Page 175 of Desperate Actions

The factory looms ahead, its skeletal frame barely holding together. Rusted. Crumbling.

But it won’t be the only thing falling apart tonight.

I don’t hesitate.

I reach beneath my seat and pull out my favorite weapon—a custom tactical knife, black as death, sharp as a scalpel.

The blade is curved and I smile. It’s an empty smile. Cause to me, this knife looks like death. And to Santos it might as well be the Grim Reaper’s scythe cutting him down.

My fingers curl around the handle.

A promise. A death sentence.

Then I turn to my father-in-law.

Our eyes meet.

His rage is a living thing, simmering beneath his skin. But mine?

Mine is already an inferno.

“You ready?” he asks, his voice a razor-sharp edge.

Angel Fury’s lips curl back into something dark.

Lethal.

His fingers flex, cracking his knuckles, as if he’s already picturing the carnage.

“I was born ready,” I answer.

The others grab their guns, and maybe a grenade—then all four of us move.

And hell follows.

Chapter 40-Aella

Santos is staring me down, the cold steel of the gun biting into my forehead.

I am frozen like a deer in headlights.

I don’t blink at all and my eyes burn

This is it. I’m going to die.

My heart beats wildly in my chest, hammering against my ribs, but my mind slows.

Like the moment before impact, the stretch of time between the snap of a trigger and the bullet finding its home.

I think of Sammy. Of his touch. His voice. His love.

When I don’t think I can take the torture of waiting anymore, an explosion blinds and deafens me temporarily—and all hell breaks loose.

Andrea’s scream cuts through the air like a siren, raw and terrified.

The doors explode open.

Santos spins, his grip loosening just enough for me to stumble back.

---