Page 61 of Marked By His Touch
“Ava, no!” Alexander shouts, but I don’t listen. I’m not going to stand by and watch him be killed.
I charge towards the men. I swing the pipe with all my might, the metal whistling through the air like a brutal, desperate attack. It connects with one of the men’s heads, a sickening thud that sends a jolt of pain through my shoulder.
Hell, that hurts.
He screams, his gun clattering to the deck. The other man lunges, firing a shot that narrowly misses me. Alexander, his face contorted with fury, tackles the man, sending him crashing to the deck.
Alexander moves with savage grace. I swing the pipe again, its weight a brutal weapon in my hands. I connect with another man, his face twisting in pain. We’re fighting back, but we’re still outnumbered.
Damn it, how many men does he have?
Alexander’s chest heaves, his breath is ragged, and his movements are slower. He’s injured, his blood staining the deck a dark crimson. We need to get out of here. I see an opportunity. One of the men, his back turned, reloads his gun, oblivious to my approach. I take a deep breath and lunge forward.
I swing the pipe with all my might, connecting with the back of his head. He collapses, his body crumpling to the deck with a thud.
Nikolai, his eyes blazing with a chilling rage, rushes towards me. His hand reaches for his gun, but Alexander is alreadythere, intercepting his move. Their bodies collide in a flurry of movement, a whirlwind of fists and fury. A primal rage drives Alexander. “No one—treats Ava—” he pants, “like that.”
He slams Nikolai against the railing, his fists raining down. Nikolai groans, his face contorted with pain, his body trembling with the force of Alexander’s attack.
“You should have left her alone,” Alexander growls.
Suddenly, Nikolai breaks free from Alexander’s grasp, his eyes glinting with a chilling rage. He stumbles back, his hand flying to his face, a crimson stain blooming on his knuckles. He grabs his gun and points it at Alexander.
My heart races, and my breath comes in ragged gasps. I can’t stand here. I have to do something.
My eyes dart around, seeking an advantage. I spot a heavy toolbox near the railing, its plastic and metal surface gleaming. My hand instinctively moves towards it, a plan forming in my mind.
“You’re a fool,” Nikolai snarls. “A dead fool!”
I move, my legs pumping as I charge towards the toolbox. I’m going to use it. I’m going to protect Alexander. I’m no ragdoll.
“Ava, no!” Alexander shouts, but I ignore him. I grab the heavy toolbox.
Nikolai points his gun at Alexander, his finger poised on the trigger, his face twisted in a mask of hatred.
The world explodes in a cacophony of sound and motion. I swing the toolbox, its metal surface a bludgeon against Nikolai’s arm. He drops his gun with a clang, clutching his arm in agony.
I see the flash of the muzzle, the smoke curling in the air, and I hear the sharp crack of the gunshot echo through the bridge.
I don’t hesitate. I charge, picking up the toolbox and slamming it into his face this time, the metal connecting with a bone-jarring thud. He stumbles back, his eyes wide with shock. He collapses, his body crumpling to the deck.
But my victory is short-lived. Nikolai gets up; his face is twisted with pain. He lunges at Alexander, and his movements are frantic. My heart leaps into my throat. I see the flash of steel and a knife’s glint in Nikolai’s hand. I can’t let him hurt Alexander. My toolbox—where is it?
Damn it.
Instead, I launch myself into the fray. My hand reaches for the metal pipe again, now lying on the deck. I grab it, feeling its cold weight in my hand. I swing it, connecting with Nikolai’s shoulder. He cries out, his grip on the knife loosening.
Alexander, his eyes blazing, finally manages to disarm Nikolai. He throws the knife to the deck with a clang.
“It’s over, Nikolai,” Alexander says, his voice is cold.
He moves swiftly, pinning Nikolai against the railing, his fist poised to strike.
But Nikolai doesn’t wait. He lunges forward, his hand reaching for the gun that lies on the deck.
“No!” I cry.
A split-second decision. I act on instinct. I swing the metal pipe again, but this time with all my might. It connects with Nikolai’s head, sending him crashing over the railing.
