Page 106 of Savage Lover

Sione is dragging me like I’m a rag doll. It takes zero effort for him to pull me back up to the main floor, and into the actual kitchen.

I struggle and flail with all my strength. I might as well be punching a wall. He doesn’t seem to feel any of it.

“Don’t!” I beg him. “If you kill me, Nero’s gonna—”

“I don’t work for Nero,” Sione grunts. “I work for Levi.”

With that, he closes his massive hands around my throat and starts to squeeze.

In the two seconds of blood flow I have left, I close my eyes and try to picture what Nero would do in this situation.

I remember what he told me:

You’re always going to be the smaller opponent. So don’t even try to play fair. Hit them in the vulnerable spots: eyes, nose, throat, kneecaps, groin, feet.

With every bit of my remaining strength, I stomp down hard on Sione’s instep. Then I boot him again, right in the kneecap. His trunk-like leg buckles under him, and his hands loosen slightly around my throat. That’s when I kick him as hard as I can in the balls.

He lets go of me for an instant, doubling over. I grab the knife Nero gave me out of my pocket, and I whip it open just like he showed me. Then I stab it down into Sione’s shoulder.

I could have tried to stab him in the neck. But even in my desperation, I don’t want to kill him.

That turns out to be a huge mistake.

As I turn to flee, Sione grabs my ankle, jerking my legs out from under me. I crash down on my stomach, knocking the air out of my lungs. My chin hits the linoleum, cracking my teeth together and biting my tongue hard enough to fill my mouth with blood.

Sione is dragging me back toward him, his eyes rage-filled and murderous. I flip over and kick upwards at him, but it’s useless. He’s just too fucking strong.

He grabs me by the tattered remains of my shirt and jerks me toward him, swinging one massive fist at my face.

Wildly, I grab for the only thing at hand—a cast-iron fry-pan on the stove. The pan connects with the side of his head a millisecond before his fist can cave in my face. The blow jolts him, and his fist grazes off my forehead instead, still hitting me hard enough to fill my vision with stars.

Still, I manage to grab the handle of the knife and jerk it out of his shoulder.

We both stumble backward, in opposite directions. I’ve got the knife, and he’s got about a hundred and fifty pounds on me. We circle each other, Sione looking dazed but deadly.

Meanwhile, I hear somebody stomping up the steps.

Levi yells, “What the fuck is going on up there? Don’t tell me you need help with one little—”

At that moment, the front door explodes inward under the force of a police battering ram. Somebody tosses a metal canister into the house, and it rolls into the hallway between the kitchen and living room.

Sione stares at it, his brain not quite back to normal speed.

I sprint toward the back door. I wrench it open just as the canister explodes. The light and noise are blinding.

The force flings me down the back steps onto the grass. Even though I only caught part of it, I’m crawling around blind, my ears ringing. I know I don’t have a second to waste. I sprint for the back fence, only able to see a blurry outline of where I’m going. I vault over it, skinning both arms, but dropping down safe on the other side.

I’m flooded with adrenaline, my body telling me to run, run, run away from Levi’s house as fast as I can.

Instead, I army-crawl through his neighbor’s yard, circling back around.

I can see the cops swarming into Levi’s house, shouting, “GET DOWN! GET DOWN!” to everybody inside.

Looks like enough time passed that Schultz got worried. Or he managed to pick up some of the recording.

I don’t really give a shit anymore. Schultz is occupied, so I did my job. Or at least, most of it. There’s one more thing I need . . .

My vision is starting to come back, though everything still sounds muffled, with a constant high whine over top.

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