Page 115 of What I Should Have Done

“Fuck it,” Bernie stated, ripped two flash bangs from his vest, pulled the pins, and tossed them through the doorway. Ringing split the air and the gunfire ceased. Ford quickly breached the entrance, his boots clunking against the stone floor. With blood pumping in my ears, we followed, knowing we had to risk it all in order to bring down Karim once and for all.

There was no turning back.

Dom was ripped sideways the moment he stepped through, immediately engaging in a fist fight. Bernie threw an insurgent over his shoulders, while Ford blasted a hole at point blank range through another insurgent’s throat. We were outnumbered with the entire room full of waiting combatants. Chaos ensued with no time to check how Scottie was fairing.

Two insurgents rushed toward me as I emerged, and I had no time to actually count how many assailants were here. Squeezing the trigger on my rifle, I dropped both of them in a couple shots and rushed forward. Slipping a knife from its sheath, I threw it to my right, plunging it into the eye of another encroaching enemy target.

“Tank, Bernie, Viper,” Dom shouted through the comms as an arm twisted around my throat from behind. “Let’s get to the armory.”

Gunfire peppered the air, coming from all directions. Through the drowning sounds of violence, the arm around my throat tightened.

Without thinking, I rammed my head backwards and a crunch split the air. Bones shattered and the arm released its hold. Spinning around, I charged at the insurgent, who was dressed in the same traditional garb all of Karim’s men typically wore. Fear heightened in his brown eyes as I tipped my head sideways, shot my hand forward, and snapped his neck without hesitation.

As I jumped over his dead body, my knee cracked into the chin of an enemy, sending him backwards. He crashed against the cement floor with a dull thud. Next to me, I snatched up a metal stool knocked sideways beside the table bolted to the floor and bludgeoned it against his skull. He fell still, half of his face smashed like a pancake as another insurgent raised his rifle at me.

“Crow,” Dom’s voice sliced into my ear. “Get up on that fucking balcony at my nine o’clock and give us some cover at a vantage point.” I shot a quick glance to my left, taking note of the stairs and surrounding balcony, and then returned to the fight at hand.

There was no time to think. No time to feel. Only act.

Hucking the stool at him, it slammed into the gun. The insurgent released the weapon with a shake of his hands. I stole the momentary pause and lifted my own rifle. Firing two quick shots, he collapsed to the ground just as my eyes caught Bernie and Ford rushing through a newly opened gap toward the single door on the far side of this circular room.

“Crow, do you have eyes on the target? On Karim?” Dom asked through the comms as my heart dropped to my feet.

“Bernie, duck!” I radioed before Scottie had a chance to respond.

He immediately crashed to his knees as a grenade sailed over Bernie’s head. It slammed into a door that, from the map we studied, would lead to the laboratory.

A boom ricocheted through the structure, vibrating the walls and the very floor I stood on. The only person who I wasn’t sure was okay, was Scottie. Quickly scanning my surroundings, I found her engaged in a fist fight with someone twice her size, and seemingly winning. My relief was cut short with the realization of my mistake.

Knuckles slammed against my jaw, snapping my attention away from the ensuing chaos. Vibrating pain ricocheted through my teeth, but the agony was dulled by adrenaline and years of experience. Ducking on instinct as the second swing crashed in my direction, I jabbed a punch into the stomach of my assailant and then cracked a fist against the side of his face as he doubled over.

With a massive groan, debris split the atmosphere, turning the surrounding room misty with dust. And just as I wrapped an arm around the back of the assailant’s throat, I hesitated. Through the brand-new fissure in the wall where the door should have been, came a pair of innocent eyes. The insurgent squirmed in the crook of my elbow, unable to scream as I tightened the choke.

I was unable to break away from the piercing gaze of a child. A child standing in front of at least ten more kids.

Chapter 39

MIKEY

There was no fucking way this was happening. The airstrike had been risky to begin with considering the close proximity of buildings, but now? Now it was absolutely impossible. “Phoenix, there’s children. They have children down here, and I’m struggling to get through to sweep with Bernie and Tank,” I radioed, hooking fingers under the jaw of my current assailant and jerking.

That familiar crunch of bones snapped beneath my grasp. I released my choke and his body crumpled to the ground.

“How many?” Dom radioed back, his words garbled with a grunt.

“Maybe a dozen kids, but I only caught a glimpse,” I replied and rushed forward at the incoming wave of insurgents. Thriving on the chaos, I fed the demon in my mind. The battle raging around me only increased the strength of the monster released from its cage.

“Fuck,” Dom hissed. “Give me a second. We need new orders.” And the white noise crackled once, before falling silent. I rushed back into the chaos like a grenade to my feet. The surrounding sounds of violence once again permeated my ears.

Launching myself into the air, I wrapped my legs around the neck of an insurgent and twisted, slamming him to the ground. I rolled out of the attack, raised my rifle and peppered him through the back of his skull.

A body rammed into the back of mine, flattening me to the ground. With my face pinned to the stone floor, I flung an elbow back as hard as I could. Nothing would stand in my way. My elbow splatted against something, and a grunt snapped from the lips of the assailant as he flew backwards. Then a dull thud cracked through the air.

Dead weight slammed against my back.

Rolling sideways, I threw the body off me and slid my gaze briefly over him. “Thanks, Crow,” I said through the comms at the sight of the single bullet hole dead center between his eyes.

“Nothing to it,” Scottie replied, and I raised my gaze to the high rise. There she was, practically invisible. As if she was welded to the metal railing, the barrel of her sniper rifle rested on the yellow pole. The rest of her figure was tucked into the corner, hiding in shadows past a line of dead bodies. A row of insurgents delivered to the grim reaper by one hell of a fucking woman.

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