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And then, all hell broke loose.
The first goon lunged, telegraphing his move like a damn amateur. I sidestepped, shoved him past me. His momentum betrayed him, sending him careening face-first into the drywall. Dust and plaster rained down. "Sloppy," I scoffed, feeling that familiar surge of adrenaline.
"Son of a—" The second brute swung wide, aiming for my head.
"Too slow!" I ducked under his arm, driving my elbow into his gut with all the force of a freight train. Air whooshed out of him, and it was music to my ears. I grabbed his collar, smashed my forehead against his nose. Crunch. Blood spurted—a crimson spray painting the walls. Man, where the fuck did Priscilla find these guys? I wouldn't even need my knife at this rate.
"Fuck you!" he spat, swinging wildly again.
"Please, you don't look like a good lay." I caught his fist, twisted his arm back. Bones snapped as his face twisted in pain. He screamed, a high-pitched wail that would've been pitiful if I gave a shit. But mercy had no home here.
"Should've stayed away from us," I snarled, slamming his head back into the wall.
"Chris, we gotta go!" Ella's plea broke through the haze of violence.
"Almost done here, little ember." My words were a promise, one last gift for the bastards. The second guard stumbled toward me, half-blind with blood streaming down his face. I met him head-on, felt the jolting impact as my fist connected with his jaw. A satisfying pop, and he dropped like a sack of shit.
"Time to leave," I muttered, bloodied hands shaking—not from fear, but from the rush. Always the rush.
"Okay, okay..." Her breaths were quick, mirroring mine.
"Grab your stuff." I wiped my hand across my mouth. The taste of blood lingered on my tongue, a reminder of what had to be done to protect what was mine. She was mine. No one would take her from me. Not Priscilla, not these goons, not anyone.
"Okay," she repeated, her voice trembling but determined.
"Let's go, Ella. Now!" I barked, already moving, scanning for more threats. They'd come for us, sure as night follows day. And I'd be ready. Always am.
The room reeked of iron and shit, the guards' bowels having let go in their final moments. Gruesome art splashed across the walls, a canvas of blood that told tales of what happened when you fucked with me, with us.
I glanced at the bodies, a grim satisfaction settling in my chest. "She'll send more once she realizes these are dead."
"Where will we go?"
"Safe house. Can you hurry it along, Ella, please. You've been standing there, but we need to move." I grabbed our scant belongings, stuffing them into a duffel with more force than necessary. "Adam set one up in the next state."
"Ready." She stood beside me, her brown eyes meeting mine, finding an anchor in the storm.
"Good." I kicked the door open, stepping over the threshold into the night. We had to disappear into the darkness, become shadows among shadows. Fuck anyone who tried to follow. They'd learn, just like these poor bastards on the floor, that you don't fuck with Chris Fucking Charming.
The air outside was like cold steel against my skin, the night silent as a grave. I moved quick, eyes sweeping the rundown motel lot. Ella’s steps were hushed behind me, her breaths quick and heavy.
We rounded the corner of the building, every muscle tensed for a fight or flight. A lone streetlight flickered overhead, the buzzing sound like a taunt. I scanned the perimeter; no movement, no signs we’d been spotted. Yet.
"Fuck, this is too exposed," I muttered, feeling the open space like a target on my back. "We need to grab a car."
I led us toward the line of hedges at the far end of the lot, every step calculated. There was an art to moving without being seen. I mastered that shit years ago.
"Almost there," I breathed, the outline of the road whispering freedom just beyond the shrubs.
A car passed by, its headlights a momentary blinding threat, but it drove on, oblivious to the hunted prey mere feet away. We waited, counted heartbeats that pounded in my chest like war drums, then bolted across the street.
"Move your ass, sunshine," I barked over my shoulder, pushing her forward.
Our breaths misted in the cold air as we skulked through the back alley, my senses on high alert.
"Chris," Ella's voice was a whisper against the thumping of my heart, "there."
Her hand brushed mine, pointing towards a nondescript sedan. Older model, keys likely stashed above the visor—amateurs made it too damn easy. A grin split my face, the thrill of the steal pulsing through me.
