“Take the back of that building,” Una barks. “Stay sharp.”
I back away, moving around the small building we were taking cover behind. Peeking around the corner, I check that it’s clear before dashing across the alleyway to the next barn. I suddenly realize that I’m alone, in Dominges’ heavily-fortified ranch. If he catches me... I glance at the gun in my hand, remembering the conversation that Rafael and I had. He won’t take me alive.
Gritting my teeth, I focus on killing as many of his men as I can. These guys protect a man who traffics hundreds if not thousands of women each year. They’re scum, only concerned with lining their pockets.
When I creep around the back of the barn, I see two men pressed up against the wall, but their attention is on the shots still being fired into the clearing. Sasha is merely the distraction.
I shoot both of them in quick succession. Headshots—bulletproof vests won’t save them here. I go back the way I came and move to the next building, but when I get there, the men are already down, and Una is crouched beside them, taking their ammunition.
“Okay?”
I nod, and she jumps up, jogging across the now empty clearing. Sasha joins us a few seconds later. “They know we’re here. There are at least ten in the first barn. More in the house,” he says.
Una takes her backpack off and rummages inside before pulling out several grenades.
“Lazy,” Sasha drawls.
She pushes to her feet, and then all hell breaks loose. There’s a low rumble in the distance and the ground beneath my feet trembles.
“What was that?”
“That is an explosion.” She grabs my wrist and tugs me down to a crouch just as several men sprint past the alleyway we’re now tucked into. The gunfire starts, and it’s not the simple pop, pop, pop of a handgun. The rhythmic rainfall of a machine gun filters through the night until it’s all I can hear. “Nothing changes. We go after Dominges,” Una says. I can almost see her brain firing through all the possibilities and strategies she needs.
I follow her as she starts for the house. The front of the ranch is like a war zone. Bullets fly, and men fall. The front gate is on fire, hanging off its hinges and several Hummers are now inside the boundary, heavy guns mounted on them. Those are Rafael’s vehicles. Or at least I think they are. Really anyone could have those vehicles.
The farmhouse itself sits in darkness, eerily unaffected by the violence so far. Una and Sasha take up positions beside both the front windows, before smashing them and tossing grenades inside. She slams me against the siding of the house just as the explosion sends the remaining windows scattering across the porch. The drab-looking curtains catch fire, and the flames creep up the wooden window frames, billowing black smoke out into the night air.
“Stay here, Anna. If he’s in there, I’ll bring him to you.”
They both dive through the front door, and I hear the sound of gunshots. I stay there, listening intently, though I can barely hear anything over the now roaring flames.
A hand slams over my mouth, and I’m hauled backward down the porch steps. It takes a few seconds for my mind to stop panicking, and then I bite down. Hard. A man growls, and his hand disappears. I slide my gun beneath my left arm and let off two shots without turning to face him. When I do turn around, he’s on the ground, winded. The bulletproof vest saved him from death but not for long. Pointing the gun at his head, I pull the trigger, and he falls still.
It takes me a moment to notice that I’m standing right in the middle of the war zone. Men lay dead or dying, some I recognize, meaning they’re Rafael’s. It’s utter chaos. Bullets fly everywhere, and I can’t even take cover because I have no idea where the enemy fire is coming from.
I spot Una as she leaps down the steps of the porch and runs towards me. The house behind her erupts into flames, reaching high into the night sky. The wooden structure groans under the strain. The brightness temporarily blinds me, and I blink away black spots. Movement registers in my periphery, and I turn just as a gun is pointed at my head. I swerve to the side, and there’s a crack beside my ear as the bullet splits the air beside me.
I just shoot, and its only when I really look at the man standing in front of me with a bullet hole in his head that I realize; he’s not a man at all. He’s a boy, a teenager. His wide, unseeing eyes stare at me, condemning me before he collapses to the ground. Something dark and ugly instantly grips me, squeezing until I feel like I can’t catch a full breath. I stare at his body, my hand trembling around the gun. Everything around me fades into the background as the heavy pounding of my pulse fills my ears. The ground rumbles again, and then there’s a bang, permeated by a rush of heat that feels as though it’s searing the skin on the left hand side of my body. And then silence. I hear absolutely nothing but a dull ringing in my ears.