Page 58 of Queen of Blades

Rummaging through her things, she found her purple-handled knife. Holding the safety button, she flicked her wrist, and the blade sprang free. Nodding, she felt better with it in her hand. As she exited the bedroom, she contemplated if it would be wise to head out the back door and go for the storm shelter. Did she have the time? Would they see her?

The sound of their heavy boots clomping onto the porch gave her the answer. There was no time. She had to either find a place to hide inside or fight. All her other options were moot.

Scanning the house, Harper considered which spot would give her the best advantage.

If they were smart, they’d split up—cut off her exit route. She had to plan as though they knew what they were doing. Since she couldn’t be in two places at once, Harper decided she should cover the front door and go from there.

She jumped onto the arm of the couch, bent her knees, and had her knife firm in her hand, ready to pounce. There were a thousand and one locks on the doors. One of the front windows was blocked by the fake air-conditioning unit. How did they plan on getting in?

The glass from the front window, the one without the air-conditioning unit, crashed onto the floor in a thousand pieces, and a gloved paw of a hand came through it. Behind her, a loud boom sounded. Someone had shot through the back door. They had divided to conquer.

Smart, but bad for her.

Swallowing hard, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she did her best to keep her balance as she waited for the large bald man to climb through the window. Turning halfway, she kept an eye on the kitchen with her knife in hand, waiting for Henley man to come charging in.

Testing her grip, she rolled her fingers around the handle as footsteps thudded heavily through the kitchen. With a groan, Baldy thumped onto the floor.

Shouting at the top of her lungs, she jumped from the couch, holding the blade high, and pounced onto the man breaking into the front of the house. He looked up just in time for her to land on him. The two of them toppled back until he hit the wall.

“Fucking bitch!” he shouted as he lifted his arms and wrapped them around her.

Taking advantage of his vulnerability, she swung the blade, dug it into his side, and twisted it. Instinctively, he jerked, bellowed in pain, and shoved her. Blood gushed over her fingers, but she somehow kept her grip on the handle of her knife as she flew back.

Stumbling, trying to find her balance, she slammed into a wall of flesh.Fuck. Henley.Why did the house have to be so fucking small? If it only had ten extra feet, she would’ve had more time to recover.

Doing her best to think quickly, her adrenaline pumping and her heart racing, she smashed her heel down on his foot. He howled, and she turned to face him, placed her hands on his shoulders, and kneed him right in the balls.

Wriggling out of his hold as he doubled over, she headed for the bedroom and slammed the door shut, locking it. It only took a few seconds for her to slide the dresser in front of it. She had little time.

Scrambling through the pile of belongings, she found her purse. From it, she pulled what looked like two tubes of lipstick. One she stuck in her bra. Using the remaining lipstick, she wrote on the mirror. Just as she finished, the door to the room splintered.

“Quit fighting,” Henley ordered through the hole.

Without looking back, she wrenched open the window and threw herself out of it.

Unfortunately, she landed beside a very pale Baldy. His meaty fist collided with her jaw the moment she stood, and she fell back against the house. The back of her head slammed into the siding, and her vision blurred.

“Got her!” he shouted.

“Fuck off,” she spat.

With a sweep of his foot, he took her legs out from under her. Pain ricocheted up from her tailbone as she landed on the ground. Excruciatingly, her head throbbed as she tried to get to her feet. Baldy wasn’t about to let that happen. He pulled his foot back and kicked her hard as hell square in the gut. The air left her lungs in a whoosh.

“Stay still, you goddamn cunt.”

Stars danced around her vision as she gasped for breath. Henley joined them and rested the muzzle of his gun against her temple. “Play nice or you’re fucking dead.”

Swallowing hard, she stilled.

“Get in the car.”

32

Paul

FuckingDiesel.

Paul’s vision was tinged red. He curled his fingers into fists, every muscle in his body so tight that he vibrated. He ground his teeth so hard, he feared he might crack them.

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