Page 91 of Power Surge

I cry out like his words are a knife to my heart. “We don't know,” I finally manage. My knees wobble as I force myself to stand. Shoulders rounded, I suck in deep gulps of air to keep from passing out.

A set of old, fragile hands grips my shoulders with surprising strength.

“Then pull yourself together and go do whatever needs to be done to get her back.”

I meet his narrowed eyes and nod.

Rolling my shoulders, I scan the room with new purpose and race from one side to the other, piling a small arsenal of guns on the bed as I go. After concealing three, I secure the shoulder harness with the other two guns and rush out the door. Forgoing the elevator, I race down the stairs, the pounding of my boots against the concrete steps echoing in the still stairwell.

Determination and life-taking rage course through my body, driving me faster and faster. I burst through the back door, which slams against the brick before swinging closed. My nostrils flare with each deep breath as I pause to take in the alley. This is the way they would've left just an hour ago. Maybe if I’m lucky, there's evidence of someone waiting, watching from the shadows for the perfect moment to attack.

At the end of the alley, I glance both ways before turning left and bolting toward the shrill sirens and the glow of flashing lights cutting through the night just a few blocks over.

I will find her.

She will be alive.

And then I'll kill the motherfucking bastard who dared to mess with my girl.

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