Page 40 of Rusty's Command

Each step forward felt like a reckless betrayal of her own survival instincts . . . instincts she’d sharpened in self-defense classes. But there was no time to hesitate. Rusty needed her to create this opening. Pickle and the woman depended on her.

Her heart thundered against her ribs, a frantic, relentless drumbeat as she pushed through the fear threatening to paralyze her. Forcing herself into the performance of her life, she coaxed the guards just a few paces away from Rusty’s hiding spot.

When she turned back to face them, her cheeks burned from the effort of holding her smile. It felt crooked and strained, but she prayed it was convincing enough. Meanwhile, the sickening churn of adrenaline and terror in her stomach told her how close she was to the edge.

As the guards’ attention remained fixed on her, Rusty emerged from the shadows behind them, his movements eerily silent as he crept up to the men. Soda was beside him with her eyes locked onto the armed men like a predator.

Over one of the men’s shoulders, Sienna’s gaze met Rusty’s eyes in a fleeting, electric moment. The air thickened with anticipation.

“So, did you see Rex?” she asked. Her voice trembled as she struggled to maintain the facade. “He’s a little white and tan terrier?” She batted her eyelashes, certain her façade was slipping.

Rusty’s gaze burned with a steely resolve, and his eyes flared with a cold, calculating intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. The smile on her face faltered, a flicker with genuine fear betraying her carefully constructed calm.

Time seemed to slow as the world narrowed to this single, pivotal moment.

A woman’s terrified scream pierced the air, echoing down the hallway.

“What on earth?” Sienna bulged her eyes, trying to block out the screams.

Rusty seized the guard from behind, spinning him around. His elbow snapped up into the man’s throat. And as the guard dropped, clutching his neck in silent agony, Soda pounced and pinned him to the ground.

The second guard snapped toward Rusty, jerking his gun upward.

Rusty shoved the weapon aside, darted behind him, and shoved his arm around the guard’s neck. A strangled gasp escaped the guard’s lips. His eyes bulged with shock and terror as his face flushed crimson, then a horrifying purple.

Sienna’s mind recoiled. She’d seen the deadly chokehold demonstrated in the safe confines of her self-defense training classes. But never like this. This was real. Brutal. Terrifying.

Somewhere across the room, Viktor barked orders that were indistinguishable, but his tone was unmistakable—cold, calculating, and ruthless.

The guard clawed at Rusty’s arm, but his struggle grew weaker, and his body sagged as Rusty’s iron grip constricted his airway, turning his mind and body to mush. The guard’s body went limp, and Rusty released him, letting him crumple to the ground.

Rusty turned back to the first man, still pinned beneath Soda’s snarling form. He snapped his fingers, and Soda leaped off the man’s chest. Without hesitation, Rusty delivered a swift, merciless punch to the guard’s temple, knocking him out cold.

The entire takedown had been a blur of violence that lasted mere seconds. Sienna flinched at the raw, brutal efficiency and a wave of nausea churned through her.

“Please.” A faint cry reached her ears. “Don’t. No! Help!”

Her stomach twisted.Oh, shit. Is that the woman who saved Pickle?

She spun toward center stage and scanned the area around it, but saw no one.

“Please. No.” The voice, trembling with desperation, carried a soft accent—Korean, maybe Chinese. The anguish in it was gut-wrenching.

Rusty grabbed the man he’d choked by the armpits and dragged him down the hallway toward an open doorway. Soda clamped her teeth onto the sleeve of the second guard, hauling him along behind Rusty.

Sienna stood frozen in the hallway, her mind reeling from the violence she’d just witnessed.

From inside the room Rusty had entered, scuffling noises erupted, followed by muffled cries. Furniture crashed over, and a sharp shriek pierced the air.

“No! Don’t! Please don’t hurt me!” A man’s voice, raw with terror, echoed out the doorway.

The pleas stopped abruptly, cutting off with a chilling, suffocating silence.

Sienna’s heart thundered against her ribs. Her gaze locked on the open doorway as her breath hitched in her throat.

Is he dead?

Her steely resolve began to crack, splintering under the weight of her spiraling thoughts. Her legs trembled, threatening to buckle, but fear anchored her upright, forcing her to keep standing.

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