Page 65 of Savage Saint
I advance toward her, using what cover I can find—tables and chairs turned into barricades by fear-stricken patrons. Each step brings me closer to her and deeper into danger. I raise my weapon and fire at a man trying to flank her. A clean shot straight to his chest.
His body crumples, but there’s no time for satisfaction. I pivot towards another target approaching from my left. A single shot takes him down too.
The thrill of violence courses through me, igniting something primal I thought buried beneath layers of control and discipline. This is familiar territory, calculated risk amidst bloodshed, but it feels different now. It feels personal.
Kasia catches sight of me just as another figure lunges toward her from behind. Time slows as she turns, instinct kicking in before I can shout a warning.
“Behind you!” I roar, but she’s already reacting. Her eyes locked on mine, fierce determination lighting up her features.
She whirls around just as my bullet finds its mark again. With each kill we take together, our bond deepens. It solidifies this chaotic moment into something we both know is more than survival. It feels like us against them.
Kasia and I move in lethal synchronisation, each shot fired a testament to our training. She covers my flank, instinctively positioning herself between me and any threat, her body an unyielding shield. We don’t need words. Our actions speak volumes as we protect each other amidst the chaos. Bodiesdrop around us, thudding against the floor like discarded marionettes.
I catch sight of Dante through the shattered glass, his focus sharp as he takes down another target from the poker room. Each shot echoes in time with ours, forming a rhythm that pulses through the air.
With every enemy that falls, I glance at Kasia, my lips curling into a smile. She mirrors it back at me, eyes burning with heat and determination. It's electric, this unspoken connection between us that grows stronger with each passing moment.
She fires again, precise and deadly, and I can’t help but admire how she handles herself under pressure. It feels like we’re dancing on this blood-soaked stage, partners in a dark ballet where survival is our only audience. We’re a team now. A dangerous duo ready to face whatever comes next together. And for the first time in years, I feel alive.
The last attacker lunges at us, desperation in his eyes. I barely register his movements, my focus locked on Kasia, whose unwavering resolve falters for the first time tonight.
He pulls something from his jacket. A small device that gleams ominously under the dim lights. A red light pulses at its centre, casting a sinister glow over the chaos. In an instant, Kasia’s body recoils as if struck by an electric shock. Her gun wavers in her grip. The warrior queen I’ve seen despatch enemies with lethal grace now looks like prey.
My instincts kick in before I can think. The weapon feels heavy and familiar in my hand as I line up my shot.
“Get down!” I shout, not even waiting for her to comply.
I pull the trigger, feeling the satisfying kickback as the bullet finds its mark, right between the attacker's eyes. He drops like a rag-doll, and the device slips from his grasp, hitting the floor with a dull thud. The red light continues to blink like a heartbeat against the backdrop of chaos.
Kasia stares at it, frozen in place. Her face drains of colour, fear replacing the fierce determination that had defined her moments before. She kicks it away with enough force to crack the casing, but it doesn’t stop there. Her hands tremble as if she’s grappling with a ghost.
I take a step closer, my heart racing as recognition flashes across her features. This is more than just another threat.
“What is it?” I demand, urgency thrumming through me.
But she only steps back further, panic creeping into her eyes. It unsettles me more than anything else tonight has thrown our way.
“Nothing,” she whispers hoarsely, but her voice betrays her. There’s something deeper lurking behind that denial.
Before anyone else can notice it lying on the floor amidst our bloody battleground, I reach down and pocket it. My fingers brush against its cool surface as I notice the symbol etched into its side: a wolf's head stark against the matte black finish. Whatever this device signifies, it's now between me and her.
Kasia watches me intently, her expression shifting from fear to uncertainty and back again. A thread of understanding forms between us, forged in violence and unspoken truths that neither of us fully comprehends yet.
The casino floor lies in ruins. Blood stains the marble, and broken glass crunches under my boots as I scan the room. Bullet holes pepper the walls, and the expensive furniture lies in splintered heaps. The smell of gunpowder and blood fills my nostrils while I count the bodies littering the ground like discarded toys.
Mel emerges from behind the bar, her face pale, mascara streaked down her cheeks. She's clutching her arm where a bullet grazed her, but otherwise, she's intact. Luca appears from the back entrance, his knuckles bloody, his usually perfect hair dishevelled. He must have been fighting off attackers at the rear.
"You okay?" he asks Mel, his voice gentler than I've ever heard it.
She nods, still trembling. "I'll take her home," Luca says to no one in particular, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her toward the exit.
Kasia stands frozen, a few feet away, her eyes burning a hole in the pocket I stuffed the device into. Her hands are shaking violently. But it's not fear that makes her tremble. It's something deeper. Rage. Pure, undiluted fury radiates from her in waves.
I cross to her in three strides, no longer caring who sees or what they think. I pull her against my chest, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other wrapping around her waist. She's rigid at first, then melts into me, her fingers clutching my shirt.
"Jerzy. Znalazl mnie," she mutters against my chest, words I don't understand but feel their weight all the same.
"What?"
