Chapter 237: A Brutal Fight To Survive

Victor Salazar stood in the entrance of my office.

"We burn together," Victor slurred.

Sebastian did not flinch. He pushed me backward. He forced me behind the massive bulk of the splintered oak desk. He put his own body between the rifle barrel and my face. He kept his handgun raised, pointing the muzzle at Victor’s chest.

"You burn alone," Sebastian stated. His voice sounded like grinding stones.

Victor laughed. The sound resembled a choking rattle. He took a step into the room. His left leg dragged across the debris. He left a smear of dark blood on the gray dust.

Four hired men appeared in the ruined doorway behind him. They wore heavy Kevlar vests. They raised their weapons, aiming past Victor’s shoulders.

Victor held up his left hand.

"No," Victor commanded the men. The effort of speaking caused his facial muscles to spasm. "He is mine. You watch the hall."

The men lowered their rifles. They stepped backward into the shadows of the corridor. They followed the final orders of a bankrupt employer. They wanted to watch the execution.

Victor turned his dead eyes back to Sebastian.

"You took my money," Victor hissed. "You took my men. You took my freedom."

He shifted his gaze. He looked past Sebastian. He found me crouching in the dark. My fingers dug into the cold metal of the tactical flashlight. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, painful rhythm.

"And you," Victor spat. He aimed his venom at me. "You froze my offshore accounts. You starved my payroll. You thought you could erase me. You paid the judge. You burned the paper."

"The paper is ash," Victor acknowledged. He took another halting step forward. The rifle barrel swayed in his weakened grip. "But the truth remains. I will kill him. I will shoot him in the stomach. I will let you watch him choke on his own blood on your expensive rug."

He limped closer. The smell of copper and stale sweat rolled off his body, masking the scent of the rain.

"Then," Victor continued, his eyes wide and feverish, "I will take you. I will drag you out of this building. I will make you watch your company collapse. I will strip you of every asset. You will possess nothing."

"You are a dead man walking, Victor," Sebastian said. He lowered his handgun a fraction of an inch. He offered a target. He baited the trap. "Your hired men will slit your throat the moment they realize you cannot pay them."

Victor’s grip tightened on the rifle. The veins in his neck bulged against his collar.

"I possess cash in my pocket," Victor lied. His voice shook with adrenaline and pain. "I will pay them with your severed heads."

"You possess nothing," Sebastian countered. He took a deliberate step forward. He moved away from the desk. He drew Victor's focus away from my hiding spot. "You are a failed man. You lost the port. You lost the city. Now you stand in my building, bleeding on my floor."

Victor let out a primal scream. The noise tore through the wired mesh holding his jaw together. It sounded like an animal caught in a steel trap.

He pulled the trigger.

The rifle roared. The muzzle flash illuminated the room in a strobe of harsh yellow light. The noise deafened me.

Sebastian dropped to the floor. The burst of bullets chewed through the plaster wall behind his previous position. Dust rained down on his shoulders.

Sebastian fired from the ground. Three rapid shots.

Victor twisted. One bullet grazed his shoulder, tearing a chunk of fabric from his suit. Another bullet hit the doorframe. The third missed.

Victor stumbled backward. He did not fall. The drugs and the adrenaline in his system kept him standing. He sprayed another burst of fire across the room. Bullets shattered the remaining computer monitors on my desk. Sparks showered the carpet. The smell of burnt wire and sulfur choked the air.

I pressed my face against the floor. Debris rained down on my back.

Sebastian rolled across the room. He sought cover behind a toppled leather sofa.

"Stay down!" Sebastian yelled to me over the ringing in my ears.

Victor limped forward. He ignored his bleeding shoulder. He aimed his rifle at the leather sofa. He intended to shred the furniture and the man hiding behind it. He squeezed the trigger. The bullets ripped through the thick leather, sending tufts of stuffing into the air.

Sebastian returned fire from the edge of the sofa. He hit Victor in the thigh.

Victor grunted. His left leg buckled. He dropped to one knee. He kept firing. He emptied his magazine into the sofa. The rifle clicked empty.

Victor let out a frustrated snarl. He dropped the useless rifle onto the carpet. He reached into his waistband. He pulled out a heavy, silver revolver.

He stood up. He dragged his ruined leg. He walked toward the sofa.

He stood five feet away from my desk. He forgot about my presence. He focused his chaotic rage on Sebastian. He possessed a single desire. He wanted to look Sebastian in the eye and pull the trigger.

He reached the edge of the ruined furniture. He aimed the revolver down at the man trapped behind the leather.

I pushed myself up from the floor. I gripped the heavy metal flashlight with both hands. I stepped out from behind the mahogany desk. I did not possess a gun. I possessed anger. I possessed a refusal to let this broken man take the person I claimed hours ago.

I stepped into the open. The rain hit my face.

Victor heard my boots on the broken glass. He turned his head.

His eyes widened in surprise. He swung the silver revolver toward me.

Before he could align the barrel, Sebastian lunged from behind the sofa.

Sebastian tackled Victor around the waist. The force of the impact drove both men to the floor. The revolver fired into the ceiling, sending a shower of plaster down on us.

Victor gouged at Sebastian’s eyes. He used his thumbs, trying to blind his opponent. Sebastian twisted his head, taking a deep scratch across his cheek. Sebastian drove his knee into Victor’s bleeding thigh.

Victor let out a wet scream. He dropped the revolver. The silver gun slid across the floor, stopping near my boots.

I looked down at the weapon.

Sebastian grabbed Victor by the throat. He slammed the mad dog’s head into the floor. The impact made a sickening crack. Victor retaliated. He pulled a concealed combat knife from his ankle sheath. The blade gleamed in the dim light.

Victor thrust the knife upward. The steel bit into Sebastian’s side, tearing through the white dress shirt.

Sebastian grunted in pain. His grip loosened on Victor’s throat.

Victor pushed Sebastian off his chest. He scrambled to his knees. He held the bloody knife in his hand. He looked down at the wounded man on the floor. A triumphant, twisted grin broke across his swollen face.

He raised the blade. He prepared to deliver the final, lethal strike.