My instincts take over, and I throw myself over the side of the bed, rolling under it just as the door creaks and swings wide.
Someone grunts and a body thuds to the floor.
Somehow, I stifle my scream.
The cabin shakes with gunfire in the living room. I crawl on my belly to retrieve the pistol on the night table. Based on the thuds and smacks of hand to hand combat, interspersed with gunfire from the front room, I think Charlie's here, silently fighting to protect me.
I try to turn on the lamp by the bed, but nothing happens-the electricity has been cut. I get up and run for the door, just as the glass shatters in the bedroom window, exploding with gunfire.
"Annabel?" Charlie shouts as I drop to the floor.
"One assailant, firing from outside." I'm amazed at how calm my report sounds.
Guns fire from the living room, and suddenly, Charlie's in the doorway, lit by a swath of moonlight from the window. "Stay low. Get behind the bed." I hear his soft footfalls and the crunch of glass as he runs to the wall beside the window and dodges out, gun leading. He fires twice, then drops the gun.
"Here." I slide mine across the floor to him, assuming he's out of bullets.
"Thanks." He picks it up and fires three more times. "There's at least two still out there. Three down."
I crawl toward the closet, remembering the duffel bag of weapons. When I open the door, Charlie joins me. "You take the semi-automatic. Give me two more pistols."
I yank them out with the magazines.
"Stay behind me." He moves through the cabin stealthily, and I follow behind, holding the weapon in both hands.
Gunshots ring out the moment he kicks open the door. He yanks me up against the wall between the door and window. I count the gunshots. Eight. Ten. Fourteen. Fifteen.
"Stay here." Charlie breaks through the door, a pistol in each hand, arms extended out straight in two directions. He fires four bullets.
One body drops.
"Cover me." Charlie disappears, running toward the dirt driveway where he parked the car we stole.
I don't really know how to do that, but I fire a round toward the trees in the direction away from where Charlie ran. God forbid I accidentally hit him.
Except wait-bullets apparently can't harm him unless they're between the eyes.
I hear fists smacking flesh, grunts, and strikes. I creep out of the cabin in their direction, swinging the gun right and left defensively.
Behind the vehicle, Charlie's fighting with Director Scape.
"Don't move," I shout.
Both men ignore me. Charlie slams Scape up against a tree trunk and smacks his head against the wood.
"I kept you alive for this," Charlie says and punches Scape in the gut.
"Oof." He doubles over. "For what?"
"For Annabel. So, you can tell her the truth. Go on." He pounds a right hook into Scape's jaw.
Director Scape spits blood from his mouth and laughs. "The truth? The truth is whatever I want it to be. I run the fucking CIA."
"Who killed my father?" I demand. It's not the question I thought I would ask, but it's the one that comes out.
Scape laughs. "I did. I killed your father when he disobeyed orders."
I shouldn't be holding this weapon. Because I am way too ready to use it. "What orders?" I grit between clenched teeth.
Charlie punches Scape again.
"He had orders to destroy the village. Restart the war. He didn't comply. I had to go in and clean it up for him."
"Who gave those orders? You?"
Scape gives another bloody smile. His hand flashes out before I realize I've stepped too close. He swings the butt of my weapon around to point at Charlie and squeezes the trigger.
Charlie grasps Scape's head and breaks his neck, even as blood spurts out his shoulder and side.
"Charlie!" I scream.
"I'm okay. I'm fine." He covers the wound in his side with his hand while he toes Scape's limp body as if to make sure he's really dead.
Apparently unconcerned with his bullet wounds, Charlie pulls his phone from his back pocket and hands it to me. The recorder is on-he got the whole confession.
"We've got it. You're free now."
CHARLIE
I TAKE Scape's phone and wallet and pocket them. I already searched the men inside the cabin. None of them carried IDs or phones. I need to find their vehicle.
I sniff the air. I'm getting better at identifying the different scents around me, and I don't detect any new humans. I've dealt with them all.
I check the body of the guy I shot in the trees. He's dead, no ID.
"Let's get you inside," I say carefully. Annabel hasn't moved, and I scent her fear and shock. I don't know if she will even let me in that cabin with her, but I have to at least make sure she's unharmed. The urge to care for her is overwhelming. Once I know she's safe, that she can safely return to her life and her family, I will leave. I need to get away from anyone I could hurt.
"Are-are they all dead?"
I smell only death. I nod. Even though the danger is over, my body is still tense. I'm wary of any further danger to my mate.
Mate? That's a strange word choice.
I find their vehicle a hundred yards up the dirt road. It has the IDs and phones of the other men. I take them all. When I get back to the cabin, I flip the breaker in the electrical box. The lamp in the bedroom flares to life.
Annabel still hasn't moved like she's afraid to go in alone.
I walk to her, reaching out cautiously. She tumbles forward into my arms.
"Charlie," she chokes.
"It's okay." I stroke her silky hair. "It's over now. Everything is over."
The scent of her blood from the wounds I inflicted stings my nose, making my chest collapse in on itself.
She sniffs, her tears wet against my neck. "Now what?"