Page 160 of Dark Night of the Soul

I drove him into the tile, forearm across his throat, felt the moment his breath stuttered. My knife slid free—not rushed, not shaking. Precise.

I leaned in close to the man beneath me, long enough for him to see my face clearly. To understand.

“Now, we’re even.”

The knife went in clean. Silent. Final.

I withdrew it as smoothly and stepped back before the cold pull inside me could ask for more.

Still in control. Still me.

Two dead guards. One—a reckoning.

“You should have let me have him,” he said—quiet, rueful. “I wanted to beat his face in.”

“Next time,” I said. “Besides, you picked the other guy.”

Still no alarms.

We continued down the corridor to the server room. Right where the blueprints said it would be.

Cold air blasted over me as I stepped into the room. Goosebumps rose on my arms. The smell of ozone and cooled electronics. Rows of racks hummed. And even though I knew this was what I wanted, my hands shook. I sheathed the knife, ready to get to work.

He stood at the door, watching the hallway, gun in hand.

I accessed the primary system and prepared to wipe the data. Fingers flying over the keyboard.

Green indicators flared to life. Ludwig’s thermite charges were armed and waiting. When we stepped inside, I exhaled.

One more step.

“I knew you’d come. Nice hair,” a voice said behind me.

Ice flooded my veins.

My head snapped up. Decker emerged from around one of the racks.

I started to reach for the knife at my waist, but he was faster.

He grabbed me by the throat and slammed me against the rack. My head cracked against metal. Black stars exploded across my vision. The taste of copper flooded my mouth. His hand tightened, lifting me, pinning me there.

I couldn’t access the programming. Couldn’t focus through the choking, the panic, the black spots crowding my vision.

I caught movement behind Decker. Kincade, weapon raised.

Then one shot. Loud in the confines of the room.

Decker released me and stumbled back. I collapsed, gasping for air. The tile was ice against my palms. Each breath scraped like broken glass. My throat burned. Vision still spotted with black.

I pressed my palms flat on the cold tile floor and forced my head up. Decker stood against one of the racks, hand pressed to his left shoulder. Blood seeping through his fingers.

But he was still standing. Still capable.

Then Kincade was there, stepping between us, weapon still raised.

“Touch her again,” he said, voice flat and final, “and I kill you.”

I should’ve been annoyed at being shielded. I wasn’t. My head was still ringing and my vision kept blurring.