Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I don't even know him, or Bull, really, other than that I know he likes his news on the big screen, but they're members of the Screaming Eagles. Scrapper, Reaper and Mack see them as brothers. I don't even want to imagine them dying because of me.
“I've made such a mess of this.” I didn't mean to say it out loud, but it just kind of falls out.
“If I gotta take you over my knee for a spanking for saying stupid shit, I'm gonna do it once we're outta here, just so that's clear,” Scrapper hisses. “We chose this, not you. Now shut up.”
From back here, I have no idea how many of them there are, but it sounds like a bunch. With only Scrapper and Bull here, I can't imagine we have much of a chance, but maybe the cavalry isn't that far away. I wish someone would send me a message or something. I hope there's a good reason, and not that no one's seen our stream.
“Stay real fucking quiet,” Scrapper whispers. “I'm gonna distract them.”
And then he's gone around the cubicle wall, leaving the three of us feeling really exposed.
I hold my breath and strain my ears. Guns are going off around the building. Does that mean our backup is here? Or are they going around executing people in the building? God, I hope not. But none of them are right here, at least not right now.
There's a dull thud, a quiet grunt, and then silence again. Probably Scrapper at work? I imagine that if one of them found one of us, there'd be a lot more noise. It's a game of cat and mouse in the cubicle maze, but they're not being that quiet, firing off calls to each other regularly to track each other's locations. They have the confidence of numbers.
“Carl? Sound off, man.” One of the voices suddenly sounds worried. “Carl!”
I hope that's the guy Scrapper knocked out.
“Around the corner. Two of you, guns up.” The same voice again, obviously the leader of the group. “Hector.”
“Here.” The voice is over by Bull and Mad Dog. Then a sudden scream. “Found one!”
One of the crew, but I don't know them. God, if people die because of me and I don't even know who they are, how horrible is that? Already the way he's blubbering for them not to kill him is tearing at my heart.
“Axe him. No witnesses.”
“Got it, bo—”
A gunshot cuts him off, followed by a thump and a scream.
Bull? Maybe?
“Motherfucker. Find him and kill him. Start knocking over the cubicle walls. We're not here to play fucking games.” His order's followed by the rattle of a wall getting kicked down.
Almost immediately, someone cries out, “Please don't kill me! Please! I'm only doing my job. I don't know anything, I won't say anything. I haven't seen anything. I swear.” It's followed by a desperate sob. I can't take this anymore.
I stand up.
“Mila!” snap Faith and Ella at the same time.
“I'm here. I'm the one you're after. You don't have to hurt them.”
The team's leader is a big man with a square jaw and full tactical gear. Tha gun he's carrying looks like it could be used to gun down a tank. There are five guys around him, plus several more spread around the room, still in the process of knocking down the walls. He grins viciously when he sees me. “So noble. Unfortunately for you, part of my pay includes not leaving any witnesses. So while I appreciate you making my job easy, you didn't win much, baby girl. We’re here to fuck things up, not to find whoever the fuck you are.” He raises his rifle and aims it at me.
“No, you can't—”
There's a loud bang and I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, sure that this is the end.
Except I don't fall. Nothing hits me or throws me back. My brain still seems to be intact inside my skull.
So I look again, just in time to match gazes with the team leader's vacant eyes. He's staring at nothing, but there's a thick trickle of dark red blood seeping down his forehead. I can't be more than a moment, but it feels like forever before he crumples to the floor, revealing Reaper with a smoking gun, and Mack right behind him, looking furious in a way I've never seen him. He's the calm one, the reasonable one of the three. The social worker, for Christ's sake. But that's a killing face. My big teddy bear just turned into a grizzly.
I think the guys that supported the team leader just figured it out too, as they lift their weapons. Too slowly, though. Much too slowly. Mack charges into them with a roar, spreading his arms wide and bowling four of them over at once, throwing them all into a pile of furious limbs that's obscured by the cubicle walls. “Mack!” I scream and before Faith and Ella can stop me, I'm running forwards.