Page 63 of Assistant to the Assassin

Just a little farther.

Suddenly, something knocks me off my feet and falls on top of me. After my brain catches up with what just happened, I look up to see one of the mercs holding me down by the wrists. From my research into Harrison, I know this guy is his second-in-command, and he looks pretty fucking mad. His face is stained red with blood, his hair is matted with dirt and dust, and there’s a crazed look in his eyes that makes my stomach drop.

“Well well well,” he croons, grinning down at me. “You must be Ms. Reed. I know someone that would love to meet you.”

I instinctively start struggling against his grip, but he’s too strong. He begins laughing at me, amused by my reaction. He’s like a lion watching a gazelle slowly be surrounded by his pride. I can see my gun on the ground a few feet away; it taunts me as much as the man pinning me down does.

“I’m going to enjoy watching John carve into your soft, delicate skin,” he whispers, his mouth so close to my face I can feel his hot breath fan against my cheek.

I hear Henry’s voice in my head instructing me how to get out of a situation like this. He trained me for this. I can’t fight against his strength, but I can make him fight against physics. I headbutt him, immediately pressing my pelvis up against his. He lets go of my wrists to catch himself, so I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his torso. I shove one of his arms between us, allowing me to roll us over so I’m on top of him. I don’t have time to get my gun, so instead I grab a rock off the ground and start slamming it down into his face. I manage to get a few blows in before he shoves me off of him. I scramble to my feet just as he does, and just as he tries to grab me again, I kick at his chest as hard as I can, making him stumble back into a very familiar bush. It’s the one Henry told me to avoid at all costs when we first got onto the island.

Mr. Second-In-Command falls ass first onto that bush, and he barely has time to process what’s happened before an automatic landmine goes off, making him explode right in front of me. I watch blood and guts fly towards the sky, and I shield my face from getting splashed with them. I then hear a wet thud, and I find his head where the bush used to be.

I can have a mental breakdown about seeing a head blown off of a body later, I tell myself as I grab my gun off the ground, fighting an intense wave of nausea. My hands are starting to shake, and I’ve only been sweating more since the decapitated guy attacked me.

“Henry needs me,” I whisper, reminding myself why I’m out here in the first place. I chant that phrase over and over again as I run the final stretch between me and him, and my legs move faster than they ever have before, my lungs heaving harder than they’ve ever heaved.

I just hope I’m not too late.

Harrison’s grip around my neck gets tighter, and no matter how hard I pull at his arm and gouge at his hands, he doesn’t let up. He’s not going to relent until I die, and I’m starting to think there’s no other way this ends. A minute or two more and I’ll suffocate to death. That is, if he doesn’t break my neck first.

The sinking reality that I’m probably going to die doesn’t stop me from trying to fight him off. If I’m to die, I’m going to go out fighting. I’ll be damned if I let this fucker have the satisfaction of seeing me give up.

Just when my vision starts to get a little spotty, I hear a gunshot ring through the air. I look up just in time to see the bullet hit Harrison in his right eye. His grip loosens on my neck, then he falls backwards, allowing me to stumble my way to freedom. I unceremoniously fall onto the side of my body that’s mostly unscathed, and I find the still body of Harrison in a similar position—on his side, his head leaning against the ground. His one good eye stares right through me, and a chill runs down my spine at the alternative reality I see there, the person I could have been.

I expect to see Ian when I look over to where the shot came from, but I find a sweaty, disheveled Beth. She pants and shakes as she runs over to me, tears streaming down her cheeks. I want to give her shit for coming up here, for risking her life, but the only thing that comes out of my mouth is, “Thank you.”

My gratitude makes her cry harder. “You’re such an asshole.”

I try to laugh but it hurts too much, so it ends up more as a coughing fit that I wince through the whole time. “For thanking you?”

“For nearly dying.” She kneels next to me, cupping my face between her palms. “Your life isn’t yours to give away, H. Your life is mine, understood? You’re never going to jeopardize it again.”

“So, bossy,” I whisper, smiling up at her.

“Beth?” I hear Ian’s voice ask. He shows up at my other side a few seconds later, sweaty and a little bruised up, but otherwise not injured. “What happened?”

“She saved me,” I inform him, letting out a slight whimper when Beth brushes against my dislocated arm. “Or what’s left of me. Think you could fix me up?”

Ian rolls his eyes playfully, unable to hide a grin. “Some things never change.”

Slowly, he and Beth help me up, and we start to move at a snail’s pace towards the bunker, with Ian taking most of my weight while Beth hugs my torso, partially to help me stand but also just to hold me, and I hold her right back, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

“I think we need to find another island,” Beth remarks, looking around at the horror movie surrounding us. “We can’t stay in the bunker forever, and if we come up here, it’s a bio hazard.”

“I’m sure we can help out with that,” Ian chimes in. “But are you sure you two want to stay out here? With Harrison and his crew dead, you don’t have to hide anymore. You could go anywhere, do anything, be anything.”

Beth and I lock eyes, and when she gives me a bright, beautiful smile, I know we’re on the same page.

“We have everything we need right here,” Beth answers, and I couldn’t agree more.

It took a good three months before Henry was up and mobile again. Between the dislocated arm, concussion, bullet wound, and broken ribs, he’s lucky his recovery didn’t take longer. Even now, he’s still a bit sore, but Henry isn’t the kind of person to sit idle for extended periods of time. He’s a busybody.

Thankfully he has the perfect task to occupy himself.

With the combined efforts of ourselves, Ian, Ambrose, and Ambrose’s smuggling crew, we were able to clear the surface of the island of all the blood, bodies, and remaining traps. It took fucking forever. Henry was almost fully healed by the time the last landmine was taken out of the ground.

Ambrose was then kind enough to hire and transport some builders to the island to help us make a house. I love the bunker, but I’ve seen enough post-apocalyptic movies to know that living underground long-term isn’t a good idea. The lack of sunlight and natural air would start to affect our health. So, after another month’s worth of work, a cute cottage was built in the center of the island, right next to the bunker’s entrance. Henry let me design it, so I showed the builders some cottagecore pictures off of Pinterest so they could get an idea of the vibe I was going for, and they made my dreams come alive. It’s a single story with a fully working kitchen, two bathrooms, a living room, a bedroom, and a fireplace. Between it and the bunker, we have everything we’ll ever need.

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