Toy Soldiers (Helford #1)

(7) Flames

I could feel my injuries burning like the flames, but I couldn’t let it slow me down. I hefted myself off of the ground and dove into the smoke and panic, the bodies of all of the guests running in all different directions in their desperation to find the door, to find a way out of this hell. I pushed past them, hearing their screams like the roar of the fire, feeling my own panic bubbling up inside of me like a hysterical scream. I gazed around at the constantly moving crowd, looking for a familiar face.

I caught sight of the shadows shifting, and I tore off in that direction.

My heels slowed me down only fractionally, and I felt my dress tearing at the bottom as I ran, diving through the crowd and diverting my attention only to check to make sure the knife in my bra hadn’t been dislodged with the explosion. I stumbled out of the chaos and looked around wildly, my hair now falling loose around my face. The smoke was intoxicating, and I cleared my throat, whipping around urgently.

I saw a flash of black, so close, and I dislodged the knife.

“Caitie,” a familiar voice called to me, and I blinked against my watering eyes to find Blackwell leaning against the wall there, his chest heaving and his hand over a wound on his arm, blood leaking out between his fingers. His knees were shaking, but I could tell that he hoped that I wouldn’t notice. “He went south,” he croaked, wincing when his injured arm automatically went to point me in the right direction. He shook his head at me when I hesitated. “Go.”

Marci rushed over and grabbed Rian, sending me only a concerned look as she started to push him into the crowd crazy and frenzied enough not to notice a bleeding man in their midst, someone who should not be there. I watched them go for only a moment before I kicked my shoes off and continued to run with much more efficiency, adrenaline pumping through my body.

I caught sight of my target, and I tackled him to the ground.

The man in black quickly wriggled free of my hold, rolling the moment he hit the ground and sending us both skidding across the dance floor. I jumped to my feet as he did, a knife flicking out of the handle as he plunged it toward me. I jumped back, out of the way of the blade, analyzing my threat at the same time as diving toward him with my own knife, missing his throat by centimeters as he ducked his head back, parallel to the ceiling. I charged toward him but he grabbed me and threw me, sending me so high that I slid over the top of a table before spiraling onto the ground, landing with the breath getting knocked out of me. I gasped.

The man jumped over the table and raised his knife again, and I realized in a split second that mine was on the floor just out of reach. I knocked his wrist away and tried for a punch to the face, rolling out of the way. The knife made a sharp sound as it buried into the wooden dance floor where my throat had once been, the sight of the threat making my blood boil and making me grow angrier with every passing moment. I snarled and lunged at him, catching him off guard with my viciousness as I knocked him backward, his head slamming into the ground hard enough that for a moment his eyes rolled back into his head.

I used that as an advantage to sit on his stomach, pressing him down onto the ground as I lost control, his grunts and groans underneath of me telling a story of my rage, my ire. The room was still rampant in chaos, but thankfully no one seemed to notice me sitting here beating the absolute shit out of a man dressed in all black. I didn’t need to attract any unwanted attention to myself.