valentine | the old guard

ix. an army surprised

I walk out into the kitchen, nodding silently to Booker as I pass him. Andy must have cleaned the dishes earlier, leaving a fresh glass tipped upside down on the draining rack.

I fill it with water but don't drink it - sliding it onto the counter instead.

"How do you think it's going out there?" Booker asks, looking through the cabinets for something. He stops after a while, reaching in and pulling his hand back, placing the bottle of whiskey down next to his empty glass from dinner. He pours two drinks then hands one to me - which I take gratefully. I usually make an effort to avoid alcohol but my nerves are a mess.

"Nile is very scared," I reply quietly, sipping the amber liquid. "Though at this point, I think we all are. Being exposed like this..."

Booker places his glass down, taking mine as well. He moves a hand under my chin and strokes a path along my jawline lightly with his thumb. "Hey, the boys told you to stop thinking like that. Listen to them." He presses a gentle kiss to the top of my head, an unusually soft gesture from him. "You're meant to be the sunny, optimistic one. We balance each other out, you and I. We can't both be sad."

"Then be happy," I whisper. "Because I'm not sure if I can anymore."

Booker sighs, pulling back to look me in the eyes. "You don't mean that, Valentine." He takes me by the shoulders and shakes me slightly, forcing me to look behind him towards Joe and Nicky. They're sitting on the bed peacefully, knees against one another's and their heads together in quiet conversation. "You have two men in there who love you. Who would give their lives for you - three including me. Andy would too and you know it. You're going to live a long, fulfilled life, Val. We're gonna get through this."

I open my mouth to speak but hear heavy footsteps outside the window. Footsteps that are decidedly neither Nile's nor Andy's. My eyes immediately turn back to the boys, watching as their heads turn in the direction of the door.

Before I can say anything, the door bursts open - a swarm of black-clad mercenaries like the ones in South Sudan flooding the room. One of them throws out a live grenade, arcing it through the air towards the kitchen where me and Booker are still standing.

"Valentine!" Joe screams from the bedroom.

Booker throws me to the ground before I can move, blocking the impact of the explosive with his body. I gently grab his shoulder and turn him over, rolling him onto his back. Wincing, I see the horrific extent of the damage - knowing instantly that it will take a longer period of time than usual for him to heal.

Listening as Nicky and Joe fight the soldiers, I drag Booker to the armchair beside the door, propping him up in it before joining the conflict.

I land a few good punches, shooting three of the men with their own weapons before one - a leader of some kind - gets an advantage over me. I can see Joe and Nicky being restrained on the other side of a rapidly forming wall of armor-clad soldiers and try desperately to reach them. No matter what I do, I can't seem to break through - hands shoving me back and trying to grab me at every attempt.

"Don't hurt her!" Nicky yells, his voice raw with anger as he watches the leader grab me, applying pressure to my throat and lifting me off the ground by my neck.

I mouth that I love him before the man throws me down, slamming me through the wooden dining table. The tabletop splinters beneath me, cracking under my weight - forming large, jagged spikes. The pain in my chest tells me that I've been stabbed by one; a quick glance down at the wooden stake protruding from my chest confirms as much. Other splinters rise up through my stomach and sides.

"Stop it!" Joe yells again, powerless to help.

I let out a cough, blood splattering the face of the soldier crouching over me. "Is that all you've got, bitch?"