Page 129 of I Am Salvation

I regain my balance just in time to see a robed figure lunge at Griffin, and she stumbles back, fear etched on her face.

I sprint forward, gripping the knife. “Griffin!”

This time I see recognition flare in her gaze. It’s unmistakable. She knows exactly who I am, and that I will do everything in my power to see to her safety.

Even if it means giving my own life for hers.

I reach her just as the cultist is about to strike again. With a roar, I plunge the knife into his side. He cries out and stumbles back, clutching his wound.

But we’re not done yet. I turn around just in time to see another hooded figure running at me. I ground myself and knock the knife out of his hand before tripping him. He tumbles to the ground, and I go down with him. We scramble to grab his knife, but I get my hands on it a split second before he does.

I point it right between his eyeballs. “You don’t have to die. Stay down and let me and my sister go, and you just might live to see the light of another day.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Take off your fucking hood, asshole,” I say. “Let me see the face of a man who willingly abuses a poor girl for the jollies of his deranged friends.”

He slowly reaches under the hood and pulls it over his head.

And I’m shocked at how normal he looks.

Tidy blond hair, blue eyes. Freckles on his cheeks. Mid-thirties, maybe.

The kind of guy who you might lend your lawnmower to.

“Stay down,” I order. I turn to Griffin to grab her hand and escort her out, but I feel something clamping onto my leg.

And then a sharp pain in my ankle.

I look down. The motherfucker just grabbed me by the leg and sank his teeth into the flesh of my ankle. Probably in a last-ditch effort to get me to drop the knife so he could take me out.

“What the fuck?” I kick at him.

He lets go of my ankle, looking up at me with a bloodstained grin.

I’m about to get on my knees and stab this maniac right through his skull when gunfire rains down on him. One of the SWAT guys has come to our rescue, and the blond cultist falls to the ground dead, a mixture of my blood and his still dripping off his toothy grin.

“Take her and get the hell out of here,” the SWAT guy says.

Griffin looks at me with wide eyes. She’s shaking, tears streaming down her face. But now is not the time to comfort her.

“Come on, Griffin!” I shout over the noise around us, grabbing her hand.

She nods, gripping my hand tightly. Together we navigate through the chaos. A SWAT member goes down near us, a cult member standing over him, ready to strike.

I let go of Griffin’s hand for a moment, lunging at the cult member and tackling him to the ground. I punch him in the face, feeling his nose break under my knuckles, and then I retrieve his knife. A look of gratitude flashes in the fallen SWAT member’s eyes as I offer him a hand up.

With that, we push through the mayhem toward the exit. Gunshots echo around us, and agonized screams fill the air as we make our way out, reminding me just how close we are to death.

Just when we reach the door, an earth-shattering roar echoes through the compound, shaking it to its foundations. The ground beneath our feet trembles, and I lose my balance, falling to my knees. Griffin cries out, and I turn just in time to see a massive figure diving at her with a knife.

Ignoring the pain that shoots up my legs from the fall, I force myself back to my feet and charge at him. With a roar, I slam into him, sending both of us sprawling. The knife skids out of his hand, clattering on the stone floor. I scramble over him, landing punch after punch until he’s no longer moving.

Gasping for air, I pull myself up and turn back to Griffin, who’s watching me wide-eyed.

“It’s okay,” I pant, extending my hand to her.

She takes it, and I help her to her feet.

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