There was no way they were putting those guns down. I all but demanded it with my eyes even as their fingers slipped closer to the triggers, a movement noticed by some around them because it was met with cocking of their guns.
Somewhere to the side of the lot, a car door slammed, the noise echoing into the partially enclosed space, making everyone jolt, making everyone look around.
Well, not everyone.
Just his men.
Just his untrained group of street thugs.
We moved.
My adrenaline proved a gift, giving me the quick reflexes I needed to ram JB in the rib while twisting the gun away from my head, letting me duck down and away from his hold, running as fast as my legs could carry me as the shooting started, throwing myself behind the beam JB had first appeared from, praying Roderick and Cam had been able to find some kind of shelter too. That the bullets hitting, met with cries and curses were only JB's men, not mine.
"Yo stupid bitch, you're going to pay for that," JB screamed as he joined me behind the beam, gun raised as I squeezed the trigger of my own, my aim off thanks to a shaking hand, grazing his ear, taking just enough off of it to hurt, to piss him off further.
He was faster than I expected, his street fighting style more unpredictable to the martial arts I was used to, knocking my gun out of my hand, landing an uppercut to my chin that was just too far to one side to knock me out like it could have with full force, sending my body slamming back against the beam.
Pain ricocheted through my body as my leg kicked out, knocking his gun away as well.
When it came to upper hands, I had no idea who had it now that we were both unarmed.
All I knew was we were both hot.
Him with his hurt male ego, his pride that could never survive getting his ass kicked by a woman.
And me, well, it was all primal fear. Because I knew a bullet to my brain wasn't the worst thing that could happen to me in this parking garage.
No.
The worst thing would involve watching my men - and my only remaining form of protection - be brutally murdered, then have JB and his entire crew take turns with me before finally putting me out of my misery.
There were fates worse than death.
Women lived with their potential reality every time they stepped outside their homes. Hell, or even stayed inside them.
And I wasn't going to let that be my story.
I wasn't going to let them do that to me.
I would die first.
So when I went at JB it wasn't just with my ego, it was with my survival instinct, my unshakable determination to walk away from this with no new scars to speak of.
I barely registered each new pain - each hit, kick, slap, grab, graze sent through my body. I didn't know if my fingers or knuckles broke when they made contact.
I was in and out of my body at the same time, fighting for survival.
Blood flooded my mouth, sweat poured.
My body hit the hard cement ground, showing me the other side of the beam for the first time.
Bodies.
There were bodies.
And my eyes instinctively searched for those of my loved ones even as the sounds of bullets popping off flooded my ears and JB's shoe collided with my ribs.
And then something happened.
Something happened that - no matter how long I could be given to think up scenarios, I never could have predicted, never would have believed was possible.
A new figure moved into the scene.
A familiar one.
One with hair I knew.
Eyes I knew.
Hands I knew.
Except I had never seen like this.
With an AK slung around the chest, hands on the trigger, and bullets flying faster than an eye could keep track of.
Astrid.
But, no.
It couldn't have been Astrid.
Coming in.
Taking men down without even blinking.
Using a gun I had never trained her with.
Aiming better than even I could.
No.
It couldn't be Astrid.
I was hallucinating.
Dying.
Seeing shit right before like most people did.
Even as I thought that, everything went black.-RoderickBullets flew fucking everywhere.
There was no way to even see Liv through it as Cam and I flew apart, sought shelter as we aimed as best we could, tried to take out whoever was nearby.
A few bodies fell quickly, but didn't stay down.
Adrenaline could practically reanimate a fucker on his deathbed.
And these men rose again, reloading, looking for targets even as they bled all over the ground.
I could hear her.
Over the bullets when they let off enough to reload or seek targets.
Liv.
Crying out.
Cursing.
It was killing me not knowing what was happening to her, not being able to get to her.
My stomach twisted in knots as I rose up, taking aim, taking down one more of JB's men even as Cam rolled to a new position, coming up behind another.