Page 117 of Wicked Duty
Self-preservation steers my brain away from all the ways that could have gone wrong. “Smart thinking,” I say instead. “Now, let’s tie him up and gag him so we can get the hell out of here.”
Once we restrain him to the best of our ability using both curtain cords and the bra I sacrifice to create a makeshift gag, we creep to the door and listen.
All quiet. No one’s sounding the alarm. No shouting.
I close my eyes and shudder. Maybe luck really is on our side.
Fear wars with courage as I brave a peek into the hallway. Nothing as far as the eye can see. I jerk my chin at the weapon in Heather’s hand. “Do you think you’ll be able to use that?”
She stares at the gun as if she forgot she even had it. “I don’t know. Will you be able to?—”
“Yes.” I pluck the gun from her grip. If it’s us versus them, I’ll pull that trigger in a heartbeat.
With me in the lead, we edge into the corridor.
“Do you know how to get out?” Heather whispers. “I was too scared to notice anything.”
I’m glad I paid attention to the floor plan on the way in. “I think so.”
Carpet muffles our steps as I retrace my original path, pausing every so often to listen. The nerves writhing in my stomach compound the closer we get to the front door.
We’re maybe halfway to salvation when muted shouts from different parts of the sprawling house erupt.
The commotion distracts me so much that I don’t realize someone snuck up behind us until Heather screams.
Gun extended, I whirl and sprint back into the hall.
I skid into the corridor as the guard throws Heather against the wall. He yanks out his gun and points the barrel at me.
The blood freezes in my veins.
Shit. Someone clearly didn’t get Viktor’s memo.
My finger jerks, and I pull the trigger multiple times, in rapid succession.
Red blossoms on the man’s face and shirt before he wobbles and collapses to the floor.
I race for Heather, who’s cowering against the wall. “Are you okay?”
Before she can reply, another guard pops into view. “Drop your gun, or she’s dead.” He points his weapon directly at Heather’s head.
I consider my options, realize they all suck, and slowly lower the gun.
The guttural roar of a man’s voice barrels down the hallway from behind me. “Lucy, get down!”
Bullets whiz by, the nearest sluicing just over my head as my body instinctively obeys the order and drops to the ground.
The guard spits out a pained grunt. His gun hits the carpet.
I forget how to breathe. That voice…surely it couldn’t be…
Time slows when a figure dives through my periphery and sprints forward. The faint scent of cedar and vanilla permeates the air.
Callum!
He darts past me, firing his outstretched gun.
Another bullet nails the guard in the shoulder and chest. The man staggers back three steps before falling.
