Page 107 of Inception

“Knock her out, Bobby! Shut her the hell up!”

I kicked my legs out as soon as he came near me, this time aiming for the other knee.

“You want me to cut you, bitch? I’ll cut you,” he warned, flailing the blade in my direction. And then suddenly, he was gone, soaring backwards through the air like a bag of trash.

I looked up and found Trace standing in his place, sublime fury infiltrating every curve of his spectacular face. In an instant, he was perched over me like the statue of an Adonis, freeing me from Blondie as he sent her sailing several feet across the parking lot. But there was no time to thank him, to pray at his alter. Within seconds, she was back on her feet, coming at us again.

“Trace, behind you!” I warned as I watched Bobby rush him from the other side, his knife outstretched.

Trace turned at the last moment and grunted as Bobby made contact with his torso. I couldn’t tell if he’d been punched or stabbed. Panicked, I began crawling towards him but was yanked back by my hair before I could reach them.

Blondie had but one goal and that was to drag me back to that van, with or without Bobby’s help. Fingers entwined in my hair, she dragged me mercilessly as I kicked the air in vain.

“Get off me, you psycho!” I roared through furious tears. All I wanted to do was claw her eyes out with my bare hands. And in that moment, I was sure I could do it if given the chance.

“You’re only making this worse for yourself,” she snarled, ripping at my hair as she dragged me without mercy.

I felt a swell of fire tear through my body. It was fear and rage and panic merging into one big melting pot that had finally hit its boiling point.

I reached back for her arm and used it as a crutch to pull myself back up to my feet. Her hands came out at me again, flailing and desperate, but they never made contact with my body. I was in control now and I wasn’t even sure how I was doing it. With one stabbing look in her hollow eyes, I swung my fist into her face, hitting her square in the jaw. Before her eyes could steady themselves or register the impact, I swung again, knocking her out cold in one final strike.

I wasn’t sure how I’d managed to do it but I felt powerful in that moment, proud even.

Adrenalin coursing through me, I spun around and spotted Trace and Bobby still warring several feet away. Blood stains dotted both their shirts, but I couldn’t tell whose blood it was. Panic over took me at the thought of it being Trace’s, of him being hurt because of me—to save me.

Without thinking, I catapulted myself onto Bobby’s back and began pounding the side of his head with my fist. It was exactly the momentum Trace needed to gain the upper hand. In the blink of an eye, he had snatched the knife from Bobby and turned his weapon against him. But Bobby wasn’t giving up that easy.

He dipped me sideways just far enough so I’d loosen my grip on him and then launched me off his back.

I hit the concrete and bounced.

Within seconds, Trace and Bobby were back in position, ramming into each other again like two raging bulls. Their fists flying through the air, erupting against bone and muscle. I couldn’t bear to sit back and watch, to riskhissafety.

I wrestled myself back to my feet and rushed Bobby again, this time tearing and clawing away at his face, at his eyes, doing whatever I had to do to win this fight. To end it. But I didn’t have enough strength left inside me to make any kind of dent. He bent forward and tossed me off his back again, landing me hard against Trace’s body. Both of us went down in a tangle of limbs.

“Stay down,” he ordered, rolling me off his person before jumping back up to his feet.

Winded, I tried to get back up too but didn’t fair nearly as well as Trace did. I was just too tired, too dizzy. Everything was spinning out of control again.

I heard grunting and brash words, though they sounded as though they were coming from a distance—from some far away, long-since forgotten space in time.

And then blackness.

“Jemma? Jemma, open your eyes.”

I blinked several times before focusing in on the most stunning blue eyes I’d ever seen—pristine blue eyes ringed in rich, dark sapphires. Only one man could boast such beauty, such perfection. Somewhere in the hazy recess of my mind, I knew I could spend forever looking in those eyes and still never tire of their resplendent beauty.

“Are you okay?”

“What happened?” I asked, noting the thick gray clouds blooming behind Trace’s head. A part of me hoped, prayed, that it was all just a bad dream. But I knew better.

“We have to go—now. Can you walk?”

I held onto his arm as he pulled me up off the floor and immediately spotted the unconscious blond.

“Where’s the other one?” I looked around and found Bobby splayed out on the concrete, not too far from where we’d been fighting. He was down and bloodied, but still alive.

“We need to get out of here before they wake up. My car’s over there,” said Trace, ticking his head at his parked Mustang.

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