Page 27 of Sadist

“What the hell was that?” I choked out, swiping at the air as if it would clear it. “Where is the car, O’Malley?”

“Over there,” he rasped, pointing toward a dim shape in the dust.

I staggered toward it, just making out the familiar license plate in the dust, the front half of it crushed under an upside-down SUV.

Shapes moved through the murk on the far side, a warm light flared, and a feminine scream rent the air as glass smashed.

Fire suddenly engulfed the inside of my car and the screaming became panicked.

“No!”

I lunged forward, fire already licking at the window closest to me.

A bottle flew through the air in front of me, smashing through the window and erupting in more flames as the screaming in the car reached a crescendo…then suddenly ceased.

I skidded to a stop just shy of the flames, the heat of them already overwhelming as I stared in horror, my mind sluggishly trying to make sense of what was unfolding in front of me. Rubble to my side crunched in warning, and I barely lifted my gun in time as one of the vagrants pulled a rifle from beneath his threadbare coat and aimed it at me. Blood exploded across the dusty slab of bridge behind him in a macabre splash of crimson on grey as my bullet took him between the eyes. I swung around as footsteps stumbled behind me, Zichen’s grime-streaked expression shocked as he took in the gruesome scene.

“You fucking imbecile,” I snarled at him, taking three long strides and swinging at him. He dodged, taking the butt of my gun to his collarbone rather than his temple, cursing loudly as he rounded on me.

“How was I meant to know it was a set up!” he barked. “Did you get her out?’

He wasn’t fast enough to dodge my next swing, and I connected solidly with his temple, dazing him long enough to get a grip on his neck and drag him toward the burning vehicle.

“Does it fucking look like I got her out?” I hissed in his ear, holding him close enough to the flames that the heat scorched my skin. “This is on you,you incompetent fuck, and Loxley is going to know it.”

I let him go with a shove, delivering a hard kick to his kidney that made him wretch into the dust as O’Malley lumbered into view, his phone to his ear.

“Move,” he snapped, as all around us more people began to emerge. In the distance, the faint wail of sirens began to rise over the din of death and panic. “Got an extraction meeting us at Fifth and Carlisle.”

I pointed at Zichen. “Take him, and get back to headquarters,” I said coldly, lights flickering behind my eyes. I blinked and wiped at them to try to clear my vision.

“What about you?” he called as I took a last look at the car, furious at myself for letting this happen. Ignoring O’Malley, I turned and ran, not caring if they got out before the sirens reached them, and not willing to risk drawing attention by staying together.

My phone buzzed in my back pocket before I had even made it two blocks, after lifting a hoodie from a clothesline that had been drying in a nearby front garden. I had the deep hood pulled up over my head, and the hem came down past mid-thigh and covered the blood and filth I was coated in enough to not draw too much attention. I was already seizing up, wincing as I reached to pull my phone out.

“What the fuck happened out there?”

I had never heard concern in Erryn’s voice before, and it took a moment for my sluggish brain to realize what the edge of panic in her voice was.

“You approved a fucking mutiny, Erryn,” I hissed. “What the hell were you thinking?’

“Zichen lodged a handover this morning that was signed off by you,” she said coldly. “I assumed you had it in hand.”

“Assumption really bit you in the arse this time because Vanguard never had any intention of getting his daughter back,” I said, anger making my words sharp. “That was an assassination, and if I hadn’t been steamrolled by Zichen trying to stroke his ego up the food chain, we wouldn’t be so royally fucked right now.”

There was a muffled curse on the other end of the line.

“That’s all you have to say?” I bit out.

“Get yourself to a medic,” she said, before the line went dead.

“I need you to stay in that bed, Lancaster.”

I gave the medic who had checked me over a dark look as I tugged my stolen hoodie on over the plethora of bandages I had been wrapped in. I had small cuts and grazes everywhere, and a concussion, but nothing I couldn’t recover from away from the clinical lights and uncomfortable slab that passed as a bed here.

“The other two?” I asked, picking up my weapon and phone.

“O’Malley has a fractured tibia that is being set as we speak. Zichen didn’t wait to be cleared to leave,” he said, frowning at me. “Look, you have a moderate concussion, I really must object?—”

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