Page 126 of The Diávolos: Part Two
When I approach him, he points to a loose brick. “We need to get it out,” I say, pulling out my knife from its holder.
I push the blade between the cement and wiggle the brick out of the wall.
When it falls to the ground, I reach inside the hole and find a leaver. I pull it.
A clicking noise sounds from the other end of the room. A door that we hadn’t even noticed pops open.
“Let’s go, fellas.” A smile involuntarily tugs at the corners of my lips.
On the other side of the door, there’s another long tunnel.
“Christé mou,” Dion says, exasperated. “How many of these until we reachsomething?”
“I don’t know.” I’m wondering the same thing myself.
But we keep trekking until we see another light, and this is when I get the feeling that we’re close.
“She’s here,” I declare with confidence.She has to be.I can't help but rely on this deep and instinctual feeling.
I hear the hustle and bustle of people, but also thuds and rumbles. It sounds like there’s a fight going on. The sound of gunshots resonates in the air and fills me with fear.I need to get to my wife.
I extend an arm to the side to block the guys from going any further and bring my index finger to my lips.
Listening closely, I wait. Just then, I hear Angelica’s soft grunts.
I gesture to the men our plan of attack with my hands.
Dion and Xander stick with me. Seba and Hen go left with their guys. And Elias will wait until summoned to come out with the rest of the men.
One by one, we exit the tunnel and—the sight before my eyes shocks and amazes me in equal measure.
My little angel is fighting a group of men, a rifle slung on her back and a gun in her hand.
She’s bloodied, wearing only the hospital gown that she was taken away in. It’s covered in scarlet stains, her lips also tinted red from a wound I can’t discern.
There are three dead guards on the floor. She has her arm on another’s neck, choking him out from behind. Philip is in the corner, tied to a chair, his head hanging low. Blood seeps from his mouth and there’s a massive gash on the side of his skull.
As I absorb the scene in front of me, my heart thuds, the rhythm echoing through my ears.
That’smyangel. The embodiment of strength and grace.
Her medical gown flows as she dances around the men. Each one of her steps is deliberate, calculated.
I watch Angelica strike and shoot, her weapons becoming an extension of her being. My gaze is fixed on her, a profound sense of awe washing over me.
Time seems to slow, the world around us fading into the background. Even the guys watch the action unfold, mesmerized.
Every movement Angelica makes holds a captivating allure that draws me in completely.
Mine. My angel. Mywife.
She’s a vision of grace amidst chaos.
My attention gets caught by a tall man on the other side of the room, who’s blocking more guards from coming into the wide space. He’s slashing their necks with a machete-lookingknife, not caring about the amount of blood that sprays onto his face. He looks like a wild animal.
“Holy fuck. I think I know who that is,” Xander says, shock in his tone.
“Who is it?”
