Page 89 of The Mercenary's Hidden Heir
No matter what.
No matter what it costs.
We run.
The maintenance tunnel stinks of burnt metal and rotting water.
Lights flicker overhead, buzzing like angry wasps.
Joren stumbles.
I catch his hand, dragging him faster.
Silpha leads, weaving through the maze like she was born in it.
A door slams open ahead.
Three thugs pour into the tunnel.
Petru’s colors painted sloppy across their chests.
Blasters up.
Smirking like they already won.
"Give us the brats," the biggest one sneers. "And maybe we let you crawl away."
My fingers twitch against the trigger.
"You got one chance," I snarl, voice low and sharp enough to cut. "Turn around. Walk away."
They laugh.
Wrong move.
I set Aria down behind me, shoving Joren close to her.
"Stay," I bark.
Their wide, terrified eyes lock on me.
I turn.
And unleash hell.
The first thug charges, sloppy and overeager.
I sidestep, grab his wrist, and drive my knee into his gut.
Bone cracks.
He folds with a wet grunt.
The second fires wild.
I duck low, roll forward, and come up swinging.
My fist catches him across the jaw—hard enough to send teeth flying.
