Page 58 of Gunslinger Girl
She rolled out from behind the planter, came up on one knee, and fired.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
A heartbeat later she rolled back, bullets filling the space where she had been. She bit back a scream as a sudden, searing pain lanced through her calf. A red stain spread on the fabric of her pants.
One more assassin was dead. This time her aim had been better, the man’s left eye exploding in a telling spray of crimson. But her other shots had gone wide or hit armor. That left three and the stunned man, who might recover at any moment.
Pity swallowed the dry spit in her mouth and tried to tune out the throbbing pain in her leg. Staccato shots sounded. One of the remaining attackers was firing at the glass again, his partners covering him. As she watched, one pane gave way. Behind the desk, Beau’s gaze darted between the exits and Pity. Finally, it settled on her.
He raised his hand and signaled. Three targets.
She signaled back. Five bullets left.
His features tightened, but he tipped his head back toward the assassins. Chest tight, she nodded.
“Whatever you do,” she said to Sheridan, voice brittle with fear, “keep down until the shooting stops.”
“Pity.” His eyes pleaded with her. “You don’t need to do this.”
But she did. They were out of time.
The only thing left to do was to end things on their terms.
CHAPTER 19
Pity’s hand trembled with the weight of every missed shot as Beau began counting down with his fingers. Blood cascaded through her veins, alternating surges of ember hot and icy cold. She took a deep breath. Across the chasm of floor separating them, Beau looked as calm as a light snowfall.
Three.
Beau, who wasn’t injured. Who didn’t hesitate and didn’t miss.
Two.
Who only needed a few moments.
Pity grabbed the jagged lip of the planter and stood. “Hey!”
She fired double-handed as two of the remaining men snapped toward her.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Her first two bullets found their mark, dropping one assassin before he could get a shot off. The third and fourth were less on target but caught the second man’s rifle, sending it flying from his hands.
It was the last of the three attackers she knew she’d be too slow for. He spun as his companions faltered, rifle barrel finding Pity as she prayed the seconds she’d bought would be enough.
Fortunately, a sliver of time was as good as an hour to Beau. He charged from behind the desk, firing.
A handful of shots and it was over.
Pity fell to her knees, hands still clenched around her revolvers, waiting for the new pain to come. When it didn’t—when the only blood she found on her person was from the first wound—she started to shake.
“Pity?”
As Sheridan spoke, the elevator dinged. Santino and half a dozen Tin Men spilled out, guns raised.
“It’s about time!” Beau snarled.
“The alarm just came through.” Wide-eyed, Santino took in the scene.
