Page 111 of Mayhem

I swing it open, but there’s no one behind it. Just an empty room.

We continue down the hall, clearing the building. As I move toward the end of the hall, I look left, seeing someone standing there with his gun up. I fire a couple of rapid shots before I’m out. Instead of taking the time to load the next magazine, I toss the gun at him, catching him off guard. I follow the path of my gun, disarming him before reaching around and snapping his neck.

Picking up my gun, I switch out the magazine, continuing down the hall toward where I last saw Willow.

Finally getting to the room, I take a deep breath, rounding the corner. What I see is enough to make my heart stop.

Blood. A ton of blood all over the floor.

The only good thing is that I don’t see one body, but that means it most likely was Willow’s. Especially since a majority of it is below where she was hanging.

I sweep the room, bile rising to my throat when I see several tools lying on a table, one of which is already bloody.

“Clear, we need to keep moving,” Nate says from behind me.

“Nice of you to show up after we took care of the bulk of the mess,” I snap.

He sees it for what it is, though. I’ve never been good at processing emotions. I tend to shove them down until I explode, usually using my fists to release the pressure instead of my words.

Lately, I use Willow. She provides me relief where there is none.

I make my way back out of the room, moving down the halls. At the end, we have a choice to go right or left. Nate indicates that he will go left, so I go right.

As we separate, George and his crew follow me while Hernando’s crew follows Nate. The longer we walk and find nothing, the more nervous we become.

I hear some shots coming from behind us, but I ignore them.

Nate can handle himself.

Then I hear it. I hear her voice.

“If you are going to take a shot at the queen, you better not miss.”

I don’t know what happens next, but by the time I round the corner, she’s lying on the ground, her eyes closed.

Next to her, Bruce lies in a puddle of his own blood, knife still sticking out of his neck. I kneel as George’s team surrounds us, offering us cover.

“Willow? Willow, baby, I need you to open your eyes. Can you hear me?” I ask as I stare at her blood soaked clothes.

When she doesn’t move, I curse, feeling her for wounds.

Starting at her head, I feel for any punctures or broken bones, moving my hands down her neck and arms. When I get to her stomach, I pull back, unable to withhold the anger any longer as her blood covers my hands.

I growl, glaring at the marks crisscrossing her body, permanently scarring her.

I shake my hands out, carefully picking her up into my arms.

“We need to get her to a hospital now.”

“Hospital? How are we going to explain this?” George asks.

“I don’t fucking care,” I roar. “I will not let her die. Now clear the way.”

George doesn’t hesitate. He leads his team down the hall, assigning one of them to stand in front of me and Willow as a shield.

Once we get closer to the front of the building, the gunshots cease. Leaving a deafening silence. All I can hear are my own breaths mixed in with the shallow breaths Willow is letting out.

“Clear,” I hear from ahead.

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