Page 143 of Creed

His fingers bite into my arm as he wrenches me back, and I scream as he slams me down on the table. I fight him as my life depends on it. But he’s stronger and intent on his purpose, and he rips the front of my shirt in half. I bite and claw at him as he tries to get my pants down.

My leg gets free. I try to kick him away, to create a small bit of space between us to escape his mauling and pawing hands thatare intent on getting my pants down. But he catches my ankle and spreads my legs. I scream in a mix of terror and fury as he laughs like a demon straight from hell.

Suddenly, his attention is pulled from me, and he rears back and spins. Severyn is there and throat-punches him. His choking, gagging noise is music to my ears as I scramble back from him and wipe my tears.

Severyn has a knife—I have no idea where from—and she jumps back as Salome pulls a blade from his holster strapped across his chest and swings-slash-lunges at her. She steps back and is pinned against the counter. She doesn't panic, though, and leans back to kick the knife out of Salome’s hand. Her first kick doesn’t accomplish that, but she whips her leg up again with a vicious snap, and the knife goes flying. He doesn’t hesitate and attacks her instantly.

I watch in fascinated terror as Severyn fights him like she was born doing hand-to-hand combat. They crash around the small room, grappling for the knife. I want to help her, but I don’t know how without getting in her way. I see the discarded knife across the room but can’t get to it because they’re fighting in the small space between.

Salome pins Severyn against the wall, one hand going for the knife, the other trying to gouge out her eye. He grips her wrist, twisting it viciously, and she has to go with the movement; otherwise, her wrist would snap. That’s enough to give him the advantage, and he wins the knife back.

Severyn doesn’t concede defeat, nor does she falter in her next attack. She grips his wrist, pushes it down, and twists them away from the wall, then she headbutts him like a total fucking badass. Adjusting her body as he staggers back, she grips both hands on his rigid arm and uses it as a fulcrum to swing herself up onto his shoulders, pulling his arm up as she goes.

Salome staggers backward, and they crash to the floor. Severyn flips forward so she isn’t pinned underneath him, and she lands on top of him. His eyes are wide as he lies there, stunned and unmoving.

At first, I think Salome is winded. Severyn pushes back and up, and my panic rushes forth when I see the exposed skin of her shoulders from her halter romper covered in blood.

“No,” I whisper, stumbling toward her.

But then, through my panicked shock, I see the embedded knife in Salome’s throat. I may be a horrible person, but a bubble of hysterical, relieved laughter wells within me.

Severyn looks shell-shocked that she’s killed him, and she looks at me.

She’s bloody and shaking. I'm shaking and clutching my shredded shirt together.

But we’re both okay…

For now.

She shakes her shock off and pats Salome down, looking for other weapons. We aren’t out of danger yet. She doesn't find any other weapons on Salome, and I hurry forward, stepping over the thankfully dead son of a bitch, and grab the knife she kicked out of his hand. She pulls the other knife from Salome’s neck, making a sickening, wet, suctioned sound, and jumps back from the swell of blood.

She fists Salome’s knife and eyes the other one in my hand. “Swing and stab first, no questions.”

I nod. “What’s the plan?”

“We need to get to the floor above us. Stay close to me.”

Relief flutters through me as I realize her communication device is still intact, and she’s probably getting updates or directions from her team.

However, from the sound of the shouts and running above, there are a lot of bad guys up there.

“You… you’ve done this before?”

She eyes me. “Not this exact scenario, but yes.”

“Okay.” My voice shakes, and I lift my chin, channeling some of Severyn’s badassness. Trusting this songwriter-musician—who’s clearly so much more than that—with my life. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Shouts come from above as we exit the room, and I stay close behind Severyn as we cautiously climb the stairs.

She pauses at the top to check the deck for threats, then motions to me. We exit the stairwell and follow a curved walkway on the outside perimeter of the boat.

The night is silent and black as the stalled yacht bobs on the waves, and men continue to shout. A shudder runs through me when I hear my father snarling. If they catch us, we’ll be better off dead.

Swing and stab first, no questions.

I grip the knife tighter as we silently creep along to I-have-no-idea-where, but hopefully, Creed and Severyn’s team are waiting for us.

A large, illuminated window appears on the left, and Severyn stops. She crouches low, checking inside the room through the window. She stays low and motions for me to do the same as we quickly pass.

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