Page 133 of Coerced Queen

Ignoring the pain, I force myself to stand.I stumble before righting myself.It’s only then that I notice the blood dripping down my arm.A neat hole is lodged in my bicep.Strangely, I don’t feel that pain, only the sting from the glass and the tarmac burn.

Another shot rings out.I run two steps and duck behind an empty drum.A man with a rifle in his hand pushes through the door frame.His clothes are on fire.He falls on the ground and rolls over once, twice before going still.

I sprint the few yards to a stack of containers, ignoring the stitch in my side and the tightness in my chest that makes it difficult to breathe.I reach the safe distance not a second too early.A series of explosions go off like fireworks, shooting corrugated iron roof plates into the sky.

The grenades.

My breath stutters.My teeth chatter.I inhale the smoke and heat that taint the crisp night air, filling my lungs with the smell of destruction.The scents and sounds as well as the sight of the flames bring back a sharp, terrifying memory of my wedding day, but I try not to think about that lest it throws me back into the past and dislodges the incapacitating fear.

When everything remains quiet except for the roar of the raging fire, I dare a peek.

No one moves.

I give it another few seconds before coming out of my hiding place.

Nothing happens.

No gunshots are fired.

I ease closer until I reach the man on the ground.He lies on his back, staring at me unblinkingly, dragging in noisy breaths through his open mouth.The skin of his left cheek is peeled, melted clean off his bones.It’s the one who searched me.

I don’t feel pity as I bend down and test the temperature of his rifle shaft with a finger.The metal isn’t hot enough to burn the skin off my palm.I pry it from his hand and stand over him.He looks at me with a plea in his eyes, begging me to end him.

They took my baby, a tiny, helpless little girl.They were going to rape and kill me.

Aiming the barrel between his eyes, I show him more mercy than he ever intended showing me.

Pop.

The light in his eyes goes out.They stare unseeingly at the glow of the flames that lights up the night sky.

Movement at the side of the building catches my attention.A man hobbles toward the fence.He doubles over and goes down on all fours, but he doesn’t slow down.He continues to crawl away from the light of the fire, his destination the shadows at the border of the property.

I recognize the white shirt and the tailored pants.

Shards of glass and sharp pebbles dig into my soles, but I don’t heed the discomfort.I cut over the deserted lot with steady steps, quickly closing the distance between us.

As if sensing my presence, he looks over his shoulder.His eyes flare ever so slightly, and then he doubles his effort, slithering like a snake on his stomach.I go after him, a hunter stalking her prey with single-minded focus.

That calmness of earlier comes over me again.The hatred Raphael Morelli unleashed inside me when I woke up in a hospital and discovered what he did pumps through my veins.This is a fight for survival, and I’ve never felt stronger.

He grunts from the exertion, moving faster, but there’s no escape.I walk next to him, my stride leisurely compared to how hard he rows himself forward on his elbows.I register that part of human nature, how he denies the inevitable and fights his fate.Before me crawls the man who changed me, the man who turned me into a vengeful creature.A better person will walk away instead of sinking to Morelli’s level.A good person will call Detective Jordan and leave the judgment to the legal system.But the person I am now knows that no one can be trusted, not even judges and officers in the force.Powerful men have pawns and minions everywhere.Even in jail.Clever men don’t leave loose ends.However, even the most dangerous and cleverest men can underestimate the power of a mother’s love for her child.No one touches my baby.No one lays a finger on my family.

I lift my foot and slam my heel into the back of his knee.His kneecap crunches on the gravel.A howl tears from his chest as I put my full weight behind the effort.

“Anya!”

I hear my name from somewhere far off.It’s like a distant echo in the back of my mind, the voice a familiar and soothing memory.

I get off Raphael and kick him in the ribs until I manage to roll him over so I can take away his gun, but he lost it in the explosion.The mocking smile he aims for is more of a grimace.The laugh he throws at me is hollow.His shirt is torn in the front, revealing shredded skin and the open wound in his chest.Blood runs from his nose and mouth.One ear is missing.

“Anya!”

I step over him and push the gun against his forehead.His face pulls into a mask of contempt even as panic flickers in his eyes.He tries to hide his fear, but Raphael Morelli is afraid to die.He knows he lost.He lost his wife, his baby, his empire, and now he’s about to lose his life.

“How does it feel?”I snarl, tightening my finger on the trigger.

“Anya!”

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