Page 29 of Captured By the Scaled Outlaw
The leader’s voice wanes, feeble squeaks and wet gurgling pouring from his mouth until he falls silent. A sea of red coats everything within his radius, mounds of curling intestines draping from their source.
My jaw hangs open at the display of strength. If I hadn’t known it was a man before, I certainly wouldn’t have been able to guess by what remains.
Lowell bellows a hearty laugh over deafening screams, gunshots, and frantic footsteps pounding the earth. He flicks the lingering halves of the leader’s body to the side, the others freezing in place with frightened expressions.
Seizing their paralyzed fear, Lowell slices and swipes at the onlookers tauntingly, his elongated movements appearing like dancing. He’s clearly enjoying himself, stalking the men while flashing his teeth asthey trip and fall over one another to try and flee.
I drop my gaze, sloppily trying to load another bolt into my bow amidst the commotion.
I can’t just sit here and gawk, I have to make myself useful.
From what I saw, before, I’m certain that there are others hiding along the top of the base. For all I know, they have more of that corrosive sludge in their arsenal. Any exposure to the mystery substance by either myself or Lowell could result in a grave injury.
The corners of my mouth crack with dryness as I fumble with the crossbow bolt, unable to pull the string back into place. My hands are shaking, and my heart jumps into my throat. I’m more scared than I expected to be.
When the string snaps forward, I curse. I haven’t had to use the cocking stirrup since I was a child, but I’m grateful I kept it attached despite my withering pride—
“Hands up!” someone shouts.
I freeze. A tall, lanky criminal with a shaved head points the barrel of his gun at me, a crossbow bolt poking out his chest.
I press my lips together upon seeing that I missed his heart.
Shit.
“Hand up!” he shouts louder than the first time.
I lift my hands to the sky, per his demand, subtly sweeping the ground for any useful tools to relieve me of the situation. There’s only sand and more sand. But thankfully, that’s all I need.
“Throw the bow to the side,” he demands, jerking his weapon to illustrate the request.
With my bow cradled in both hands, I toss it dramatically to the side. It thuds to the ground, the metal and wood coated in dust.
The criminal flinches from the sound, giving me my desired opening.
I kick sand up into his face, a deafening shot ringing out the moment my foot collides with the ground. A bullet whips past my face, my earsbuzzing with a stinging pain. Warm liquid dribbles down my cheek, a small cut radiating heat.
Jumping to my feet, the heel of my palm strikes the criminal’s wrist to force his grip open. His eyes widen when his hand goes limp, the firearm flopping to the side.
“Dammit!” he grunts, stunned. Distressed, he throws a sloppy punch that I dodge with ease. In a parry, my fist connects with his cheekbone as he tries to shrink from his failed swing, knocking him on his ass.
He stares up at me, dazed, muttering curses as I approach him. I use the heel of my boot to stomp on the bolt in his chest, grinding it in as deep as it’ll go. I’m not thrilled by the squishing sound it makes, and I’m thankful my hearing remains impaired to spare me the sound of his cracking ribs as the tip of the bolt splinters them in two.
He cries out in pain with each inch the bolt sinks farther, gritting his teeth as he claws at the backs of my knees. I yelp when my legs suddenly buckle, falling on my chest to the ground, knocking the wind out of me.
As I regain my breath, the criminal sifts through the sand searching for his gun. Unwilling to let him shoot me again, I roll over onto my back with a wheeze, feeling for my crossbow. My eyes fill with painful tears as dust clings to the inside of my mouth and throat, the bow lost in a blur of shapes and colors. I have to find it before he finds his firearm.
The silken grains slip through my fingers without the presence of wood and metal, fingers flexing and digging as rocks prick my skin. I blink rapidly, excess tears clearing my vision from obstruction.
It has to be close. I didn’t drop it far—
As my tears dry, I see the glint of a metal firearm pointed at me, a clicking noise rattling through my skull. I try to swallow, but all I taste is gritty dirt and dust. My lips are cracked and bloodied, my blood running cold despite the oppressive sun as I stare down the barrel.
“You fucking bitch! I’ll kill you!” the criminal gurgles through the crimson that fills his mouth. His wrist sags as he tries to support it with his other hand, body wobbling back and forth. He holds my gaze, fingers twitching over the trigger.
I stare at him blankly, adrenaline prickling my skin. “I wouldn’t have awarded you the same hesitation,” I sneer.
He furrows his brows, hand squeezing the hilt of the gun with his last bit of strength left.
