Page 46 of Rusty's Command

But this was just the beginning. More scumbags were going to meet the same fate.

Rusty shoved the brute’s body aside, his movements economical and detached as he stood, chest heaving with exhaustion and his jaw throbbing with pain. He was furious that the guard had got him and pissed off that he’d underestimated the man’s speed. His anger simmered in a low burn that threatened to sear his brain.

He glared down at the brute’s lifeless body. “I warned you,” he muttered. “Fucking idiot.”

Turning to Sienna, he found her in the dim light, frozen like a statue.

Her jaw hung slack, her eyes wide with shock as they flicked from the bodies to him. “Oh my god.” The words were barely a whisper, and her voice trembled as if weighed down. Her gaze locked with his, searching—maybe for answers, maybe to understand who he really was.

Rusty felt the unspoken question in her expression. She’d finally seen him for what he truly was. Not the man she used to know, but the soldier—the killer—shaped by decades of conflict, military training and survival.

A pang of uncertainty shot through him, sharp yet familiar.

What if she doesn’t approve of the man I’ve become?

He clenched his fists, shoving the thought aside. It didn’t matter what she thought. He’d kill every last one of these bastards if it meant keeping her alive.

And yet, despite his resolve, a dull ache seeped into his chest. If his actions repulsed her and she saw a monster instead of the man she once trusted . . .

No. He couldn’t afford to care. Shoving the bullshit aside, he grabbed his knife and the assholes’ weapons, slotting them into his tactical vest. He turned off one flashlight and grabbed the other.

“What the fuck is going on?” Wang’s voice boomed from outside the doorway, his rage and frustration palpable. “Get those bastards!”

Adrenaline surged through Rusty’s veins. Time to move. They had to get out of the server room before those bastards came looking for their comrades. He turned to Sienna. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice low and deadly as he grabbed her hand. He turned off the light, plunging them back into darkness. “Soda, heel.”

Soda padded silently to his side, nuzzling her nose to his hand.

Gripping Sienna’s palm to his, he pulled her to the doorway and peered around the edge, straining to see in the darkness. The dim glow of a single flashlight cast eerie shadows on the walls, making it seem like the darkness itself was moving. Women’s sniffles and pounding boots echoed off the marble floors in a sickening soundtrack that made it impossible to track the sources of the sounds.

He could just make out the ghostly outline of the marble stairway in the dim glow. A woman’s shriek bounced all over the place, and Sienna jolted. A man barked orders, and when a woman yelled back at him, her defiance convinced Rusty it was the Colombian woman who had saved Pickle.

His heart went out to her.

A new burst of chaos erupted from the darkness–women crying, men shouting.

This was their chance to move. Returning to the balcony above seemed like the best option—it offered a clearer view and the advantage of height.

Rusty leaned into Sienna’s ear. “We’re going back upstairs. Stay right beside me and do exactly as I say.”

“Okay,” she breathed.

He did a quick, sweeping scan of the darkness, searching for movement. Satisfied, he squeezed her hand. “Let’s go.” He pulled her into the hallway, and her fingers dug deep into his skin as they raced back to the stairs.

The blackness seemed to swallow them whole, obscuring everything. It was both a blessing and a curse—hiding them from their enemies but also making it impossible to see what was coming.

At the base of the stairs, Rusty pulled Sienna around the banister. “Go.”

As she flew up the stairs in tandem with Rusty, Soda slinked in front of them, taking point. One word, and she would take out any man who got in their way.

“Will somebody turn on the fucking lights!” Wang’s voice echoed up to them, shrill and unhinged.

Rusty smiled. They still hadn’t figured out what Sienna had done. Good.

Sienna tightened her grip on his hand and as they reached the top of the stairs, he pulled her along the corridor that skirted around the entire circular balcony. Soda’s panting was the only way he knew she was still there.

“Keep moving,” Rusty growled, scanning the area below, trying to see the tangos in the darkness.

Sienna’s breaths came in ragged gasps, and her hand trembled in Rusty’s grip, yet she kept pace with him. Her determination surprised the heck out of him. Many civilians would be a mess after what she’d been through, but not Sienna. She was strong. Rusty’s respect for her grew with every step.

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