Page 23 of Promises in the Dark

My eyes were glued on the kid. He couldn’t have been more than ten, lying there with his pale face and eyes shut like he was already half gone.

In a sudden, alarming twist, the boy rose to his feet, a glint of steel clutched tightly in his small hand. My anger switched into pure adrenaline, my instincts firing on all cylinders.

“Red, watch out!”

In a heartbeat, I closed the distance between us, positioning myself protectively in front of her. With a prompt and fluid motion, I reached into my pocket, retrieving the penknife. Its cool metal pressed against my palm provided me a reassuring weight for my tensed muscles.

“Drop the knife, kid. It’s not worth it.”

My attention snapped from the kid to the shadows multiplying like horny rabbits. Four assholes crept out, surrounding me and Red like rabid wolves. Their movements were slow and calculated, like they were savoring the moment before the slaughter. I could feel their eyes crawling all over me, like I was some insect they were about to crush under their boots.

The kid scurried his sorry little ass behind them, like the coward he was, hiding behind the biggest motherfucker in the group. His face twisted into some sick little smirk, gripping that knife like it was the only thing keeping him from pissing himself.

We were boxed in, no way out.

I stood there like a statue, watching those four pricks closing in on us. They knew this land, moving like they’d been roaming these mountains and hills their entire lives.

I tightened my grip on my knife, assessing the fucked-up situation we were in.

Outnumbered and completely outmatched.

Not ideal.

Sweat dripped down my back as those four fuckers circled us, their dead eyes promising nothing good. They were draped in those worn Afghan robes and tribal wraps, looking rough as hell. Their hands were like sandpaper, worn down from God knows what, probably worse than what I’d seen. Each one held a long knife or a blade, and they looked ready to carve us up for fun.

“Stay close,” I murmured to Red.

I braced myself, adrenaline kicking in as I eyed them up. These weren’t just some amateurs—they were fucking killers, hardened by years of this life. And me? I was getting ready to meet them halfway.

The leader, or at least the ugliest bastard of the bunch, stepped forward with a sneer on his face. His teeth looked like he’d been chewing on rocks for breakfast.

“You think you can walk through our territory without paying?” His English was broken, but the threat was crystal clear. “You and the girl better hand over something valuable, or you’re not leaving alive.”

I locked eyes with him, my voice steady as hell. “Look, we don’t have anything to give you. We’re just passing through. Let us go, and you won’t have any trouble from us.”

A twisted smile spread across the motherfucker’s face, revealing a row of decaying teeth.

“You think we’re stupid? Your American army pays good money to ruin our country. You’ve got something.”

He waved his blade in my face, grinning like he already won. “Or maybe we’ll start with your pretty little friend here.”

That did it. The familiar burn of rage shot through me like a drug. The darkness I usually kept buried deep inside started clawing its way up, hungry for violence.

“You touch her, and you’ll beg for death,” I said slowly, my voice devoid of emotion.

I glanced at Red, feeling her grip tighten on me, her breath shaky. She was scared, and I didn’t blame her. I reached back, slipping the penknife into her hand, motioning to hide it in her clothes.

“You might need it,” I whispered. “In case anything happens.” Her hand clung to mine like I was the last lifeline she had. That bastard kept inching closer, his eyes zeroed in on her like a prize.

“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you? I think I’ll enjoy breaking you before I finish off your boyfriend here.”

That was it. Rage exploded inside me like a fucking volcano. The darkness took over, my mind locked in on one thing: tearing this piece of shit apart.

I wanted to kill, to maim, to destroy.

In a blink of an eye, I lunged at him, my movements fueled by a primal rage. Though my ribs screamed in protest, I pushed through the pain. The weight of my fist collided with his jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground.

His laughter transformed into a pained groan as blood spilled from his split lip. I ducked under a wild swing, delivering a punishing uppercut to one fucker’s jaw, sending him crashing to the ground.

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