Whoever they are, they’ll have to get through me if they want to get to Amara.
Within five minutes I’m rounding the corner of the street and see them gathered outside her apartment, a van parked at the side of the road. It’s not the same one as before, I’m pretty sure they would have disposed of that just in case, but Amara wasn’t wrong when she said they were going to kidnap her. I hang back a little, kicking myself right now that I didn’t keep watching while she finished, or I would have seen them arrive and could have been here sooner. How frightened must she be in there all alone?
It makes me angry just to think of her cowering while they shout in at her.
“Amara, come on outside, would you? Don’t make me break this door down.” One of them, standing at the front of another two, seems to be the ringleader and despite the fact that he was wearing a mask I think I recognize something in his voice and appearance that’s reminiscent of the guy in the van the other day.
His two buddies are big and bald and virtually identical in looks and nonchalance about what’s going on. I’m not small, either in height or muscle mass, but I’m pretty sure they could have been pro wrestlers if they’d chosen a different path in life. They’re carrying baseball bats, but I don’t care. I’m already baring my teeth as a low growl starts in the pit of my stomach, and I break into a run.
“We’re not going to hurt you, kiddo, you know that. Well, not unless we have to. Orders are orders, that’s the way the world works.”
The growl grows in intensity as I run, becoming a cry of pure rage as the curtain comes down and I lose whatever was left of my civility. I didn’t even know this side of me existed until I met Amara. Right now, I’m nothing but a savage, bent on protecting what’s mine at all costs. I don’t care about the lives of the men I’m about to throw down with, or my own. All I care about is her. My Amara. My girl.
My one.
The thug nearest me turns my way as he hears me coming, but he’s too late to react. My pipe is raised in my arms like some sort of Medieval broadsword and I swing it hard at his head. The clang of metal against bone ringing out in the moonlight as he falls at my feet, but there’s no time to take a breath.
His twin is already heading my way, spittle foaming at his mouth as he looks down at his doppelganger, then up to me. He’s got his baseball bat raised, but I duck his first swing so easily it almost makes me laugh a humorless laugh. They might be big but they’re slow and clumsy. I’m back up a second later, landing a swift blow to his gut. His face crumples as he winces with pain, but I’m in no mood to let up.
The end of the metal pipe works surprisingly well as a thrusting weapon as I pop it fast into his knee, making him collapse back and fall to the floor, and I turn my attention to the guy on the steps of Amara’s building.
“Whoa there, big feller,” he says, raising his hands. “No need for things to get ugly, is there?” He pulls back one side of his jacket to flash me the black metal of the gun sitting there. “I don’t want to use this and I don’t think you want me to, right?”
I growl, swiping back the hair from my forehead and glancing at the guys on the ground. They’re writhing in agony, but they won’t have any permanent injuries, more’s the pity.
“Step away from the door, then we’ll talk,” I tell him.
“Can’t do that. I have orders to bring her to her father. Do you know who that is?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. You’ve got until the count of three. One…”
He laughs. “I’m the one with the gun. You think you can take me on with a… What even is that? Some sort of toilet fitting?”
“Two.” I step forward, fed up of counting already. The rage is building and I need inside that building. I need to check on Amara. “Three.”
“Whoa, whoa, all right, look I’m stepping away. Christ, man, you’re fucking scary, you know that? We sure could use someone like you if you’re ever—” He falls silent as I raise the metal pipe, jumping down the steps and backing away on the sidewalk as his two henchmen rise on unsteady feet, clearly the worse for wear. “Whatever. But this ain’t over, you do understand that, right?”
“It’s over because I say it’s over. You go tell your boss, if he wants to argue about that he can come over here himself. Otherwise, next time I’m not going to be so accommodating.”