Page 28 of Rusty's Command

Rusty took another step.

The gun wavered slightly as his focus shifted to Rusty. “Stay back!”

Rusty forced himself to stay still, even as every muscle screamed to tear the man apart. He’d promised himself years ago that he would never let anyone hurt Sienna. That promise might have gotten buried under two decades of regret and distance, but watching her tremble in this bastard’s grip brought it roaring back to life.

“For Christ’s sake, shoot the dog!” the man in Soda’s grip screamed. “Just shoot the fucking?—”

His words dissolved into a gurgling cry as Soda gave another warning crush.

With each whimper from her prey, Soda’s jaws tightened, and her massive shoulders bunched, ready to apply more force as blood darkened her muzzle. The man in her grip stopped struggling, but his eyes were wild with panic.

Sienna’s eyes darted to Soda then back to Rusty. Her breathing grew slower, more deliberate, and when her hands dropped from the gunman’s forearm, Rusty thought it was defeat. But then he caught the subtle shift in her stance, the way her feet positioned for optimal balance and her weight settled back just slightly.

His gut clenched with recognition. This wasn’t the naïve, carefree teenager he’d pissed off all those years ago. This was a woman who’d learned to defend herself, and she was coiling to strike.

When she clenched her jaw, Rusty gave her an almost imperceptible nod and tensed his muscles, ready to unleash two decades of combat training.

In one fluid motion, she drove her heel into the arch of the asshole’s foot while simultaneously ramming her elbow deep into his solar plexus. He gasped, and Pickle shot from the darkness like a furry missile, clamping razor-sharp teeth into his ankle.

As the bastard howled and kicked wildly at the dog, Sienna twisted in his hold, bit his forearm, and wrenched herself free. Rusty charged at him, crossing the distance in two powerful strides, lowering his shoulder like a battering ram and dove at the bastard. The impact drove them both against the tunnel wall as they grappled for the weapon. The gun exploded with a deafening boom as the bullet sparked off stone and whined into darkness.

Pickle held on like a pit bull, savaging the man’s ankle, and the man’s screams echoed off the cave walls as he tried to kick the enraged terrier away. Using the distraction, Rusty slammed the bastard’s wrist against the floor, and the gun skittered across stone, vanishing into the shadows.

Grabbing the bastard’s hair, Rusty rammed his head against the tunnel floor, but the brute was too strong, and they rolled on the ground, trading brutal blows. An elbow caught Rusty’s temple and stars exploded behind his eyes. He countered with a headbutt that crunched cartilage, and blood sprayed from the man’s nose as he howled his fury.

Rusty drove his elbow into the man’s throat but caught a fist to his jaw. Pain speared straight into his brain and stars exploded behind his eyes as copper flooded his mouth.

Growling, he hammered blows into the asshole’s ribs. They rolled over the ground, trading savage punches that echoed off the tunnel walls. The bastard fought with military precision, every strike calculated, despite Pickle still tearing into his ankle like a possessed demon.

With each landed blow, Rusty darted his gaze through the darkness, searching for Sienna, praying to a God he’d stopped believing in years ago that the bullet hadn’t found her.

A punch slammed into his kidneys, and as he bucked against the white-hot agony, he caught a glimpse of Sienna in theshadows. Got her! She was doubled over against the curved wall, gulping air as she clutched her throat.

Thank Christ she’s alive.

“Sienna! Run!” The words tore from his raw throat as he barely blocked a strike aimed at his temple.

But she didn’t run. Instead, she lunged toward them, reaching for Pickle who was still latched onto the man’s leg like a steel trap. The asshole’s boot caught Sienna’s hip with a sickening thud, sending her flying. Her cry of pain cut through Rusty like a blade, igniting something primal in his chest and filling his veins with murderous rage.

Pickle released his grip and darted to her side, his fur bristling as he barked like mad.

“Sienna! Fucking run!” Blood sprayed from Rusty’s lips as he roared the words.

She scooped up Pickle, and defiance blazed in her eyes despite her obvious pain. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Run!”

With rage fueling him, he slammed his forehead into the asshole’s broken nose, feeling cartilage splinter beneath the impact. The man’s head cracked against stone with a wet thud, eyes glazing for a crucial second. In that moment of clarity, Rusty caught Sienna’s shadow disappearing around the cave bend, her footsteps echoing off the stone walls.

Thank Christ she’d listened.

He drove his fist into the bastard’s throat, crushing his windpipe with savage satisfaction. The man bucked beneath him, gasping and clawing at Rusty’s face, but adrenaline dulled the pain.

A metallic glint caught his peripheral vision—the gun, half-hidden under a rocky outcrop, its barrel reflecting in the beam of the last flashlight.

Time to finish this shit.

As he lunged for the weapon, the man moved, too. Their shoulders slammed together as they scrambled across the stone floor, each impact sending shards of agony through Rusty’s battered body. The bastard’s boot connected with his ribs, and something cracked with an audible snap. White-hot pain exploded through Rusty’s chest, and he howled.

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