Page 73 of Depraved

A wet, gurgling sound echoes from the second floor. A guard tumbles over the balcony, and the man’s skull smashes on the concrete.

Gunfire bursts through the warehouse. Another body drops. Gore splatters the grey floor.

“You said he wouldn’t find us!” The American accuses.

“Ragnarök.” The Frenchman chokes on Brandon’s alias in a fearful whimper.

My heart sinks.

He came for me.

But there are too many of them.

The man I love is going to die.

19

BRANDON

My knife is wet with blood, and the hot evidence of their deaths splatters my cheeks. I managed to quietly cut my way through them to infiltrate the warehouse, but now I’ve been made. The dying guard tumbles over the railing, and his skull smashes on the concrete like a bursting melon.

All of the men below look up at me, their faces ranging from masks of fear to cold fury.

Each of them hates me. For some of them, I can’t even remember why. I barely recognize three of the men who’ve dared to bid on my Karolina.

Her screams still echo through my head, stoking my bloodlust.

I’m always a calm killer, methodical. Efficient.

Now, white hot rage drives every murderous slash of my knife.

Another guard raises his assault rifle, but he’s too late. I slam my full weight into him and rip it from his hands. His head smashes on the concrete, too.

A third guard rushes me. I stop him with a single shot to the heart. In his final moment, his finger contracts around the trigger of his rifle. It sprays bullets as his dead weight falls.

The hail of gunfire works to my advantage. The others are panicking. They don’t know if I’m alone, or if I’ve come with a small army at my back.

The automatic rifle enables me to take out the other men on the second floor within less than a minute.

Below, my enemies are scrambling. I pick them off with precise shots as they run for their lives.

“Ragnarök!” Sokolov thunders. “Not another move, or she dies.”

Murderous energy keeps my muscles coiled tight, but I don’t fire another round. He’s holding a blade at Karolina’s throat. Even from this distance, the whites of her eyes flash with panic.

The sight of her raw terror shreds me.

I came here knowing exactly how this would end.

I took out as many of them as I could, but it’s time to trade my life for hers.

“I’m the one you want,” I call out, making my way down the metal stairs with my gun still raised. “Let her go.”

She twists in her bonds and lets out a muffled plea through the gag.

“It’s alright,” I reassure her. “I’m getting you out of here.”

She jerks against her restraints and screams.