“That’s a lot of ifs,” he muttered. “Where do I fit in this crazy plan?”
“You’re on the lookout. Anything goes wrong, block the trapdoor and get out of here.” He scowled, and she squeezed his arm. “We know what we’re doing, Chad.”
Swallowing his protest, he finally nodded. His troubled gaze followed her and Jane to the trapdoor.
“Be careful,” he whispered from his position by the door.
Nodding to him, Pain raised her hood. At her side, Jane checked her gear and whispered, “Knock ’em out?”
Pain snorted. “Anything down there starts shooting, and I’ma turn it into shawarma.” She pulled up her mask and bent to grab the handle. “Wait for the light.”
“You mean the dark?”
A smirk tugged on Pain’s lips despite the mask. She pulled the trapdoor open.
Dark enough.
Not wasting a heartbeat on unnecessary words, she darted into the dim basement. Her sister knew the plan, and their enemies’ guns were useless as long as they weren’t prepared to shoot.
The basement was huge, the light coming from a small lamp across the room. Pain went straight for it, as planned. A glance was all it took to register two men with guns jumping to their feet and a long stretch of cells to her right.
They didn’t try to shoot. They probably hadn’t even seen her, just knew something was wrong.
Her boot smashed into the lamp, her eyes catching a man’s surprised expression before darkness blinded them all. Instinct drove her forward. She had to use the chance while she knew his position.
One hand grabbing the AK’s barrel, the other wrapping around the man’s neck, she blasted into the air. The other man shouted in surprise, but he wouldn’t shoot now. Not when he knew his partner wasn’t at his side anymore.
Pain let go of the gun, only to drive her fist into the man’s temple. He went slack in an instant, and she landed quietly in the corner under the trapdoor.
Light filled the room suddenly, and she whirled, spotting the second man with his gun raised. He had switched on another lamp.
Before he could pull the trigger, before she could move, a slim shadow darted behind his back. Jane dropped him with a single punch, yanking the gun down, so the two shots he fired went into an armchair in the corner.
Pain breathed out. Chad up there had to be going nuts. “All clear,” she said, loud enough for both him and Jane to hear.
She patted down the guard for more weapons, found a handgun in his boot, and put it and the AK aside. Jane joined her by the trapdoor, her eyes glued to the cells, but the light was too dim to see much.
“Can you take these outside?” Pain asked, pointing at all the weapons. “Just drop them somewhere. We’ll pick them up later.”
“Sure,” Jane said.
Pain picked up the man, carrying him to the lit corner, where his partner was sprawled knocked out cold. The air stank, and litter filled the corners, making her wonder if they’d spent weeks in this hole. Across the room, people began to stir, their hushed voices filtering through the dark.
Jane appeared at her side. “We need more light,” she said, sweeping her flashlight over the guards’ corner. There was another lamp, overturned under an ugly, scratched-up table. She plugged it into a socket and clicked it on.
A loud bang shook the walls. Pain whipped around, seeing a door fly off a cell, then another. Three more followed them, the Commandos’ captives spilling out.
She gulped, counting the men in front of her. Her gaze slid over their identical shaved heads, dark overcoats, and boots. All of them tall, over six feet, and all with the same tattoo on their neck.
Pain realized Jane was pulling at her jacket, retreating back into the corner, since the way to the exit had been cut off.
I’m an idiot, Pain thought, drawing her katana.
Jane whispered, “I don’t know who they are, but they do not look friendly.”
Pain swallowed the lump in her throat.
“I do. They’re the Devil’s Whores.”
The whole goddamn horde.
Chapter 45
It took Dave about two seconds to find Philip.
He didn’t even bother saying anything, just grabbed the man from behind and brought him down onto a rooftop—hard.
“Seriously?” Dave asked when the man looked up at him, pale and wide-eyed.
Philip slumped, breathing hard as he lay on the cold concrete. He looked like the five-second flight had taken everything he had. Ten stories or so below, people celebrated their weekend. Dave blocked out the noise, trying to understand whatever had happened to the man for him to cause so much pain to so many people.
“I’m listening,” Dave said.
“What do you want from me?” Philip said, pulling up to sit against some superstructure that gave off enough warmth for it to cloud in the air. He winced and pulled his light coat tighter about himself, then looked up at Dave.
“All of it. What are you trying to do, what did you want with me, and why are you doing this. The sooner you start talking, the sooner we’ll get out of here.”
Philip snorted. “And go where? Some dark hole you’re going to kill me in? Get it over with. I’m not telling you shit.” He thought for a second, then added, “You should be thanking me, boy. I’ve given you the rarest gift in the world.”
Dave’s vision went red.
He lurched forward, grabbing Philip’s collar with one hand and hauling him to his feet. “Thank you? For killing my girlfriend? Or for ruining my life, you sick fuck?” He drew a deep breath, the frigid air doing nothing to the anger burning hot under his skin.
