30
Patrena
When you have experienced the live-action version of being trapped in a fight zone with a Vallin man, you become convinced rather quickly that they were capable of anything. Mecca had told me stories about why they called Arjen “Loud.” Having an eyewitness account of how Khane had earned the nickname “The Kannibal” left an impression forever tattooed on your brainstem. The sight of Tywin stomping a man’s head clean off his shoulders was a video that could be used to scare criminals straight.
My gaze spanned the area of the safe room before I shook my head at the three huddled around the surveillance monitor. I was convinced that four walls and a vaulted door wasn’t enough to keep a Vallin man out.
However, I had always been a lot more resourceful than I let on, and in this case sought to find a way to lend the men a hand with the vault door. The woman sat in wide-eyed uncertainty while the men paced, sensing that they were not safe.
“Can I make a suggestion?” I asked no one in particular. The drugs had released my mind, and I could feel surges of energy pulsing through my limbs. No one replied or even acknowledged that I had spoken.
“If you want to leave this building alive, I suggest you leave now. Either the ones coming are going to kill you or I’m going to do it.”
“Is that so?” the taller man questioned, stepping closer with his arms folded over his chest. They had haphazardly re-strapped me, leaving the straps slack, and I gladly milked the weakened state they were keeping me in for all it was worth. They were too stressed about what was happening inside the building to notice how much time had passed since they had last drugged me.
“Despite what you’ve done to me, I’m aiming to be the better person and save your lives. You need to get out of this building now before it’s too late,” I stated, letting myself sag and my words register in a low and lazy tone.
The light in the woman’s eyes sparked before she lifted her gaze from mine and put it on the door. Her mind was made up. When she stood to take her first step…
Boom!
The building shook in reaction to whatever had detonated inside of it. The blast would attract attention from the outside, but it also gave the three with me a reason to run. They had no idea that running wasn’t going to matter, but I wasn’t giving them another warning. All I needed was for one to be spooked enough to open that door from the inside.
“Fuck this,” the woman said, resuming her trek to the door.
“Wait!” the taller man yelled, right on her heels.
“They may be right outside that door. Do you want to let the hell that’s going on out there in here?” he questioned.
She pointed at the monitor. “The hall’s empty.”
“I would take my chances running, if I were you,” I encouraged, unable to hide a smile.
“You need to shut the fuck up! It’s because of you that we have a bunch of fucking thugs storming the building!” the taller of the two men shouted, aiming his aggression and fear at me.
“This coming from a man who was pumping me full of drugs and willing to cut me into pieces to find what he was searching for?”
He cut his eyes at me before turning his sharp gaze on the woman.
“Don’t open that door. It’ll be a mistake.”
The shorter man hadn’t moved away from my side. With all of his attention focused on the two arguing at the door, I easily drew the blade from my granny panties.
They hadn’t even noticed yet that I had cut my hands loose and was holding on to the black straps versus them holding my wrist the whole time we had been in the safe room. The shorter man shook his head at the other two arguing at the door, his eyes wide and laced with fear.
“I don’t think you should open—”
I swiped the scalpel against his jugular vein so fast and hard that he failed to finish his sentence. He didn’t respond to the sting of the gash until blood was running down his neck like it was going to a better place. Dumbfounded, he glanced down at his wet chest before his eyes crept up to meet mine, swimming in their sockets.
His trembling hand lifted to his neck, stopping and restarting its movement, like his brain had trouble processing his intended actions. His throat expelled a continuous clucking sound he had no control over.
Fear-frozen, he couldn’t do anything but grip his neck in an attempt to stop the rapid blood flow. His eyes were stuck wide, the whites on full display as he glared at the scalpel in my hand. I didn’t waste any time using the bloody blade to cut my feet free.
The dying man’s guttural sounds called the attention of the others before his body crumpled to the floor in a dramatic fall like he’d fainted. I was already on the move when the woman began punching in the code that would open the door.
The other man stalked in my direction, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the syringe he kept there. His head kept swiveling back and forth between me and the man on the floor bleeding to death while I continued taking steps back until my back bumped the wall. The woman was so distraught that she keyed the wrong code into the door and was giving it a second try.
She glanced back at the monitor and breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed that a guard was approaching. Only, I didn’t believe for one second that he was one of their men. The taller man was a few feet away now, reaching out to make an attempt to plunge that needle into me.