Page 33 of Brutal Union
“I’ve got you, Hime. I’ve got you. I’ve got you—don’t go.”
She stirs. A flutter of lashes. Her lips part.
“Sho…” Her voice is barely air. Frayed. Fragile. But alive.
“I’m here.” I press my forehead to hers. I squeeze her tighter. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”
A sharp sound cuts through the roaring fire—boots.The rhythmic sound echoes throughout the room in such a controlled tempo, I know it is too precise for emergency response of the police, not these are trained soldiers.
My body stiffens.
I hear them—grinding through ash and glass, methodical, unfazed.And then, cutting through the smoke like a blade:
“Pick her up. Now.”
The voice is deep, calm. Korean accent. Precise like a scalpel.
I twist my head. Movement through the smoke. A tall figure. Black tactical coat, gloves slick with soot and blood. He moves like a ghost through the inferno, eyes sweeping the room.
He hasn’t seen us.
Not yet.
He’s close—too close.
I shift my hold on Nadia, lowering her behind a half-collapsed beam. She groans softly, her body trembling from the movement.
“Shh,” I whisper, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “We’ve got company. Stay quiet.”
Her lashes flutter. Her fingers twitch against my chest.
She’s still with me.
“We’re getting out of here,” I promise her as I lift her again. My ribs feel like shattered glass, but I grit through the pain. My arms lock around her, holding her like something precious I refuse to lose.
The voices are louder now. Commanding. Sharp. Barking in Korean just beyond the hallway. I hear boots slam debris aside.
I press forward, hunched low, shielding her with my body as I move through the charred remains of the kitchen.
“Where can I go, Nadia?” I whisper into her blood-matted hair, voice nearly broken. “Tell me where to go.”
“Back… way…” she rasps.
I don’t hesitate.
The stairwell door is warped and half-melted, but intact. I slam into it with my shoulder. It creaks, groans, and gives.
We descend—fast, silent, one stair at a time. Her body clings to me, unconscious again, blood soaking my chest.
At the bottom, I slam through the alley door, stumbling into cold night air.
Sirens howl. Firelight dances along the alley walls in strobes. But it’s not over. Not yet.
I crouch beside her, press her back to the wall gently. She lets out a low moan, one arm clutching her stomach.
That’s when I see the gash.
“Fuck.”
