Page 77 of Silent Schemes
Sienna smiles, sharp and real. “Auditor.”
That does something to him.
He wavers. “You can tell your boss he’ll get his cut. We just need the week.”
“No,” I say. “You’re done. Tonight, or never.”
That’s when the first one moves.
I’d have been disappointed if he hadn’t.
The man to my right lunges, going for a choke.
Sienna lets him grab me—on purpose, I realize a second later—so she can slam her elbow into his temple, hard.
He drops like a sack of meat.
I barely have to shift to avoid the second guy, who swings a fist at my face.
It’s clumsy.
I catch his wrist, torque it back, and let the bone snap.
He howls, tries to claw at my eyes, but I headbutt him and he collapses, stunned.
Dominic’s smarter than both, but not by much.
He pulls a blade from behind the ledgers, low and quick, meant to open my flesh and leave me on the floor.
But Sienna’s already moving.
She vaults over the table, lands cat-quiet, and drives her boot into his knee.
He buckles, knife wavering, but manages a desperate upward jab.
For a second, I think he’ll catch her in the gut, but Sienna pivots, lets the blade skitter along her hip, and slams the heel of her palm into his nose.
Cartilage crunches.
Blood fans out.
He’s not done.
Even with his nose leaking, he swings the knife in a tight, mean arc aimed at my ribs.
This time, I take it—let it bite through the fabric, shallow but stinging—because the real play is behind me: the first man, not as unconscious as I thought, is crawling for a gun in the file cabinet.
Sienna finishes Dominic with a stab to the hand, pinning him to the table.
She grabs the knife, yanks it free, and hurls it into the back of the crawling man’s thigh.
He screams, flails, then goes still.
She’s impressive.
I hardly had to do a damn thing. Her family trained her well.
I take a breath, check the wound on my ribs.
