Page 15 of Romania
“Again, you two don’t have to help,” I told Cal and Jenny.
Cal snorted. “You’re not doing this on your own.”
“Cal’s right. The others don’t have any skills in fighting like us. I know we’re not anywhere near as good as you, but we can help,” Jenny said.
“Thanks, guys.”
Iola was with the other captives, huddled closer to the back of the shipping container with the torch off so they wouldn’t be seen when the doors opened.
Movement outside had settled, and the ship was no longer swaying in the ocean, so we were already docked. It was just a waiting game now.
I hated waiting.
It was boring.
I wanted to move. To make waves so we could get out of here and be around the ones we loved. My family would be going crazy.
Hell, it really wouldn’t surprise me if they were out there waiting for us or had gotten someone to come help us escape.
Still, I wouldn’t sit around and wait to be saved. I’d do everything I could to make sure all of us were okay in the end.
I heard voices outside the doors.
“Shhh,” I called.
They opened with a creak and clang. Five masked guards with two captives appeared.
Two men.
They were shoved inside, and a guard I didn’t recognise said something before he walked off. The new men huddled close to the side of the container, and another masked man was about to close the doors.
I couldn’t lose this chance. Starting forward, I called, “Hey, hi, hello. Can I use the toilet, pretty please? I really need to go, and I don’t want to pee in here.” As I approached with Cal and Jenny, one of the kidnapped men pressed the younger one back against the wall to stand in front of him. Protecting him. I smiled in reassurance.
“Stop. No break,” a guard barked, pointing his gun my way. “Stay back,” he warned.
Jenny and Cal stepped out of the shadows and stopped behind me.
Using my thumb, I pointed over my shoulder to my friends and walked closer. “I know it’s early for a toilet break, but we really gotta go. We’ll be good.”
Before he could respond, I rushed him.
In one fluid move, I shot my arm out to grab his wrist. With a twist of my body, I spun him around, using his momentum against him. I slammed my foot into his back and sent him stumbling straight into Cal and Jenny, who were ready for him. I trusted that they could take care of him while I moved on.
Like the Flash—at least I liked to think so—I charged the remaining two guards.
“Stop! I’ll shoot,” one of them shouted, and I grinned at the panic edging his voice.
Only I didn’t even pause as I sprang at him, climbing his body like a jungle gym—one foot on his thigh, the other on his chest. Then I snapped my leg around his neck, and with a powerful arch of my back, I flipped him off his feet and drove him into the metal floor. He hit the ground hard, choking and flailing as I cinched my leg tighter around his throat like a vice.
The last masked guard took a step forward with his gun trembling in his hands.
I almost laughed at his fear of little old me, but I kept it locked inside. “I don’t want to shoot you,” I told him calmly. “Drop your weapon.”
“Get off him! Stand down!” he yelled back.
Shit. His finger tightened on the trigger.
The man under me thrashed wildly—clawing, slapping at my thigh, his face reddening.
