Page 60 of Iron Roses

I catch his arm mid-swing, grip like iron.

My forehead slams into his nose. It caves. Blood bursts.

He stumbles. I ram him into the wall. His blood smears the concrete.

He slumps, legs giving.

A shout behind me.

I pivot. A man with a pistol. Shaky. Hesitating.

His hands tremble. I grab the chair leg off the floor, hurl it into his gut before he fires. He doubles over.

I reach him in three steps.

My elbow crushes his jaw. He spins—my hand grabs the back of his collar and yanks him down onto my knee.

His skull connects. He doesn’t get up.

There’s another scream—closer.

A bigger man this time. He swings with a pipe, fury in his face. I take the hit across my shoulder. Pain flares white. I don’t stop.

I tackle him, drive him to the floor. The pipe clatters.

I mount him, fists raining down. His teeth scatter across the stone. His face becomes pulp.

His fingers twitch. I reach for the pipe.

And end it.

I stand in the center, blood dripping from my gloves, breath steady.

Five bodies surround me.

Behind me, Lorenzo wipes his blade with practiced calm. Allegra holsters her weapon, jaw tight, eyes locked on me.

Around us weapons are lowered and they step back muttering.

Lorenzo scoffs as I turn towards the exit. Allegra follows us.

Our footsteps echo down the tunnel, boots sticking slightly with each step on the blood-slicked floor.

****

The car smells of sweat, gunpowder, and blood.

The leather sticks to my back. Lorenzo’s breathing is shallow beside me, one hand gripping the wheel, knuckles white. Allegra sits behind him, legs crossed, a fresh gash across her shoulder bleeding into her coat.

The engine hums like it’s trying not to remember what just happened.

My right hand lifts and I sign to her.

Who. Reported. Oreste?

Two fingers. Twist. Point to her.

Allegra exhales hard through her nose. “Anonymous drop,” she says, eyes fixed out the window. “Dead drop account. VPN masked. No name. No pattern.”

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