Chapter 170 The Empty Chamber

Chapter 170 The Empty Chamber
Blood covered the roadway in dark smears.

Bodies of commuters lay twisted between abandoned sedans, their car doors hanging open. Shattered glass blanketed the asphalt, glistening under the yellow streetlights beside three dead gunmen in body armor.

Sarah scrambled along the side of the car, her eyes darting through the smoke. "Luke!"

A heavy hand slammed into her shoulder from behind, shoving her flat against the pavement.

A rifle bullet cracked through the air above her, taking a chunk of metal out of the open door frame.

"I told you to stay inside," Luke said, his voice flat as he pulled her behind the rear wheel.

Sarah rolled onto her side, coughing on the bitter smoke. "I thought you were dead."

"I'm not," Luke replied, keeping his back pressed against the tire.

Automatic gunfire erupted down the street, tearing into the front panels of the Bentley. The luxury chassis shook under the barrage as windows blew out in showers of glass.

Bullets punctured the front radiator, sending clouds of white steam hissing into the dark air. Two tires burst with loud pops, dropping the chassis onto its rims.

"Sweep the perimeter!" the mercenary leader shouted through the smoke. "Find the woman and the driver! Put bullets in both of them!"

Heavy boots crunched on the broken glass, closing in from both lanes. Footsteps approached in a tactical wedge from both sides of the concrete barrier, their boots crunching on broken headlights.

Luke pulled his weapon close, his thumb pressing the magazine release.

The metal slide stayed locked back over an empty chamber. The weapon had no rounds left.

Luke dropped the empty clip onto the asphalt. "Stay against this wheel."

"Luke, don't," Sarah pleaded, grabbing his wrist. "They have rifles."

"Keep your head down," Luke said, pulling his arm free.

He stepped out from behind the Bentley into the middle of the road.

"There he is!" a gunman yelled, raising his rifle. "Fire!"

Three rifles opened up at once, spraying lead across the open lane.

Luke moved before the first bullet cleared the barrel. He shifted his weight to the left, ducking under the line of fire and closing the distance across the asphalt.

The lead shooter tracked him with his barrel, but Luke was already inside his guard.

Luke drove the heavy steel silencer into the man's throat, crushing his windpipe in a single blow. The shooter collapsed without a sound, his rifle slipping from his fingers.

The second gunman swung his barrel around, pulling the trigger in panic.

The silencer struck the second weapon, knocking the barrel off target before the trigger could click. Luke caught the rifle by the hot barrel, forcing the muzzle toward the pavement as rounds tore into the asphalt.

With his other hand, he drove his palm upward into the man's chin, snapping his neck back.

The third shooter backed away, firing wildly on full automatic.

Rounds sparked off the road and punched through car doors, but Luke wove through the obstacles without slowing down.

He caught the man's wrist, twisted the joint until bone broke through skin, and drove his knee into his chest. The gunman flew backward into the side of a delivery van, hitting the metal and falling limp.

Down the street, the remaining three mercenaries stopped firing.

Their weapons clicked empty in unison, the slides locking back on dry chambers.

The men stood in the road, their chests heaving behind their ballistic masks as they stared at the bodies scattered across the asphalt. Not a single drop of blood marked Luke's clothes.

"What are you?" one shooter gasped, dropping his empty rifle to reach for a sidearm.

Luke crossed the gap before the man's fingers reached his holster.

He slammed the heavy pistol frame into the man's temple, dropping him instantly to the road.

The fifth gunman threw his hands into the air, backing toward the sidewalk. "Wait! Please! We were just hired—"

Luke didn't stop. He stepped inside, caught the man by his tactical collar, and drove him face-first into the concrete barrier.

The last mercenary dropped to his knees, his hands trembling against his chest. "Spare me! I'll tell you who paid us! I'll give you their names!"

"I already know who paid you," Luke said.

He struck the man across the neck with the edge of his hand, ending his breath on the spot.

Silence returned to the underpass, broken only by the hiss of punctured radiators and dripping oil.

Luke lowered his empty weapon, turning back toward the Bentley.

His breath stopped in his chest.

A surviving mercenary stood beside the open passenger door of the car.

The man had his left arm wrapped tightly around Sarah's neck, dragging her up from the pavement as a human shield. In his right hand, he held a heavy black pistol, the barrel pressed firmly against her temple.

The mercenary backed against the side panel of a delivery truck, pulling Sarah tighter against his armor as his hands shook. The cold metal of the barrel dug painfully into the side of her skull, forcing her head back.

"Drop the gun!" the mercenary shrieked, his voice cracking with terror. "Drop it right now, or I blow her head off!"

Sarah gasped for air, her fingernails clawing at the thick tactical sleeve around her throat. Tears ran down her pale face as she looked at Luke across the road.

Luke stood in the center of the lane, his posture rigid.

He didn't drop his weapon.

"Let her go," Luke said, his voice dropping into a cold, lethal rasp that cut through the silence.

"I swear I'll pull the trigger!" the gunman screamed, backing toward the side of the van while dragging Sarah with him. "Take one step forward and watch her die!"

"You're playing with fire," Luke warned, taking a slow step onto the lane. "Let her go right now, and I'll make your death quick."

"Stay back!" the man yelled, his finger tightening visibly on the trigger. "I'm not going to jail! Stay back or she dies first!"

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, trembling against the cold steel pressed into her skin.

BANG.

A sharp gunshot cracked through the underpass from the darkness behind the mercenary.

The man's body jerked forward in a sudden, violent spasm. A red hole punched through the center of his chest plate.

His grip went completely slack.

The black pistol slipped from his fingers, clattering against the asphalt as the mercenary slowly collapsed onto his knees and rolled onto the road.