Of The Wolves And The Orphans

Close Escape

I'm running through a mansion with only the memorized blueprint in my head and a man who I would not trust with my salad fork is by my side. We are headed to the security room in hopes of finding Clint somewhere in the security footage.

He turns left suddenly, but that's not right. "Hey! The security room is this way!" I call.

"Do you expect to fight your way through sixty security guards armed with that fatal, yet useless, smile of yours?" He throws over his shoulder. As much as it infuriates me, the man has got a point. I take off after him.

We head down the labyrinth of halls to a secured door with an eye recognition lock. Luckily, his retina is already programmed in. It makes me wonder, how high up is this man, and if he is in so deep, why does he want out?

It's not that weird, Keira, you should know. Isn't that exactly what happened to you?

It's true, I wanted out. Because once you get in, almost nothing can pull you away. Luckily for me, I had... a friend... of sorts. One whose stupid ass I'm trying to currently save.

The door opens to an armory stock worthy of the United States Army. I suddenly wonder if the Masteria an arms dealer as well.

Mathias (at least, that's what he told me his name was) grabs a pistol and tosses it to me. I snatch it just as I kick off my shoes. Running in those heels kills. I grab a knife and stow it in the only safe place one may stow a knife in a pocket-less dress, which makes Mathias grin wolfishly. I promise with my eyes that I will castrate him if he so much as thinks anything too loudly. Happily for him, he keeps his perverted thoughts to himself and turns back to his gun with a grin still on his face.

We grab our weapons and head out back the way we came. If I remember correctly, which I do, we should take this corridor down the left, go straight for fifty feet, then turn right, go another thirty, take a right, forty feet, and then the doorway on the left.

I pelt around the first corner, but Mathias grabs my arm and pulls me back with a yell just as bullets whiz by, exploding the dry wall right where my head had been.

"Treat every gun like it's loaded. Safety 101." I can hear his tone dripping with patronizing sarcasm.

"Thanks, you keep that in mind when my gun is pointed at your temple," I respond through gritted teeth. I take a deep breath.

First, lock arms.

Second, clear corner.

Third, locate hostiles. Ten feet away. Ten security guards, half approximately 230 pounds, the other approximately 300 pounds.

Fourth, round corner.

Fifth, take aim.

Sixth, pull the trigger.

They are the elementary steps I learned in my months at the Academy. I learned exactly like this, waiting around the corner as hostiles shoot from down the hall. The first five steps are easy, it's the sixth that makes me freeze.

I've rounded the corner, I have to shoot. But I hesitate. I made the huge mistake Barton told me never to make, because it can cost your life. I almost pay with mine. A single bullet rips through my side. I can feel the skin tear, giving way to the cold metal that perforated my side.

I still can't shoot. This isn't going to work.

Cursing under my breath, I ditch the steps. I run out from our cover and pray to the good Lord that this works. I have one other trick up my sleeve. I, being my paranoid self, wasn't content with just a sleep serum, but until now my little trick wouldn't have worked.