Page 83 of Fury
He considers this, then nods. "Very well." He approaches my chair, leaning down so his face is level with mine. "What is it you know, Mr. Reed?"
The rope gives way completely. In one fluid motion, I free my hand, grab his expensive shirt, and yank him forward. His momentum throws him off-balance, and before his men can react, my fingers close around the knife tucked into his waistband.
I have the blade at his throat before anyone can move, my other hand still working to free itself from the loosened bindings.
"Tell your men to back off," I growl in his ear, pressing the knife hard enough to draw a thin line of blood. "Now."
"Stand down," Volkov orders, his voice remarkably steady despite the steel at his jugular.
The man touching Livie freezes, his hands still on her shoulders. The other two reach for their weapons but don't draw, caught in the standoff.
"Release her," I demand, twisting the knife slightly. "Cut her free. Now."
Volkov nods almost imperceptibly, and one of his men approaches Livie with a knife of his own. I tense, ready to slit Volkov's throat if the man makes one wrong move, but he simply cuts through the ropes binding her.
"Livie, come to me," I say, never taking my eyes off the men with guns.
She rises shakily, moving behind my chair to help free my other hand and my ankles. Her fingers tremble against my skin, but her movements are quick and efficient.
"What now, Mr. Reed?" Volkov asks, still unnervingly calm. "You can't possibly think you'll walk out of here alive."
"Maybe not," I admit, standing and dragging him up with me, keeping the knife pressed to his throat. "But I guarantee you'll die first."
I back us toward the door, Livie staying close behind me. "Your men are going to put their guns on the floor," I instruct. "Slowly."
They look to Volkov, who gives another slight nod. One by one, they place their weapons on the ground.
"Livie, grab one," I say, and she quickly retrieves the nearest gun, holding it with more confidence than I expected.
"You won't get far," Volkov says as we continue our careful retreat. "My organization has resources you can't imagine."
"Maybe," I reply, reaching the door. "But they won't help you if your throat's been cut."
I press the blade deeper into Volkov's throat, drawing more blood. His breath hitches as the steel bites into his skin, creating the terrifying sensation that his jugular is about to be opened. Before his men can react, I spin him around and slam his head against the doorframe, dropping him unconscious to the floor.
"Run!" I grab Livie's hand and we bolt out the door, sprinting toward the dense tree line thirty yards away. Shouts erupt behind us, followed by the crack of gunfire. Bullets whiz past, splintering bark from trees as we reach the forest edge.
I pull Livie deeper into the darkness, navigating by instinct through the underbrush. Her breath comes in ragged gasps, but she keeps pace, the gun still clutched tightly in her hand.
"Here," I whisper, spotting a dense thicket of bushes beneath a fallen tree. I guide her down into the natural hiding spot, crouching beside her. "Stay here. Don't make a sound."
"No," she protests, gripping my arm. "We need to stay together."
"They're coming," I say, hearing branches snap as the men enter the woods. "I have to take them out or we'll never make it back to the road."
Fear and determination war in her eyes. "Greyson?—"
"Trust me." I cup her face, pressing a fierce kiss to her lips. "I'll come back for you. I promise."
She nods, her fingers finally releasing their grip. "Be careful."
"Don't move until I return. No matter what you hear." I brush leaves over her, concealing her further. "And, Livie? If I'm not back in twenty minutes, you run. Follow the moon, it'll keep you heading east toward the highway."
Before she can argue, I slip away, circling back toward the cabin. The gun in her hands will be her last defense if I fail.
I move silently through the forest, years of hunting with the club making me one with the shadows. Voices filter through the trees—Volkov's men spreading out, searching.
"Find them!" one shouts. "Mr. Volkov wants the woman alive!"
