Page 65 of Ruin Me
“I’m goingto kill this fucking asshole!” I roar, brushing glass off the top of my head from the shattered windscreen.
“Yeah, we’re going to have to survive this first,” Callum grits out as that Adam fucker fires off another shot that smashes through the bust windscreen, over our heads and cuts a path through the van’s back door.
“Jesus!”
“He’s a fucking cunt!” Harry says, clambering over Thayer to get into the back with Cal close behind. I don’t blame them. Sitting up front, they’re mere feet away from this mad fucker.
“He won’t kill us,” Callum states confidently. “I know him. He knows my dad. He wouldn’t…”
But his confidence doesn’t make me feel any better. Bullets don’t give a shit about who you know.
We all register the third and fourth blast, this one aimed to disable our front tyres.
“Fuck, that,” I mutter, already shoving open the side door, deciding I’ve had enough of this fucked up game of chicken.
“Come on!” I shout at the others as I hit the alleyway ground hard, rolling to soften the impact before springing to my feet. There’s no time for hesitation or fear; if we want Vogue back, it’s now or never.
I’m already reaching into my boot, fingers wrapping around the cool handle of my trusty knife. It’s a relic from my past, a constant reminder of where I’ve come from. It’s seen more action than most soldiers, and it might need to add another notch today. The gun is useless in the back of my pants after we ran out of ammo fighting the fucking Vipers. This is a shitshow.
The other three guys are out of the van in seconds, scattering like roaches when the lights come on. Adam’s eyes are tracking us, the barrel of his gun following suit. He isn’t hesitating; he isn’t doubting. His loyalty is clear, and it’s not to us.
“What’s the plan?” I whisper-shout to Callum, who’s crouching behind an overflowing skip with that fuck-me smirk playing on his lips. He’s too calm, and it pisses me off because Vogue is up there somewhere with Aaron, and we’re down here playing fucking hide-and-seek with the Hulk.
“We distract and disarm,” Callum whispers back as if it’s simple. As if we’re not about to dance with death. “This is a test. Nothing more. We survive, or we die. If we live, Vogue is ours, if not, well, she getsleft in Aaron’s hands. So it’s up to you assholes what you think is the better option.”
“Survive,” Harry says hastily, and not just for his own skin, but Vogue’s as well.
For me, there is nothing to think about. I will get to her or die trying, it’s that simple.
Thayer nods from his spot near an abandoned crate, already sliding out his shiny blade from under his jacket.
Without any more of a plan than knowing we have to survive, we move. I charge toward Adam, my blood boiling hot with a fury that could burn this whole damn city down. I can hear Cal and Harry behind me, their footsteps pounding on the concrete in a deadly rhythm.
Adam readies his gun for another shot, but Thayer is faster; he flings something—it glints silver in the air—and Adam’s shotgun clatters to the ground. A fucking throwing star.
“Good boy,” I murmur.
Adam chuckles and reaches behind him with both hands, drawing two knives that are playing at being swords.
“Fuck,” I growl, but keep moving.
Cal makes a bold move, diving forward and tackling him at the knees. The big man doesn’t even stumble; he’s solid like a tree trunk with an amused sneer plastered across his face. He swings one of his knives at Callum, but he rolls out of the way, fast as lightning.
“You’re gonna have to be quicker than that,” he taunts the behemoth.
Adam grunts but says nothing, turning with way more grace than I’d expect for a man of his size, swinging both knives in Harry’s direction, who was attempting to sneak up on him from behind.
“Yeah, this isn’t working,” I spit out and launch my blade at Adam, where it buries in his arm, but that’s about it.
He barely flinches, ripping it out and sneering in my direction.
I dodge one of Adam’s strikes, the blade whistling as it slices through the air. Harry’s fists are a blur as he launches a volley of punches that bounce off Adam like he’s made of stone. Callum is at his side again, bobbing and weaving like a shadow, looking for an opening.
“Thayer, any time now would be great!” I yell, ducking under another wide swing that could’ve taken my head off.
Thayer doesn’t reply immediately, but I catch the shimmer of something in the corner of my eye just before another throwing star embeds itself in Adam’s shoulder. He grunts this time, but the fucker still doesn’t go down.
“We need to disable him,” I say between gritted teeth, sweeping a leg at Adam’s ankles, but it’s like kicking a concrete block.
