Chapter 238 He Pulls A Hidden Gun

Chapter 238 He Pulls A Hidden Gun
Victor raised the blade. He aimed the sharp steel at the center of Sebastian’s back.

I dove for the silver revolver resting on the carpet. The broken glass sliced the palms of my hands. I ignored the sting. I wrapped my fingers around the cold metal grip. The weapon felt heavy and awkward.

Before I could lift the barrel, Sebastian moved. He ignored the deep knife wound in his side. He planted his hands on the floor and kicked backward. His heavy boot connected with Victor’s bad knee.

The joint buckled. Victor collapsed forward. The downward thrust of his knife missed Sebastian’s flesh. The blade sank deep into the plush carpet, embedding itself in the floorboards.

Sebastian rolled away from the strike. He pushed himself to his feet.

I raised the revolver. I pointed the muzzle toward the men. My hands shook. The office offered zero visibility. The flashing neon lights from the city grid provided sporadic, harsh illumination. I lacked a clear line of sight. They moved too fast. They stayed too close together. If I pulled the trigger, I risked putting a bullet in my partner.

Victor yanked the combat knife free from the floor. He scrambled up. He did not retreat. The drugs and the adrenaline masked his pain. He possessed a single, lethal focus.

He slashed the knife in a wide, horizontal arc.

Sebastian did not step back. He stepped into the strike. He raised his left arm, sacrificing the limb to protect his throat. The sharp steel tore through his ruined white dress shirt. A fresh line of dark blood welled up on his forearm.

Sebastian did not flinch. He used the momentum of Victor’s swing. He grabbed Victor’s knife hand with his right grip. He twisted the wrist backward.

A loud, wet snap echoed over the sound of the storm outside.

Victor screamed. His fingers opened. The combat knife dropped to the floor. It clattered against the base of the overturned leather sofa.

Sebastian did not let go. He pulled Victor forward and drove his knee into Victor’s stomach. The impact forced the air from Victor’s lungs.

Victor retaliated with raw, dirty desperation. He dropped his head and drove his forehead into Sebastian’s face. The headbutt landed with a sickening crunch. Blood poured from Sebastian’s nose, coating his lips.

They broke apart. They stood in the center of the ruined office.

The cold rain blew through the shattered floor-to-ceiling windows. The wind whipped their wet clothes against their bodies. The space felt like a concrete cage.

Sebastian breathed in heavy, ragged pulls. The stab wound in his ribs bled a steady stream. The cut on his arm dripped onto the carpet. His face was a mask of bruises and fresh blood. He took massive damage fighting his way up seventy floors. He fought a dozen men in the dark to reach this room. His stamina drained.

Victor stood a few feet away. His wired jaw gave his face a distorted, rigid grimace. He held his broken right wrist against his chest. He reached to his left side and picked up a heavy, jagged shard of window glass from the floor. He intended to keep cutting.

"You bleed," Victor slurred. The wire in his mouth muffled the words. "You bleed like a normal man."

Sebastian spat a mouthful of blood onto the gray plaster dust. He did not speak. He raised his fists.

Victor lunged. He swung the glass shard at Sebastian’s eyes.

Sebastian leaned back. The makeshift blade missed his eyes but sliced a deep, long cut across his left cheek.

Sebastian ignored the new wound. He closed the distance. He grabbed Victor by the lapels of his torn suit jacket. He drove Victor backward across the room.

They crashed into the tall wooden bookshelves. The heavy furniture tipped over. Hundreds of thick hardcovers and metal bookends rained down on their heads and shoulders.

Sebastian pinned Victor against the plaster wall. He delivered a brutal, punishing sequence of blows to Victor’s torso. He targeted the ribs. He targeted the liver. The sound of his fists hitting flesh and bone echoed in the room. He dismantled the man with cold, mechanical precision.

Victor gasped for air. He dropped the glass shard. He brought his uninjured left arm up. He drove his elbow into the deep stab wound on Sebastian’s side.

Sebastian grunted in pain. His grip loosened.

Victor shoved him away.

Sebastian stumbled backward. He hit the edge of the ruined mahogany desk.

Victor did not pause. He grabbed a solid crystal paperweight from the wreckage of the desktop. He stepped forward and smashed the heavy glass object against the side of Sebastian’s head.

The crystal shattered on impact.

Sebastian staggered. His knees buckled. He dropped to the floor, resting his weight on one knee. He pressed a hand against his bleeding ribs. The white fabric of his shirt turned deep, wet red. His vision blurred. The cumulative toll of the night began to shut his body down.

Victor stood over him. He breathed hard. Blood dripped from his chin. He looked down at the man who took his business and his freedom.

"You built a company," Victor wheezed. "You built a tower. Now you die on the floor."