Page 37 of Avenging Devil: Part 2

He looks as surprised to see us as we are to see him. Both he and I react fast, but he’s the one with the gun. Stopping mid-stride, I’ve no option but to put up my hands.

We’ve no chance. We’re going to be captured. I’ll die, and Saffie will be tortured for the rest of her life. Remembering our pact made moments earlier, I give her the only instruction I can—the one chance to make it out of this life one way or another.

“Run, Saffie!” Inside I’m screaming, knowing her chances are next to none.

I try. I fucking try. The next few seconds seem to happen in slow motion. I launch myself at him, she runs, he aims, I deflect his shot and it goes wide. He tosses me off and takes aim again.

“No!” Uncaring about the danger, I twist my body in midair, my one thought to stop him shooting her long enough to give her a chance to get away.

But this man is fast, military trained if I’m not mistaken, and not one of the slow overweight members I’d seen in the club. He tackles me. I fight back, him trying to keep and me trying to gain possession of the gun. He kicks and hits my prosthesis. It flies from under me, bringing me down. Then he pistol-whips me for good measure.

He fires before I can recover. To my horror, Saffie falls to the ground and lies unmoving.

Stunned, I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Saffie’s gone. I try to tell myself it’s what she wanted, but that’s no consolation. My brain’s having difficulty processing what’s in front of my eyes, failing to acknowledge I’ve lost my chance to hold her, to touch her, to kiss her and make love. I’ll never speak to her again for the rest of my probably short life. The shorter the better as far as I’m concerned. Maybe there is an afterlife, and we can be together.

I’ve failed. Fuck, how I’ve failed. Instead of saving her, she’s dying or dead. Dazed and distraught, I lie stunned, quickly losing my chance at moving when the gunman drops his two-hundred-and-fifty-pound weight onto my chest.

Kneeling on me, holding his pistol to my head, he yells for help.

I hear multiple pairs of boots running toward us, and an exclamation from a voice I recognise. Croak, one of the men who’d been talking outside the room we were hiding in and the man who’d killed Kid.

Shading his eyes from the sun with his hand, he gazes toward Saffie who’d managed to run a fair distance away. “Is she dead, Slinger?” he asks, disinterestedly.

The man kneeling on me, Slinger, shrugs. “I aimed for the head.”

He sounds so confident of his marksmanship that that, together with the fact I hadn’t seen her moving, takes away my last hope. Oh Saffie. At least she’s at peace. No one can hurt her now. And it’s better than her lying injured as no one seems to be checking.

Next, he turns his attention to me. His eyes narrow, then he shouts to someone else. “Go check the bitch’s room. Find Slit, now.” Then he looks down at me. “You leave him alive, you filthy motherfucker?” When I don’t answer, he shrugs. “Well, I guess we’ll soon find out.” His eyes go to the top of the fire escape where some of his brothers have just climbed up. After a moment he straightens, and just like Croak had previously done, shields his eyes from the sun.

“Slit’s dead,” a strangled voice cries out.

Slinger looks down at me, his face contorted with rage. “That’s your fucking death warrant, nigger.”

That was never a question. What matters more is Saffie. “Sapphire.” I use the name they know her by. “Please check her.” I still can’t accept that she’s gone. If she had, wouldn’t my own heart stop beating? I hang on to the thought that she’s injured instead, and hopefully not fatally. But if so, someone needs to help.

“I went for a fuckin’ head shot. I never miss.” Slinger scoffs, brimming with confidence and no remorse that he shot an unarmed woman and is leaving her for dead.

A new voice enters the equation. It’s their prez. “Leave the bitch. I’m fed up to the teeth with her. She’s the VP’s. He’ll have to deal with her when he gets back. If by a slim chance, given she was shot by Slinger, she’s alive, she won’t get far, and certainly won’t reach the perimeter. You, on the other hand.” He kicks viciously at my leg. “You’ve got a fuckin’ lot to answer for, Boy.” Then to Slinger, Knife says, “Get him up and bring him along.”

The man pinning me down slowly gets off, dragging me up with one arm. As I’m vertical, blood starts to trickle from a deep cut over my eyes. But they don’t care I’m half blinded as someone else grabs my other arm.

I dig in my heel and try to balance on the prosthesis that’s been kicked out of true, but I can’t stop them from starting to drag me away.

Croak hangs back. He seems fascinated with Saffie. “Just in case, Prez, want me to let the dogs out?”

Knife scoffs. “Can’t hurt. If she is, they’ll bring her down if she tries to get away.”

No, no, no, and no.Half of me hopes Saffie’s dead and out of this misery already, but the other half won’t give up on the hope that she’s still alive. But in any event, she’s been shot. She’ll have no chance unless she gets medical help right now. And they’re setting dogs on her.

I struggle, futilely trying to get free if only to run over to her and see if she’s in the land of the living, but they’re equally determined not to set me free. Twisting my head shows me she’s lying face down, but there’s no detectable movement, and she’s making no sound.

Inside, a rage rushes through me, but the men holding me are too strong. I bellow her name, no longer having to pretend she means nothing to me.

“Saaaffffiiiieeee!”

With my head thrown back, my eyes are caught by an object glinting in the sun. I look back down immediately, my brain recognising it as some kind of drone, and not wanting to draw attention to it.

Would this club have one patrolling its own ground? Possibly it’s one of Grit’s toys, but unlikely. If it was, Knife could have used it to check on Saffie. What’s more likely to be on the cards is that it’s Devils coming to rescue me.

But they’re too fucking late. Although I want to deny it, Saffie is gone.

I heard the shot, saw her fall, and since then, there’s been no movement.

Fuck. My Saffie. My old lady.

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