Alone • Liam Dunbar

Twenty-Seven

TW: blood & violence (tbh it's not that bad, but better safe than sorry <3)

As I stand from my crouched position, the stitches in my side sting from the movement. I take deep breaths as I prepare myself for what's to come, and with each one, I numb myself to the sensation.

Liam and Brett eye me curiously, unsure of what I was doing. I avoid looking their way as I speak in a hushed voice, knowing the wolves around me could hear it.

"Everyone stay down," I mutter. "It'll be okay."

Liam instantly understands my words. He lunges to grab me and hold me back, but Brett reaches for him before he can reach for me. It's only then do I freely step out into the open. 

The bearded man notices me first, his pistol poised in the air toward me.

"Shoot her!"

With rapid and light steps I charge toward the assassins. I duck as they begin to shoot, already close enough to them where the range on their guns is becoming useless. Pistols like theirs aren't meant for close-range combat, and they could easily shoot each other by accident as I get between them.

I slip under the bearded man's outstretched arms toward the bald man, my ears ringing from the proximity of gunfire. I grip the wrist of his arm that wields his gun, aiming it toward the sky. He's desperate and pulls the trigger anyway, bullets flying overhead. His fear is making him rely too heavily on his gun, and he leaves himself completely open for attack. 

I strike quickly, driving the base of my forearm into his throat. He chokes and gasps for air, unable to fight back as I disarm him and take his weapon for my own. I pin one of his arms behind his back for leverage as I swap our bodies. His slender frame becomes a makeshift shield as his fellow assassins aim their guns our way.

"Let him go," the woman tries to command fiercely.

It's obvious she's never done anything like this before, yet she thinks she's untouchable. I almost want to taunt her and goad her into shooting. She didn't have the skills necessary to make this complex of a shot, and she'd only end up killing the man in front of me. I save her from that embarrassment and send one singular shot into her thigh. It's not a fatal injury but it's enough to subdue her until I can get closer.

The quake of the pistol and the feeling of pulling a trigger spikes my adrenaline. I barely register her painful howling.

She staggers back and her pistol drops to the ground. She whimpers pathetically as she clutches at her thigh in an attempt to control the bleeding. Her unearned confidence is long gone.

The bald man lets out gurgled pleas for me to stop and tries to worm his way out of my hold. I kick at the back of his legs so he falls. One powerful hit to his temple with the butt of his own pistol is all it takes before he's napping in the dirt.

The bearded man was distracted by the woman, so his attention is half on me, half on her. When he senses me advancing he turns to swing at my head.

I drop to dodge his hit, seeing it coming from a mile away. At my new height, I unsheathe the push-dagger from my sleeve and sink it into the side of his knee. I twist the steel in his body, creating a wound to immobilize him. He cries out and tries to whack me over the head with his pistol, but he lacks the speed necessary for the hit to land. I rise and take hold of his arm to aim the pistol away, a few shots being fired into the dirt.

He struggles and I can feel my grip loosening so I know I need to act fast.

I stomp on his injured knee with the sole of my boot, my dagger that's still embedded in him forcefully plunging itself deeper. He buckles under the pressure, involuntarily kneeling at my feet.