Page 74 of Rescuing Ember

I peek around the edge of the dumpster. Bruiser and his two goons block the entrance to the alley. They’re armed but overconfident. They think they have us trapped.

They’re not entirely wrong.

I turn to Ember, my voice barely a whisper. “When I move, stay down. No matter what happens, don’t come out until it’s clear. Understand?”

She nods, eyes wide with fear and determination.

I take a deep breath, centering myself. Then, I explode into action.

I burst from behind the dumpster, catching the first man by surprise. My fist connects with his solar plexus, driving the air from his lungs. As he doubles over, I grab his head and bring it down hard on my rising knee. He crumples, out cold.

The second man is quicker. He swings a meaty fist at my head. I duck, feeling the wind of its passage ruffle my hair. I drive my shoulder into his midsection, using his momentum to flip him over my back. He lands hard, head cracking against the pavement.

That leaves Bruiser.

“Well, well,” he growls, cracking his knuckles. “Looks like the hero wants to play.”

We circle each other, the narrow alley leaving little room to maneuver. Bruiser’s massive, at least a head taller than me, and twice as wide, but I’ve got speed on my side.

He lunges, a ham-sized fist aimed at my face. I sidestep, driving an elbow into his ribs as he passes. He grunts in pain but doesn’t slow down.

His backhand catches me off guard, connecting with my jaw. Stars explode across my vision. I taste blood.

I stumble back, shaking my head to clear it. Bruiser presses his advantage, raining down blows. I block what I can, but his reach is too long. Pain blossoms across my torso.

A particularly vicious punch drives me to my knees. Bruiser looms over me, a sadistic grin on his face.

“Not so tough now, are you?” he sneers, drawing back for a final blow.

“Stop.” Ember’s voice rings out. “Or I drop him.”

We freeze. Ember stands over one of the unconscious goons, my piece in her hands. When did she grab that?

“Back off,” she says, her voice steel. The gun doesn’t waver.

Bruiser laughs, the sound echoing off the alley walls. “You think I care about some grunt? Go ahead, sweetheart. One less mouth to feed.”

But his eyes flick to the gun. That’s all the distraction I need.

I surge upward, driving my head into Bruiser’s chin. His teeth click together with an audible snap. Before he can recover, I’m on him.

My fists are a blur, years of training and pent-up rage fueling each blow. I drive him back, step by step, until his back hits the alley wall.

A final, devastating uppercut lifts Bruiser off his feet. He crashes to the ground, out cold.

For a moment, there’s only the sound of my ragged breathing and the distant wail of sirens.

I stumble toward Ember, every muscle screaming in protest. Gently, I take the gun from her trembling hands.

“We need to move,” I rasp, grabbing her arm. “Now.”

We sprint down the alley, leaving the unconscious men behind. As we emerge onto the street, the wail of sirens grows louder.

“This way.” Ember tugs me down a side street, her knowledge of the area our only advantage.

We weave through the streets, putting as much distance as possible between us, our pursuers, and those sirens.

We duck into a narrow passage between buildings, barely wide enough to squeeze through. The brick walls press in on either side, scraping against my shoulders.

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