Chapter 279

ALEXANDER

Another one of the attackers peeled away from the others, moving toward my position with his rifle raised, scanning methodically.

I waited until he stepped past my cover.

Then I moved.

Fast.

His head snapped toward me, surprise flashing across his face as he raised his weapon.

"Nice day for a walk," I said quietly, voice calm.

"Shame you chose the wrong direction."

I closed the distance before he could react, disarmed him in one fluid movement, and struck the knife with practiced efficiency.

His body crumpled without a sound.

I caught him before he hit the ground, lowering him carefully into the shadows.

No shouting.

No gunfire.

No alarm.

Exactly how I wanted it.

The kids thought guns were cool, I thought bitterly as I wiped the blade clean.

But knives? Apparently not cinematic enough. Little shits. . I'll have to work on my marketing and show them later how effective a good blade can be.

I shook my head, a dark, humorless smile tugging at my lips despite the situation.

Focus, Alexander.

Save the comedy routine for when your wife and children aren't in the line of fire.

I relieved him of his radio, checked the remaining ammunition on his belt, and melted back into cover.

Another one down.

Eleven.....

At least to go.

I slipped back into the tree line, letting the darkness swallow me whole. The pair ahead moved cautiously, rifles sweeping side to side, boots crunching over fallen branches with just enough noise to tell me exactly where they'd be in three seconds.

The first one never knew I was there. One moment he was scanning the trees, and the next my arm was locked around his throat, dragging him backward into the shadows before he could manage so much as a startled grunt.

My dagger slid beneath his ribcage in one clean, practiced thrust. His body stiffened, a shaky breath escaped him, and then nothing. I eased him down almost respectfully — dead men were surprisingly heavy, and honestly, very inconsiderate of them.

"One."

His partner frowned, having heard just enough to know something wasn't right. He turned — wrong decision. I was already moving, the second blade sliding from my ankle sheath into my hand as I closed the distance.

His eyes went wide, his mouth opened, but he was too slow to get any sound out before the knife buried itself in the side of his neck. His scream died before it became one.

He staggered backward with both hands flying to the hilt, trying to yank it free, which never worked, no matter how many times people tried it. I stepped closer and gave the handle a slow twist. Cartilage crunched, blood sprayed across his collar, and his knees gave out beneath him.

"Well. That's unfortunate."

His body collapsed beside his friend. I crouched, wiped the blade clean on his very expensive tactical jacket, and let out a small sigh. They charged extra for gear like that. Shame to ruin it.

"Two."

I listened. Nothing at first, and then voices drifted through the trees — several of them, moving my way. I melted back into the shadows just as four more men emerged between the trunks. One of them stopped abruptly, glaring around the clearing.

"Where the fuck did those two disappear?" he snapped, grabbing the radio clipped to his vest.

"Randy. Olden. Mathews. Answer your damn walkies, you useless bastards."

Static. Nothing else.

I smiled to myself. Reception could be terrible around dead people.

I tightened my grip on the dagger, knuckles white, listening to every word like it was fuel for the fire already burning in my chest.

The shortest of the group adjusted his glasses, scanning the woods with his rifle raised, hands trembling just enough for me to notice.

“Boss?” he asked, voice shaky.

“What now.”

The one apparently in charge didn’t look concerned in the slightest.

“Forget them. We’ve got a job to finish. No needless shooting, keep it clean.” He glanced toward the orphanage.

“Find the woman. That’s what we’re being paid for.” His expression hardened. “No mistakes.”

One of the others hesitated before asking, “

"And the kids?”

The boss didn’t even blink. His mouth curled into the kind of smile that belonged on a psychopath.

“Obviously we’re not going to sing them a fucking lullaby and tuck them into bed.” A couple of the others chuckled.

“If they get in the way, shoot them.” He shrugged like he was discussing the weather.

“Kids are nothing. They’re all the same — disposable. No different than bugs under your boot.”

The rage that hit me was pure, white-hot, and completely unfiltered.

Oh, you stupid, stupid fucks.

You talk about kids like they’re nothing? Like they’re bugs?

I’ll make you feel like one before I’m done with you.

I slipped out from behind the tree, silent as death, and came up behind the shortest one.

He never saw me coming.

I wrapped an arm around his throat to silence him and drove the dagger up under his ribcage. He jerked once, then went limp. I lowered him quietly to the ground.

The boss turned at the noise, eyes widening.

I snatched the rifle from his hands before he could react, then slammed the stock into his face.

He staggered back, blood spraying from his nose, but the bastard was good.

He recovered fast, kicking me hard in the stomach.

I staggered back, the air knocked out of me for a second.

Nice shot.

I grinned through the pain.

“You’re better than the others,” I said, voice calm.

“Too bad it won’t save you.”

I closed the distance again, elbow coming up around his throat, cutting off his oxygen.

He struggled, clawing at my arm, but I held firm.

“Should’ve kept your mouth shut about my wife,” I whispered in his ear as he started to go limp.

“And the kids.”

I was in the middle of snapping a guy’s neck when I heard footsteps behind me —

Instinct took over.

I spun, already bringing my knife around—

THWACK.

Stars exploded across my vision.

“Motherf—”

The world tilted sideways.

For one deeply concerning second, I was fairly certain I'd just met my ancestors.

I staggered a few steps, clutching the side of my head.

“…Fuck.”

Pain bloomed behind my ear, hot enough to make my eye twitch.

I blinked the blur out of my vision.

Alina stood there, gripping a fucking baseball bat with both hands.

She smiled sheepishly.

“Oops?”

I stared at her.

She pointed past me.

“I was aiming for him.”

I slowly turned.

The man I'd been strangling was still standing there, looking just as confused as I felt.

He blinked.

I blinked.

Then, deciding fate had already given him far too many chances, he lunged at me.

My hand shot out on instinct.

Crack.

His neck twisted at an angle nature had never intended, and he collapsed in a heap.

I grabbed her wrist and pulled her behind the nearest stone wall just as bullets tore through the air where we'd been standing.

“What the fuck, Alina?” I hissed.

“What part of ‘stay down’ translated in your head to ‘smack your husband with sporting equipment’?”

“I was helping!”

“You nearly killed me!”

“I nearly killed him!”

“You missed!”

“By inches!”

“Important inches!”

She folded her arms.

“Well, excuse me for trying to save your life.”

“You weren’t saving my life!”

“I absolutely was!”

“You attacked the wrong person!”

“You moved!”

“I was busy murdering someone when I heard someone behind me… obviously I fucking moved.”

“Well, that’s hardly my fault!”

I stared at her, my head still throbbing as blood trickled down the side of my face.

Somehow—despite the gunfire, the screaming, and the complete insanity unfolding around us—a reluctant laugh bubbled up in my chest.

“You're going to be the death of me,”

I muttered, wiping the blood from my temple.

“And not in the fun way. I think you actually gave me brain damage.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“You already had that.”

I sighed.

“…That was unnecessarily accurate.”

A smug little smile spread across her face.

“I know.”

I rubbed the rapidly growing lump behind my ear and winced.

“I cannot believe I survived a dozen armed mercenaries today only to get my skull caved in by my own fucking wife wielding children's sports equipment.”

“It was all I could find,” she replied without an ounce of shame.

I blinked at her.

“…That somehow makes me feel worse.”

She reached up, gently brushing another streak of blood from my temple with her thumb.

“Oh…”

Her eyes widened.

“I hit you harder than I thought.”

“You think?”

“I did say 'oops.'”

“Yes,” I deadpanned.

“Because medical science has clearly established that blunt-force trauma is immediately cured by saying fucking 'oops.'”

She bit back a smile before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to my cheek.

“Better?”

I hated that it actually was.

“…Annoyingly yes.”

“Good.”

She gave me another quick peck before pointing toward the orphanage.

“Now enough chit chat. We've got kids to save.”

“We?”

“Yes, we.”

I stared at her.

“No.”

“No?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

She frowned.

“Alexander—”

“No.”

“I can help.”

“You already did.”

“I have!”

“Yes.” I pointed at the swelling on the side of my head.

“The enemy now thinks there's someone else out here trying to assassinate me.”

“That was one time.”

“It was five seconds ago.”

She reached for the bat again.

I sighed, took it from her, and lifted it well above my head.

“Oh, absolutely not.”

“Alexander.”

“No.”

“Give it back.”

“No.”

“I mean it.”

“So do I.”

She jumped, trying to snatch it from me.

I simply raised it higher.

She glared.

“I hate how tall you are.”

“And I love how short you are. Makes confiscating dangerous objects remarkably easy.”

“I wasn't being dangerous.”

“You literally assaulted your husband.”

“I was trying to assault the enemy, you just happened to get in the way.”

“Not helping your case.”

Another burst of gunfire cracked through the air, snapping us both back to reality.

The laughter vanished as quickly as it had come.

I caught her hand and gave it one firm squeeze before my expression hardened.

“Stay behind cover. I mean it..”

She had the decency to look embarrassed.

“…okay.”

I leaned down and kissed her forehead.

“Stay alive.”

“You too.”

“I intend to.”

I took two steps away, then stopped and looked back at her.

“And, Alina…”

“What?”

“No helping.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I heard you the first seven times.”

“I don't think you did.”

“I did.”

“You're making that face.”

“What face?”

“The one that says you're about to ignore every single thing I just said.”

“I don't have a face like that.”

“You absolutely have a face like that.”

She looked away far too innocently.

“…Maybe a little.”

I pointed a warning finger at her.

“If I come back and find you chasing armed mercenaries with a frying pan, I swear to God…”

She grinned.

“I already lost the frying pan.”

I closed my eyes.

“Of course you did.”

“So… baseball bat?”

“No.”

“Kitchen knife?”

“No.”

“Really pointy spoon?”

“Alina.”

She sighed dramatically.

“Fine.”

“You promise?”

She crossed two fingers behind her back so badly that I could see them from where I was standing.

“I promise.”

“…You're crossing your fingers.”

She quickly hid her hand behind her back.

“…No, I'm not.”

“You're an awful liar.”

“I know.”

“Stay put.”

“I'll try.”

It wasn't the answer I wanted.

Unfortunately, it was the most honest one she'd given me all day.

“Fine,” I muttered.

“Just… don't make me choose between saving the children and rescuing my suicidal wife.”

Her smile softened.

Then I disappeared back into the chaos.

For one ridiculous moment, in the middle of bullets, blood, and bodies, it had almost felt like we were just arguing in our fucking kitchen.