Page 45 of Rusty's Command

The darkness was his advantage—move undetected, strike without warning.

But he wasn’t alone. He had Sienna to protect, and those young victims, and they had to find Pickle. That changed everything. “Sienna,” he whispered again, keeping his voice low and urgent.

Where is she?

Thundering boots sounded outside, growing louder by the second. He chanced a peek out of the doorway.

Fuck! Bobbing beams confirmed two armed guards were charging toward the server room.

His mind raced with tactical options, which were too fucking narrow for his liking. A surprise retaliation was his best bet, and if he kept it silent, it could buy him time to figure out his next move.

He pulled his knife from the sheath on his vest and gripped the handle, ready to take out the first man to charge through the door before he knew what hit him.

He drilled his focus onto the thundering footsteps, judging how long he had.Ten seconds.

A hand brushed against his back. Sienna! He shoved her away from him with his free hand.

“Get back,” he growled, his voice low and deadly.

He didn’t dare look around, he needed to focus on the attack. His hand squeezed around his knife handle, determined to both protect Sienna and eliminate these ruthless bastards.

The flashlights closed in, their stark beams carving through the darkness. Those flashlights painted targets on their chests. Stupid fuckers. A cold smile spread across his lips. Hopefully, they were all as dumb as this pair.

Behind him, Sienna’s harsh breaths gave life to the shadows, a desperate rhythm that echoed the pounding of his heart. Likea ticking time bomb, every second counted, and every strike he made needed to be swift and accurate.

The first asshole barged through the doorway. Rusty moved with deadly precision, and his knife flashed in the beam of light in a swift and silent blow that struck the first man down. Before he even knew what hit him, the guard crumpled to the ground, his wide eyes frozen in shock as his flashlight spun across the floor, casting bouncing shadows across the walls.

Rusty’s movements were lethal and economical. As he readied to take on the second man, Sienna’s gasps echoed through the darkness behind him, sapping his focus way too much.

He locked eyes on the doorway, honing his senses. The next guard charged into the room without any recon, a reckless move that spoke of desperation and inexperience. Rusty lunged, aiming for the bastard’s throat. The man was quick, dodging to the side with a speed that belied his bulk.

The guard yanked up his gun, knocking the knife from Rusty’s grip. The blade skittered across a desk and vanished.

Fuck! Rusty jabbed the guy’s throat. When he buckled forward, Rusty twisted the guard’s wrist until the gun clattered to the floor. The guard stepped back, raising his fists, and his face contorted with rage.

“Don’t do it!” Rusty urged.

The brute grinned before lunging at Rusty, hitting him with a surprise jab shot that connected with Rusty’s jaw, sending a burst of pain through his teeth.

Soda’s snarls echoed through the darkness. Her eyes glowed like lanterns in the dim light as she moved in to protect her master. Rusty raised a hand, his palm facing her, and she froze, her ears perked up in response to his silent command. He couldn’t risk the asshole screaming and drawing attention to therest of his team. He indicated to Soda to heel, and as she trotted behind him, her eyes never left the brute.

Blood pooled over Rusty’s tongue, the metallic taste igniting a firestorm of fury within him. He spat it out and locked eyes on the brute. “Last warning, asshole,” he growled.

The guard, fueled by bravado or stupidity, snapped his neck side to side with a sneer twisting his face.

Fucking idiot.

With a swift, deadly motion, Rusty lunged, his fists flying in a flurry of precision punches. The guard stumbled back, his arms flailing wildly as he tried to defend himself, but Rusty was relentless . . . and fucking angry.

Rusty moved on autopilot. Every punch was a calculated strike, aimed at the brute’s most vulnerable spots. Throat. Solar plexus. Kidneys. Nose. Rusty closed his hands around the brute’s throat. His fingers dug deep into his flesh. The brute’s eyes bulged, and his face turned red as Rusty’s grip tightened.

He clawed at Rusty’s arms and his nails scraped against the fabric of his sleeves. Rusty squeezed harder.

As the brute’s struggles weakened, Rusty’s gaze flicked to Sienna. They locked eyes and the only sound was the brute’s labored breathing. Then, with a final, crushing squeeze, the body went limp.

Rusty released his grip, and as he scanned the darkness with his senses still on high alert, his gaze landed on Sienna again. She was illuminated by the faint glow of a flashlight, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if trying to shield her mind from the brutality of what was happening.

Fuck. Rusty’s gut twisted with anger and regret. She shouldn’t be exposed to this kind of violence and ugliness.

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