Mila

Her lips peeled back in a snarl as Pierce told the old man just how wrong he was about her qualifications and therefore also her helplessness. Or lack thereof in the latter’s case.

Mila felt the old man jerk in surprise as his head moved from Pierce to regard her. She couldn’t see him to be sure, but the body language all added up. That’s when she made her move. The gun barrel was placed with some force on the top of her left temple.

She did three things all at the same time. First was drop her head as far to the right as it could go. Second was to drop her right hip as well. The third and final thing she did was bring her left arm flying up toward her head.

Because the director didn’t know how to truly handle a gun, instead of keeping his left arm in tight to his body, he had it out to the side and bent at a sharp angle to point it at her head. It was a classic amateur mistake.

One moment he had her in his sights, the next she was dipping out from underneath it, while her left hand slammed into his elbow, pushing the gun past her head.

The gun went off, the sound a deafening roar that made her ears ring as the bullet exploded from the chamber. The old man shrieked in pain, but Mila had no time to figure out why. He still had the gun in his hand, and she needed to fix that.

Her dip to the side became a half spin and she was suddenly facing him. Her arms came up and quickly twisted the gun out of his grip and hurled it toward Pierce, away from the human guards. Then she grabbed the stunned director by the shoulders and tossed him into the path of the two humans acting as his bodyguards.

As they stopped their charge to grab him, she saw the wound in his side. The gun had grazed his right hip, leaving a trail of red.

Good.

One of the guards grabbed the director and hustled him off, retreating down the corridor with him while the other advanced on Mila, clearly meaning to buy time while he escaped.

“He’s getting away!” she shouted, hoping that Pierce might hear her.

But from behind her there came only grunts and the sound of punches and other blows landing. Whatever was going on, Pierce had no time to help her. It was up to Mila if they were going to stop Burnatawiz from escaping.

Face set into a neutral expression, she went to meet the final human. The drug-addled one had disappeared down the hallway with the director she noticed. It was one-on-one, only him standing in her way.

Mila strode forward confidently, arms raised in a guarded position. The guard, clad in all black with gray markings, stood his ground and waited for her. She ducked to the left and tossed a quick jab to test his defenses. The man didn’t move—instead he simply slapped her hand out of the way with casual ease.

She followed that up with a lightning-quick one-two combination, but once more he simply used superior positioning and strength to move her arms away from their intended target paths. Mila was no slouch in close combat, but she was also no expert. This man clearly was.

That was okay though; she’d had training on how to take bigger, stronger men down before. The first principle she intended to use was to make him overconfident. That included letting him toss some punches, ones that she narrowly avoided. Then she left herself open to a devastating blow to the head.

The guard didn’t miss the opening and his left fist came driving in at her head.

Except her head wasn’t there anymore. Mila let her knees go weak as she wrapped her hands over her head, creating an O-shape with them. The guards arm punched right through the middle of the circle, and her linked hands came down on his arm, splitting at the last second to grip it tight.

Then she used the slight forward momentum this imparted in her to kick out with the heel of her foot. Hard.

“Argh!” the guard screamed in high-pitched agony as she slammed the entire foot into his crotch with as much force as she could muster.

Trying not to notice whether anything had given way under her blow, she let go of his arm, falling to the ground. Unlike her opponent though, Mila rebounded and scrambled right back to her feet. The guard tried to overcome the pain, but she darted back to one of the other bodies, snatched a tranq gun from it, and pumped him full of three darts.

“And stay down,” she spat, turning back to the shifter fight.

A quick count showed five of the unknowns against the five Koche brothers.

“Time to end this,” she muttered. “Pierce, give me a target!” she hollered into the melee, hoping someone would hear her.

Someone bellowed and an enemy shifter flew across the hallway and hit the wall, leaving him momentarily clear of the others. Mila smiled, raised the gun and sent a dart into his arm.

The shifter batted it away carelessly and pushed off the wall. He made it two steps, then faltered as the tranquilizer raced through his system, aided by the fast beating of his adrenaline-fueled heart.

“Another!” she shouted.

One of the Koche brothers was grappling with his target. He spun on the spot, presenting the broad back of his foe to her. Mila used two darts, and down he went. With the odds now five on three, it was only a short matter of time before the others all went down with darts in their bodies as well.

All five of the Koches were breathing hard, as was she.

“Pierce,” she said in alarm, rushing to his side as she saw the massive opening in his skin along his face. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, gave her a thumbs up, and then tapped his wrist, as if wearing a watch.

“You’re okay…time…” she frowned.

“He’ll be okay, he just needs time,” a voice supplied.

Mila turned.

It was the one named Kassian, the one who had almost killed her.

“It would appear that I was wrong about you, little one,” he ground out.

Then he turned away.

“Well, if that’s an apology, consider it accepted,” she said. “Now come on, what do you say we get the hell out of here?”

There was nothing but agreement. She led the way down the hall toward the underground parking garage. There should be no more than a couple of guards left out there at best, and if they were smart, they wouldn’t interfere with the six of them.

As they ran on, something occurred to Mila. It tickled the back of her mind, staying just out of reach. She didn’t know what it was telling her, but one thing was clear.

They were forgetting something. Something important.