Page 82 of We Will Rise

“Was it?” another replies.

“I’m pretty sure.”

I meet Camilla’s eyes as she wraps the chains around both her hands, preparing herself for the fight that’s just moments away.

Their footsteps draw closer, and when the first guy enters, his eyes meet mine. “How the fuck did you get out?” He barely gets the sentence out before Camilla has the chain wrapped around his throat and tugs him out of the way so I can take on the other two.

His eyes widen as his throat closes over, but I don’t get to enjoy watching the life drain from his face because the next man enters with his gun raised.

I make quick work of slamming the chair down on his arm, reveling in the sound of his bone snapping and the scream that escapes his throat.

The third man shoots off a shot that misses me and gives me the opportunity to lift the chair again and slam it into his face, catching him off guard.

Camilla wrestles with the first man, her knee in his back as she tightens the chain and uses his body as a shield when the second man turns his attention to her.

“You’re dead, bitch,” he growls.

“No, I think you might be though.” Her eyes dance with mischief as she watches me lift the chair again despite my screaming shoulders and wrists and slam it into the back of his head.

He falls to the ground with a loud thud as the third guy groans, and I step toward him. Without hesitation, I drop into an excruciating crouch and cradle his head between my hands. I twist his neck, and when the crack ricochets off the concrete walls, I watch the life drain from his cold eyes.

The guy Camilla was taking care of drops to his knees as his face turns a shade of purple that’s far from natural, and when he finally slumps to the ground, Camilla lets up on the pressure of the chain.

We both collapse to the ground, our chests heaving and my body screaming at me. There’s a lot more where they came from, but at least we have real weapons now.

I reach for the guns the other two men were holding and check the chambers, finding them both full except the one bullet the third guy shot blindly, while Camilla reaches into the first guy’s waistband and does the same.

Our eyes lock, and I give her a quick nod.

We can do this.

We can get out.

I just need her to hold on a little longer.

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

CAMILLA

Bile climbs up the back of my throat as my body convulses under the exertion of walking up the single flight of stairs, but I don’t pause.

Instead, I keep in time with Crew, my hands clenched around the handle of the gun. I may not be able to physically fight right now, but I’m a good shot, and I just need my hands to be steady enough for me to do what I need to.

We pause at the top of the steps, and Crew pulls the door open enough to look out before quietly closing it again. “There’s about ten of them out here. How many shots can you get off quickly?”

“How close are they together?”

“Three groups about twenty feet apart. One group sitting around a television, which we can leave until last.”

“I can take a group before they have the chance to draw their weapons,” I tell him confidently, ignoring the way my hands shake around the weapon I’m holding.

He lets out a steadying breath before he nods. “You go left, I’ll go right, and then we’ll deal with the third group together.”

I swallow down another wave of nausea as it rolls through my body. I’m fading fast, but I refuse to let them win. I can survive this. I can get out of here. I can see the rest of my men again.

Crew pulls the door open quietly and nods for me to step out first, and when I do, I hold the gun in front of me, ready to take out anyone who stands in our way.

I lock my sights on the group of men who have just become my target, and when one of them spots me, his mouth opening to blow our cover, I pop off a shot into the center of his forehead before he can get a single word out.

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