Page 171 of Beautifully Shattered
Rage ignites in my chest, and I snatch up my gun and fire at the Rebel crawling back towards me. The shot lands deadcentre, between his fucking eyes, painting the gravel with his brains.
Keeping my gun raised, I scan the smoke-choked space for the next threat.
No one is there. Just shifting shadows amongst the smoke. Voices yelling somewhere deep in the haze, every plan we had in place completely gone to shit.
“Abbey!” I bellow, staggering up as I slip my belt off and cinch it tight above the bullet wound, hissing through clenched teeth. “Angel!” I roar again, needing to hear her beautiful fucking voice.
But nothing comes. Just more gunfire. More screams. And more fucking chaos.
35
The sight of Donny Allen has the opposite effect on me as the last time I saw him.
It’s not fear this time. It’s raw, electric anticipation.
I’m ready for him, and from the flicker of panic flashing in his gaze when our eyes locked, he bloody knows it.
Donny bolts for another hangar. It’s not one of the ones we had planned to ambush, but the second he slips in through the access door, I know that’s exactly where I’m going.
I don’t have one of those fancy earpieces like Ringo and JD have, but I can’t risk Donny getting away while I waste time finding backup.
I’m ending this today.
I’m ending him, so Ican finally breathe again.
With a shaky grip, I wrench the door open, storming in with my gun raised high.
It’s dark, but not pitch black. There’s enough light filtering through the skylights to see the two light planes parked inside, and the bottom of Donny’s legs as he scurries across the hangar floor.
Got you, motherfucker!
Charging forward, I duck under the wing and around the plane, the barrel of my gun trained on Donny’s back as he runs.
Just as I squeeze the trigger, a hand snatches my ponytail in a brutal yank, jerking me backwards, and the shot goes high.
I scream, my feet leaving the ground before my back slams onto the cold concrete, knocking the wind from me.
A vile laugh that I never wanted to hear again cuts through my panic, and I look up to see the familiar eyes of Donny’s uncle Ian.
“You really thought you had him, didn’t you?” Ian Allen looms above me, his own gun now trained on my chest as I gasp for air.
“He’ll…” I cough, “keep.” I snarl the second word, and Ian’s brows hitch in surprise.
“The girl finally has a bit of fight in her,” he laughs, low and mean. “This is going to be fun.”
Slowly, a smug grin unfurls on my face as my hand wraps around the hilt of the knife at my hip, and I nod up at him.
“Yeah. It is.” Letting out a war cry, I slam the blade into his ankle, and he instantly howls in agony.
Blood spurts from the wound, causing him to slip, and his head cracks against the concrete floor with a sickening thud, his cries instantly cutting off.
“Hey! Get away from him!” Donny roars from somewhere, and with Ian now unconscious at my feet, I scramble for my gun, scooping it up and whipping around just as Donny skids to a halt, his eyes going wide.
“Fuck!” he hisses, spinning on his heel and bolting back the way he came, but this time when I squeeze the trigger, my aim is true, and the bullet tears into his back.
He stumbles forward, a strangled cry ripping from his throat as he crashes to the floor.
A rush of triumph surges through me, the heat of it flooding my veins. But it’s not enough.
