Page 74 of Deadly Rival

My knees give way. I dangle between the men holding me up until the moving tip finally, finally stops somewhere on my cheek. The searing agony in my eye consumes everything.

“Drop him.” The hands let go, and I collapse to the floor. My ribs scream as I land, but even that is muted, sucked into the vortex in my eye. I can’t see. I’m blind.

Get a grip. You still have one eye. Get a grip.

It doesn’t work. The panic might as well be alive. It rips and rages through me, shredding my thoughts.

“Boss. Chopper.”

The urgent words just make it through the haze. Chopper. How?

“Ah. Looks like your friends found you. Shame. I was having fun. Time to wrap things up, though.”

A gun cocks right in front of me. This is it. I’m going to die on my fucking knees at Harrison Calder’s feet.

No. Just no.

With the last of my strength, I lunge forward. I slam into Harrison, and the yelp he lets out as he crashes to the floor is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. I can’t see, but I don’t need to. I raise my fist and bring it down. It hits something soft, and Harrison grunts.

Gunfire blasts out, a deafening barrage of automatic fire. Something—the windows, maybe—shatter. When the sound cuts out, my ears ring so badly I can’t hear anything else. Deaf as well as blind. Awesome.

Underneath me, Harrison shifts. Good. The only sense I need right now is touch. I slam my fist down again. Again. Again. Sometimes I hit squashy skin. A couple of times, bone. Didn’t he have a gun? Maybe he lost it when he fell. In any case, all I care about is bringing my fist down, over and over, until a hand grips my wrist.

“Mate.” I can just make out Jacob’s voice through the ringing. “Mate, you can stop now. He’s out. I’ll take care of it. You need the medic.”

I want to kill him myself. But I’m blind, and all the pain my rage drowned out is coming back. My eye. My fucking eye. I can’t shoot a gun if I can’t see.

“Do it.”

There’s no whimper from Harrison, and he’s not moving. I must have knocked him out. Go me. Hands help me movebackward, and a single shot rings out, muffled in my damaged ears. It’s done.

Like a puppet with its strings cut, I go limp.

The journey back is a whirl. Someone with a calm voice wraps my damaged eye in a bandage, and I’m lifted onto a stretcher. An injection brings with it a blissful wave of peace, pushing the pain to the background as I float. The chopper sends ripples through my body, and Jacob keeps up a steady chatter as we fly.

“Not long now, mate. The docs will sort you out. Wait till Quinn sees you with an eye patch. You’ll never hear the end of the fucking pirate jokes.”

Ah, British humor. Why let mutilation get in the way of a good laugh?

By the time we land, I’m barely conscious. More bumping. A bright light in my face. “We need to operate immediately.”

Nothing.

***

Consciousness creeps back, and I wish it wouldn’t. It’s nice here, in the dark. No pain. No memories. Just a cozy black blanket protecting me from the world.

It doesn’t last, though. Little by little, it all comes back. The pain. The helplessness. The feel of someone damaging me beyond repair. I raise a shaky hand to my face and find a tight bandage over my left eye. The right is puffy and sore.

I take a deep breath, which hurts my ribs, and open my right eye. Light stabs me, but it’s beautiful. At least that one still works. Thank fuck. I let out a shuddering, relieved breath as Jacob says, “Welcome back.”

Gradually, I adjust to the light enough that I can actually see. I’m in Medical, and my bed is angled up slightly so I can see the room. Jacob and Gabriel sit at either side of my bed. No Kendrick. No Gilda guards ready to take me into custody. That has to be a plus. Right?

“Ophelia?” My voice croaks.

Jacob answers. “She’s with the girls. She was pretty upset, so Quinn took her to Hadrian’s lab to distract her while we waited for you to wake up.”

Upset. Of course. Her brother. We killed her brother. He was a bastard, but he was her flesh and blood.

---