inhalation, that my response time is delayed. He clips me on the jaw, and lights dance in my eyes. Again, he hits me—the stomach this time—and I double over, trying to recover myself. Oxygen is already thin on the ground right now. I don’t need a slug to the gut to make breathing even harder.