Page 50 of Victorious: Part 3
Fast.
And in the back of my mind, a thought worms its way through,Where the fuck is Hurricane?
Then, from the shadows, a blur darts, and as if conjured by sheer will, Hurricane appears. He’s not just wading through water, he’s driving five terrified women forward, one hand outstretched, the other waving them ahead. Soaked to the bone, blood streaking down his arm, and yet, his voice rings out like a damn battle cry.
“City, grab ’em! Get ’em out,” he shouts, his boots crashing through the rising tide.
He said he’d find the stragglers.
And the fucker always keeps his damn word.
The women stumble toward me, eyes wide, limbs shaking, but they’re moving, because he made them believe they could. I wave them forward, grabbing the closest by the waist and hoisting her up toward the ladder.
“C’mon, get your ass over here, Pres,” I shout, voice cracking with urgency. I catch sight of his wild grin flashing through the steam and chaos as he charges forward to join me.
But he doesn’t make it.
From above, a shadow drops, a fucking bird assassin, moving like a phantom.
She lands on his back with a shriek, blade already raised. It gleams under the flickering emergency lights, ready to carve. Before I can even shout his name, they crash beneath the water in a brutal tangle. A violent splash, then nothing but the roiling surface.
“Fuck!Hurricane!”I lunge forward, but a panicked woman grabs me, fingers clawing at my vest, using me like a foothold to climb. I nearly go under as she clambers toward her escape.
She’s desperate.
They all are.
I don’t blame her.
But it costs me precious seconds I don’t have.
By the time I tear free and stumble toward the fight, blood is already billowing into the water like red ink.
My stomach twists.
It’s impossible to tell who’s winning.
Then, suddenly, Hurricane breaks the surface. He’s gasping, his face pale, a knife buried in his side, but the bird floats to the top, limbs slack, her eyes wide in frozen surprise.
He took her out with nothing but his bare hands.
I stagger closer, my breath shaking. “Jesus, Pres… you scared the hell outta me.”
He coughs a wet, painful laugh. “Always like to keep things interestin’.” Then he groans, bracing against the wall. “Get the women… out. I’ll be there… in a sec… just need… to catch my… breath.”
“I’m coming, let me help you—” Hurricane holds up his hand to stop me.
“VP, it’syourjob to get those womenout. I just need… a second. Focus on the job… we came here to do.”
“I can do both. Help you andthem—”
“That’s an order,brother,”he demands, his expression serious as he leans against the wall, still trying to catch his breath.
I hesitate as Bayou pops his head down from above, peering at his twin. “Everything good?” he asks.
Hesitating, I nod, swallowing the dread trying to climb up my throat. The guilt is eating at me for thinking anything bad about Hurricane today. But he’s my president, and while I wanted him to dish out orders, the motherfucker just gave me one. I hesitate for a few seconds, grit my teeth, but then I turn and keep moving, working hard to get the last of the women out.
Just as Hurricane ordered.
