Page 48 of Cheshire

We crept closer, the building a hulking beast in the moonlight. Then, the world exploded.

“Go, go, go!” I shouted as gunfire erupted. Bullets spat from the darkness. I saw the flash of a muzzle and returned fire.

“Cover!” Knave roared, his voice a battle cry.

“Cheshire!” It was Mock’s voice, a warning.

I turned, a figure charging at me, knife glinting. No time to think. My arm shot out and I fired. He dropped with a thud on the ground.

“Push forward!” Hatter commanded, his presence a steady force amid the chaos.

“Clear!” Rabbit’s voice cut through the din.

“Second floor,” I yelled, taking the stairs two at a time, the others hot on my heels.

We reached the top and paused at the door, heart pounding, my gun ready. This was it, the moment of truth. I kicked the door open, my brothers at my back, ready to face hell itself.

“Eliza, wait for me. We’re coming!”

The battle had begun in truth, and I wasn’t walking out of here without my woman.

Chapter Seventeen

Cheshire

Holmes was close now. I could feel him. My blood hummed with the promise of the clash, every bruise and drop of sweat bringing me closer to the bastard who thought he could take what was mine. My brothers fought beside me, just as they always had.

“Cheshire!” The call ripped through space. “I’d thought for sure you’d die before you got this far.”

“Here I come, Sheriff,” I growled under my breath, my grin sharp, teeth flashing.

This was it. The final battle. And I wouldn’t let him slip away again.

The air crackled with tension, thick enough to choke on. There he stood, Sheriff Holmes, his stance wide and the glint of madness in his eyes. I stepped closer, boots scraping against the debris.

We squared off, two predators circling. The room faded away, leaving just him and me locked in a silent war of wills. I knew his type -- no rules, no honor. Just raw, desperate power. My muscles tensed, ready for whatever dirty trick he’d pull. Men like him never fought fair.

Then, like a viper, he struck -- a wild haymaker swing aimed at my head. I could almost feel the whoosh of air as I ducked low, the punch missing by a hairsbreadth. Adrenaline surged through me, hot and electric, as I danced back.

“Nice try,” I sneered. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

Holmes’ face twisted into a snarl, and I braced myself. However long this took, I knew one thing for certain. Only one of us was walking out of here alive.

Holmes recoiled from his miss, and I saw my in. No time for fancy moves -- this was street fighting, dirty and quick. I jabbed at his gut, his ribs -- anywhere soft, trying to do the most damage as quickly as possible. Each thud of knuckle against flesh was a promise, a silent vow that I’d end this.

“Ugh!” he grunted as I worked him over, relishing the sharp exhale of his pained breaths. His arms flailed, trying to guard his battered body, but I kept slipping through every crack in his defense.

“Is that all you got, Sheriff?” I taunted.

But pride’s a dangerous thing. It blinds. And Holmes’ booted foot came out of nowhere. It caught me square in the chest, the impact stealing my breath and sending me flying. Wood splintered as I crashed into some crates. The sound echoed throughout the room.

Pain exploded in my back, a thousand needles of wood piercing skin and muscle. Dust clouds rose around me. The air was thick with the scent of rot and old wood. I gasped, coughing, and feeling so much pain, I knew I’d have a deep and dark bruise later. But I couldn’t stay down, not with Eliza’s life on the line, not with victory so damn close.

“Come on, Cheshire,” I muttered to myself, pushing through the pain. “Show this bastard what happens when you corner a cat.”

I rolled to my side, spitting out the grit that had lodged in my mouth. My vision swam as I pushed up on shaky arms, every muscle screaming in protest. There was no time for pain, no space for weakness. Not here, not now.

Using the debris for leverage, I managed to haul myself upright. My fingers brushed against cold metal -- a pipe, abandoned and perfect. Grasping it like a lifeline, I surged to my feet, the weight of it oddly comforting in my grip.

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