Chapter 60 High Tension 4

Chapter 60 High Tension 4
Sable POV

Concrete dust falls into the corridor as Drazen steps through the hole in the wall. He doesn't roar or shift. He doesn't even utter a single word but his eyes are blazing. He simply grabs the guard standing over me by the straps of his tactical vest, lifts him off the floor, and flings him backward.

The man flies through the air and slams into the reinforced observation window. The thick glass shatters inward with a deafening crash, raining down onto the white tiles of the containment room.

That second, the heavy boots pinning my wrists disappear so I roll onto my stomach, gasping for air.

"Who are you... What could you possibly want from a six year old?" I screamed.

The blonde woman doesn't panic. I see her mouth moving;she probably cussing the hell out of us because my fists are clenched and her face red when she slams her palm against a red emergency panel on the wall.

A piercing, high-pitched screech erupts from the ceiling speakers. It bypasses my ears and rattles directly against my teeth. At the exact same second, vents overhead snap open, dumping a thick, sulfur-colored aerosol gas into the confined corridor.

Drazen inhales the mist and stops dead.

The golden rings in his eyes flash wildly, fighting the chemical, before vanishing entirely into dull brown. He drops to one knee, coughing violently. Bright red blood splatters from his mouth onto the floor as the toxin strips the pureblood strength right out of his veins.

The second giant guard charges at him.

Drazen raises his arm to block a downward strike from a heavy steel baton. The bone in his forearm cracks audibly but he doesn't retreat. He lunges upward, fighting as a bleeding, vulnerable human. He takes a brutal punch to the jaw, his head snapping back, but he drives his elbow into the guard's throat.

Meanwhile, the remaining people in the room are trying to untie Sera hurriedly so I scrambled toward my dropped crowbar but the blonde woman intercepts me. Her heavy combat boot connects harshly with my ribs.

The impact drives every ounce of oxygen from my lungs as I hit the floor hard, rolling blindly to avoid her second stomp.

She draws a sleek, black combat knife from her belt. "Stay down, medic. Those two are worth millions. As for you, maybe someone in the black market would have need of you."

"Did they send you?" I gasped as the realization hit me. "You did this to Anna didn't you? You killed her."

She doesn't answer but the smirk on her face tells me all I need to know. Since I don't know martial arts but I know human anatomy, I sweep my leg out, catching her ankle. She stumbles but doesn't fall.

In retaliation, she slashes downward, the blade slicing a shallow, burning line across my shoulder. I ignore the pain, grabbing a broken, six-inch shard of shattered observation glass from the debris on the floor.

I drive the glass upward, sinking it deep into the outer curve of her thigh.

The woman screams, dropping the knife and stumbling backward.

I scramble on my hands and knees over the broken cinderblocks toward the shattered window. I have to get to Sera.

The little girl is still strapped to the metal chair completely unconscious, her chin resting on her chest while her captors struggle to untangle her from all the series of wires they had attached to her.

Behind me, the sound of breaking bone echoes through the corridor. Drazen twists the guard's knee backward until the joint snaps, dropping the massive man to the tiles. Drazen is bleeding heavily from a cut over his eye, his breathing ragged and shallow from the toxic gas.

The blonde woman limps backward, leaning against the wall. Her eyes go from her defeated guards, then to Drazen advancing slowly through the yellow mist. She realizes she has lost the facility.

Her foot hits a heavy piece of metal on the floor. It’s the industrial pneumatic bolt gun the first guard dropped.

She drops to her good knee and snatches the weapon from the tiles. It is heavy,cumbersome, and loaded with a thick spike of jagged black pellets. She doesn't aim it at Drazen. She doesn't aim it at me.

She lifts the heavy barrel, resting it on her forearm to steady her shaking hands, and points it straight through the shattered window.

Directly at the unconscious six-year-old strapped to the chair.

"No!" I scream.

I move across the debris, reaching blindly for the barrel. But I am too far away.

Her finger squeezes the trigger.

And the deafening hiss-crack of compressed air echoes through the lab.

The last thing I see is a shadow that stepped directly into the line of fire. Judging by the color of her hair, it could only mean one thing.