Page 96 of Dominance

Clicking off and dropping my flashlight, I sidestep another swing from the guy waiting silently to my front right. Tap, tap. My muzzle flashes, showing me two more, at the end of the hall. Another crouching behind a crate, taking aim.

Dark.

Drop to my knee, pivot.

My palm slams down on the hand reaching for that gun in the same movement, sweeping my gun into his gut. Tap, tap.

I’m already moving, staying bent over, letting the crumpling bodies behind me cover my noise. No way the guy laying in wait expects me to close on him this fast.

Stop. Hold my breath.

“Stronzo…” he mutters, just on the other side of the crate, clattering for his flashlight.

Click.

“Boo.”

“Cazzo—” His scream is cut off by my knife in his throat; following through the stab, I lay him out flat on his back, scooping up his rifle. No sense leaving a good weapon. Not that I plan to spray bullets in confined quarters.

Last resorts, and all that.

More movement up ahead, lights blinking and reflecting from around the corner. And voices.

Way too many voices.

Taking a deep breath, I rise, cracking my neck.

Step, step. Pause.

From cover I peer around, once fast, then slower, lower.

Three more waiting for me at the junction.

This is taking too long.

“Oy!Vieni qui, ho bisogno di aiuto!”I pitch my voice down to mimic the guy I just killed, grunting in pain.

“Valdo?” a deep, gruff voice approaches.

I stay perfectly quiet. Perfectly still.

He steps around, blinking into the darkness. Second shadow gives away his partner. Third would stay behind to watch their back, guard Guiliano’s retreat.

Slash the throat, the knee, spin, step.

I throw out both of my arms, low, taking up as much space in the tight turn, blocking the second guy from raising his gun, keeping him between me and the one at the end of the hall.

“Ay!” he shouts, just before I put my forehead into his mouth, charging him backward. Recovering from the spray of blood bursting from his lips, his eyes widen as he hears the same thing I do. The cocking gun, the shout behind him. “No, no, no!”

He tries to shout it over his shoulder, to warn off his cohort.

Thanks for the body shield, fucker.

Momentum carries his body through, almost right into the shooter, forcing him back a step.

As soon as the body goes down, I leap. Straight forward.

Ceiling is a hair’s breadth away.

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