Page 35 of What Doesn't Kill Us

Never let the enemy speak.

The roaring in my ears increases, that hot iron rod digging further into my psyche. I bend over and dry heave, then I hear a tussle on the other side of the room.

I glance up and see Agatha being dragged away. She’s fighting the two men attempting to overpower her, but more join in, eliminating her efforts to get free.

Never let the enemy speak.

I see that fucker has shifted my vantage point on one side, giving me a bigger opening in which to make him stop talking.

Darius is speaking to him, and then they’re exchanging infuriated words, with their faces reddening in rage, spittle flying, and curses booming. Two men come out and pull Darius back, keeping him from putting his hands on that fucker who’s still talking. Darius struggles, and more men come out to restrain him, rendering him immobile—a chained beast.

Slowly, I stand, my hand pulling out the pistol I keep hidden on my ankle, gripping it firmly as I rise to my full height.

Breathe.

Just breathe.

That fucker is laughing. I don’t know what he’s saying, but the look on Dare’s face is nothing less than murderous, and he struggles even harder. I see Lilith out of the corner of my eye as she slowly eases closer to me, and it appears as if the group of men on the other side of the room have yet to notice she’s there.

I don’t want to believe any of the words that have fallen from his treacherous mouth, but there’s no missing the pained fire in Lilith’s eyes as she continues to edge closer to me. Beneath the rage, beneath the murderous glint in her eyes—there’s sadness.

That fucker laughs again, raising the gun in his hand and pointing it at me as his words suddenly become clear. “And now you can watch the fucking bitch die.”

Never let the enemy speak.

I don’t have time to think. I raise my gun with my steady hand at the same time he raises his, and I squeeze the trigger, mentally bracing myself for the blast and the kick.

Click.

I pull the hammer back again and pull the trigger. Click.

His eyes light up as he points his gun at me, throwing his head back and laughing, the pure glee behind it making my skin crawl as his lips move again.

Agatha is shouting from one side, and Darius is shouting from the other, both struggling against the groups of men holding them back and still, that fucker’s lips are moving.

Never let the enemy speak.

I growl deep in my chest, the vibrations tickling the hot iron rod that continues to stir my brain, and I scream, “Shut up!”

I pull back the hammer and squeeze the trigger in quick succession.

Click. Click. Click.

Boom.

My unfortunately timed game of Russian roulette has my last squeeze of the trigger letting loose like a cannon, and now that fucker is not talking. He’s frowning.

His eyes narrow, and he’s still pointing his gun at me, and I give no fucks as I see the blood blooming on his white shirt. I’m sure the smile on my face can only be described as a self-satisfied, evil grin, and as those warm tingles shoot up my spine into the back of my skull, I laugh.

But then all hell breaks loose.

For a moment, I’m frozen, unable to move, but then the next thing I know, I’m knocked to the side as bullets rain down. Everyone’s shouting, screaming, and cursing, the metallic smell of gun smoke, fear, and rage swirling in the air.

The wind is knocked out of me from the force of being knocked down onto the concrete floor. Pain rips through my side, and a heaviness drapes over my body, so I lay there for a few moments, eyes closed, in a daze.

Slowly, the fog in my brain dissipates, as does the screaming, shouting, and cursing, until finally, all I hear is the whir of a fan, the rumble of a train, and water dripping.

My side aches relentlessly, and the weight on top of me takes what’s left of my pained breath. I peel my eyes open, and I stare up at the shadowed ceilings. The lights blink at me. The fans turning in a slow rotation, almost mocking me.

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