Page 28 of Tactical Lies

It landed with a small thud that caught all three men’s attention.

“What was that?” one of the make-out partners asked, sounding scared. Afraid because he didn't want to get caught in the middle of a sex act with another man when what he should be afraid of was his impending death.

“I’ll check it out,” the lookout assured them and took off in Connor’s direction.

Once the man was within striking distance, Connor pounced.

A snap of his neck, and another dead body dropped.

Dragging the man further behind the tent so he wouldn't be immediately noticeable, he moved closer to where the other two men were likely still making out, secure in the false belief that their lookout had things handled.

Well, he didn't.

And they were both about to die.

“Oof,” he called out, trying to match the tone and cadence to that of the man he’d just killed.

“Did you hear that?” one of the men asked.

“Sounds like Dior needs help,” the other replied.

“Think someone saw us?” the first asked.

The second didn't answer but the two men split up as they searched for their friend. One headed in his direction, the other back the way he’d come.

In Becca’s direction.

Right as he was approaching his prey, about to pounce and take out another threat to Becca’s life, the man who had headed toward where his girl was hiding spoke.

“What are you doing out here?”

The voice made his target turn, catching sight of him just as he was about to strike.

“Hey! You shouldn’t be free,” the man snapped, managing to dodge a blow Connor aimed at his head.

With no time to waste, fear for Becca, fear that the entire camp would be woken and their chance at escape thwarted, Connor launched at the man, aiming low this time and managing to tackle the man to the ground. His opponent put up a fight, and a few blows were exchanged before Connor managed to lock a hand around the man’s neck. Aiming to cut off blood supply not his breath, it didn't take long for the man to pass out. Then it was a simple snap of his neck and he was on his feet and heading toward Becca.

There were no other sounds, and he didn't like that.

Why hadn't the man alerted the camp to the escaping woman in their midst?

Why had there been no sounds of a struggle?

Orders were to kill Becca, but surely the man wouldn't decide to do it on his own without all of them getting to play with her first.

When he rounded the tent, he saw the answers to his questions.

Becca was right where he’d left her, huddled on the ground, but the man who had found her lay at her feet in the middle of a growing puddle of blood. In her hand, Becca clutched the knife he’d given her.

The knife that had saved her life.

Because his girl had just killed to protect herself.

Pride and sorrow warred within him. Connor was so proud that his girl had been able to do what she needed to do, no matter how afraid she must be, but his heart also broke with the knowledge that she had just changed in a way that was irrevocable.

There was no time to dwell on it though. They were far from safe and if they wanted to stand a chance, they had to get out of there.

“Moonlight, it’s me,” he said softly as he approached, not wanting to startle her. “You did so good, Becca, but let me take the knife now.”

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