Redemption (Enigma Black Trilogy Book #3)

by Furlong-Burr, Sara

“Atta girl,” Victor said, infuriating me more.

  We stared each other along the aisle. Ian and I against The Man in Black. In a matter of minutes, our fates would be decided for once and for all. In a matter of minutes, we could all be dead. After stealing a final glance back at the others, I whispered to Ian, “We need to hit him on both sides, if possible. Watch for him to jump out of our way.”

  Ian nodded. “We fight like how we were trained in the simulator.”

  “No. We need to change it up. He knows how we fight in the simulator and will be prepared for anything we do. One of us always needs to be on him, with the other one ready to strike at all times.”

  “Okay,” he said.

  “Oh, and Ian—”

  “Yeah?”

  “Stay with me.”

  “I’ll try.”

  At his side, Ian let his arm hang, his hand drawing into a fist before he released his index finger.

  One.

  We readied ourselves, our muscles tightening as our bodies went rigid.

  Two.

  I watched Victor trying to calculate our moves as I tried to determine where his weaknesses may lie.

  Three.

  As Ian’s final finger fell, we charged toward Victor, who, at the sight of us advancing on him, began running down the aisle. My heart pounded furiously as an influx of adrenaline kicked in. Halfway down the aisle, Ian and I made a flying leap, kicking our legs out to make contact with his side. The move took him off guard, and our boots impacted his body on each side, throwing him onto his back. He rolled backwards, losing momentum when he hit the door, and immediately jumped back to his feet.

  “What do you know,” Ian said, amused. “I actually like this game, Victor.”

  Furious, Victor charged at us. In response, I jumped up to leap over him, but he grabbed my leg and slammed me down onto one of the chairs set up for the wedding. Pain shot through my body, and my breath escaped my lungs. Victor loomed over me as I struggled to recapture the wind that had been knocked out me.

  With Victor occupied, Ian took his opportunity to strike, landing a blow to the back of Victor’s head with a chair. As he stumbled backwards, I knew I had to take my chance and get up out of the compromising position I was in. Still in pain, I pushed myself up and forced my body to move next to Ian just as Victor regained his bearings. In my head, I imagined time ticking away as we stood there.

  “Now,” I said to Ian. Together, we both ran at Victor, who was ready for us. He launched his leg in a swift kick, striking Ian in the stomach and launching him backwards toward the front of the aisle, where he struck the floor and lay motionless.

  Angered, I swung my leg out, catching Victor off guard, which caused him to trip. When he struck the floor, I fired two shots at him, one of which seemed to find an imperfection in his suit. Though the bullet failed to pierce it, Victor cried out in pain. I had my weakness. I brought the heel of my boot down hard on the spot that had caused him discomfort, eliciting further cries of pain from him.

  With each cry that pierced my ears, something inside of me snapped. Instead of empathy, I found myself being stripped of my humanity, relishing the knowledge that I was in complete control of causing Victor the same pain he had caused countless others and me. I was no longer in my body, but an animal wanting to decimate its prey. After disabling Victor, I focused my frustrations on other parts of his body, kicking his head and stomping on his hands. I wanted him gone, not just injured, but eradicated from the face of the planet.

  Ian’s pained groans snapped me out of my trance and, for a split second, I forgot about Victor and focused on Ian, who stumbled forward into a row of chairs as he clutched his side, most likely due to broken ribs. He collapsed to his knees, his head resting on one of the chairs. Concerned, I went to take a step toward Ian, but was held back by a sudden force around my ankles. In the split second I had let slip by, Victor had come back to life.

  He twisted my ankle around until pain shot up my leg. I screamed in agony and fell to the floor, unable to get back up to my feet. Victor picked himself up, visibly angry, his joints creating a strange sound that resembled metal grinding against metal. Enraged, he picked me up by the collar of my suit and, with the full force of his strength, threw me as though I were nothing more than a rag doll.

  My body struck the chairs across the aisle from Ian. I landed on my side, striking the back of one of the folding chairs. Pain tore through my chest, rendering me unable to move even when I heard Victor’s footsteps thundering toward me.

  “No,” I heard Ian say, his voice raspy.

  I looked over at Ian, noticing tears in his eyes. Whether they were from pain or fear, I didn’t know, but I could feel my eyes begin to water as the footsteps drew closer. I couldn’t fail them; I wouldn’t fail them; I had to get up. From across the aisle, I saw Ian struggling to crawl toward me as Victor passed him to hover over me.

  “I must say, this whole encounter has been nothing short of disappointing,” he said before landing a blow to my ribcage with his boot. The sharp pain of his boot crunching against my ribs was enough to cloud my vision momentarily, and my head spun from the damage he did to me.

  “Damn it, Victor!” Ian yelled. His anger won out over his pain. He managed to stumble back up to his feet, his breathing growing more labored.

  Ignoring him, Victor picked up my gun and inspected it thoughtfully. “Your father took away my life,” he said, fitting the gun in his hand and placing his finger on the trigger. “He single-handedly killed my work, my reputation, everything I loved.” He smiled as he aimed the gun at my head. “I think it’s only fair that I do the same for his daughter.”

  Victor turned toward the altar and aimed the gun directly at Chase.

  “No!” I screamed. Panicked, I struggled to push myself up, finding the pain in my ribcage hindering me. My heart beat erratically, my head spun in circles and, as I tried to stand, I realized that my legs were trapped in a folding chair. Impossible to move, I was helpless as I watched the horror overcome Chase’s face. “Victor!” I screamed. “Shoot me, you monster. If someone has to die, shoot me.” Across the aisle, I saw Ian stumbling toward Victor, his eyes darting between me and Chase.

  Oblivious, Victor didn’t see Ian until he’d landed a kick to his arm. Though he didn’t drop the gun, Victor wrenched his arm in pain, affording Ian the opportunity to grip his wrist, and the two engaged in a struggle over the gun while I fought to free myself. With what little strength I had left, I wriggled one of my legs from the chair and kicked it until it broke apart, which enabled me to free the other leg just as Ian landed a blow to Victor’s chest. The force of the impact knocked Victor’s arm back to his chest, where Ian went to grab the gun, forcing it to go off.

  Injured, Victor clutched his neck as the gun fell from his hand. Blood trickled from a wound where the bullet had grazed his skin. It wasn’t a fatal injury, but the sight of the blood dripping from his neck to the floor was enough to stun him. Equally as stunned, Ian stared at the wound, snapping back to reality when the gun on the floor caught his attention. And, despite the pain in my ankle, I was able to pull myself upright at the moment Ian made a dive for it.

  Something in Victor snapped back to attention in that instant, and I could practically feel the anger radiating from him and the sheer strength his own resurgence of adrenaline gave to him. Moments before Ian could grab the gun, Victor kicked it across the room and, with one swift action, he lifted Ian up by the leg and with every ounce of strength he could muster, threw him horizontally against a wooden pillar. I watched in horror as Ian’s back struck the pillar, causing his body to practically fold in half around its wooden exterior and his head to snap forward before he fell motionless to the floor at its base.

  “Ian!” I screamed, my body going numb as I struggled to keep my shaking legs planted on the ground. Everything that comprised who I was emotionally came crashing in on me in that instant, and my hatred for the man still standing reached its boiling point.


  Victor stumbled back as though the blow to Ian had taken every last bit of energy out of him. He was vulnerable. He was wounded. He was mine. Determined, and with the faces of everyone I lost flashing through my mind, I limped toward Victor, ignoring the pain.

  That’s when the first of Victor’s bombs went off.

  An explosion from the floor above us rattled the ceiling, blowing a hole in it and sending debris falling down from the sky. The floor shook, knocking me to the ground. I covered my head and tried to find Victor amidst the blast, but all I could see was a trail of blood in a room that was steadily filling with dust, smoke and flames. Instead of the heavy footsteps that had been his precursor, all I could hear were cries from the altar. Knowing that more bombs were set to go off, I forced myself up and ran over to them.

  When I emerged from the dust and saw their faces, I became emotional, finding it hard to suppress my tears. From MaKayla’s tear-stained face to Jim’s protective stare, to Chase’s trusting glance, I knew that getting them out of here safely was more important that anything my heart wanted to tell them. Without a word, I knelt down between MaKayla and Carrie, searching through my utility belt, but finding nothing to cut the nylon cord that bound their hands and ankles together.

  “I have a Swiss Army knife in my pocket,” Jim said.

  I nodded at Jim and knelt down by his side. My fingers reached inside his pocket, where I felt the metallic exterior of the knife, pulled it out, extended the blade and cut him free. Our eyes met for the briefest of moments, his uncovered and mine hidden behind my helmet, guaranteeing that he couldn’t identify me and, without speaking, I handed the knife back him and turned to run back to Ian.

  Even though in the back of my mind I knew that he wouldn’t be up and walking around, I still had hope that he would at least be conscious—a hope that was dashed when I saw that he remained in the same position he’d fallen in. “Ian,” I said, kneeling down next to his lifeless body. I shook his arm and watched as it fell limply at his side. Tears welled in my eyes as I turned him over onto his back. With a trembling hand, I lifted the visor on his mask. His lips had already begun to turn blue, his skin ashen. Blood trickled from his nose. “No,” I said, the tears falling harder. In more agony than any physical blow could ever deliver, I collapsed onto his chest. “Please, wake up.” Desperate, my hand felt around his neck for signs of a pulse and his chest for any sign that he was breathing. Nothing. “I need you,” I whispered, tears falling from my face onto his cheek. The pads of my fingertips lightly caressed his jaw and the stubble that lined it. “I love you,” I said, finally allowing myself to say the words that had been sitting in my heart for weeks. “I love you so much, Ian.” Overcome by grief, I buried my face in his chest and sobbed.

  A hand suddenly appeared on my shoulder. Even without looking, I knew who it belonged to. Chase knelt down next to Ian. His lips curved upwards into a sad smile that was enough to tell me what I already knew.

  “I’m a doctor,” he said, still believing he was nothing more to me than a stranger. “Let me get him out of here and I’ll do what I can for him, I promise.” Just by looking at his expression, I knew that he already knew there was nothing more that could be done, that Ian was gone. “You injured him—The Man in Black,” he said. “It was impressive what you did, how you dominated him.” He paused, mulling over what he wanted to tell me in his head. “That maniac could have killed me and everyone I care about, and I know this is a lot to ask considering you’ve already saved my life before. At the address, if you remember.” I nodded, sensing the guilt in his voice. “Go after him. Stop him. From what I’ve seen, I think you can do it. He’s injured. The blood he’s losing from that wound on his neck is only going to weaken him. So I beg you, end this tonight. Not just for me, but for all of us.”

  As I stared into his pleading blue eyes, I couldn’t help but wonder what he would say if he knew who I was, whether he would still be pleading for me to risk my life to stop Victor. It was something I wouldn’t find out. “Okay,” I said softly. Numb, but with more resolve than I had ever had before, I stood up.

  “I’ll take care of him. You have my word.”

  He didn’t have to tell me that. I already knew he would. “Thank you,” I whispered, simply. “Get out of here safely as soon as you can.” Without waiting for him to respond, I walked away from Chase and Ian, picked my gun up from the floor, and scanned the ground for the blood trail that was sure to be there, locating it just outside the doorway. I picked up my pace and followed the erratic trail down the hallway and to a stairwell where blood dotted every other step. Of course, Victor would pick the roof. It would be too risky to travel down the streets in the state he was in where there were mobs of people waiting to pick him off.

  From the far end of the building, another explosion shook the structure, signaling that my time was running short. I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath, knowing that the fight for my life was just moments away. My feet sprang forward and, ignoring the shooting pain in my ankle, I bounded up the stairs.

  *****

  Jill fired, hitting and disabling another soldier while Brad snuck up from behind him and tore his helmet off. The confused redhead clutched his bleeding hand as Drake led him to a curb to sit with some of the others they had managed to restore back to their former selves.

  “Is that it?” asked Drake. “Did we just make it out of this alive?”

  Jill slumped down onto the curb, looking down the roadway at the bodies that lay strewn in the street and the bullet holes that dotted buildings and vehicles indiscriminately. “Yes,” she said. “It would appear we have. Had the others not joined us, though, it would have been a different story.”

  “But they did, so that’s all that matters,” Aron said. He took a seat on the curb next to Jill. “No need to be all glass-half-empty, Jilly Bean.”

  Jill elbowed him just hard enough to get her point across, yet gentle enough to deflect any malice from the action. “You know, I always hated that nickname, almost as much as I hate the candy it sounds like.”

  “How come you never said anything, then?”

  “I don’t know. It just seems like the time to start living for myself. To surround myself with only the things I want around me, no matter how insignificant the details.”

  “Maybe there’ll be room for me on the list of things you want around you someday.” Though he spoke directly to her, he kept his eyes focused on the cracks in the pavement as though avoiding eye contact with her would take the sting out of any rejection.

  “Maybe someday,” she said, her lips curving upward into a smile.

  “Oh, shit,” one of the members of the Boston unit said, drawing the attention of the other rebels.

  Fear penetrated their eyes; bile rose from the pit of Jill’s stomach. On shaky legs, both she and Aron stood up. “No,” she gasped, stumbling backwards into Aron. A line of soldiers steadily advanced toward them from the north as though they’d been told to remain on the ready in the event the first group failed.

  “There’s more coming from the south, too,” Brad said, defeat evident in his voice.

  Jill and Aron turned their heads to see the devastating truth with their own eyes. In perfectly straight, tight lines, they marched beat for beat in the exact motion as the others.

  “They’re boxing us in,” a young woman from the Boston unit said. “Look how they’re beginning to angle themselves around. We’re going to be completely surrounded.”

  “Then we need to group together and attack them from all angles, too,” Jill said. “Everyone, form two straight lines, back to back, facing south and north. That way we’re not running around, bumping into each other and wasting bullets. Reload if you can, pick your targets, and make your bullets count. If we’re going down, at least let’s try to go down swinging.”

  Brad, Drake, Gage, Tucker, and Aron joined Jill in the roadway, forming the beginnings of a line facing south. Exhausted yet determined, the rest of the rebels fell into
place, joining the others in forming two back-to-back lines. Jill took in a deep breath and silently watched the approaching threat. Next to her, she could hear Aron’s breaths catching in his throat as he tried to maintain the outward appearance of having it altogether, even though all of them were breaking inside.

  With their guns drawn, they waited for the soldiers, trapped and unable to do anything but fight for their lives.

  *****

  “How’s it going, Eric?” Finn asked the bald man behind the television screen of the broadcast control room. After entering the room, Finn locked it and proceeded to drag a shelving unit across the floor, fitting it underneath the doorknob.

  “Brooks has gone live now that he’s begun speaking,” Eric said. “The screen has been turned on at the execution site so he can see himself being broadcast across the country, and between the rebels fighting to regain control of the power grids and Brooks all but forcing us to watch the execution, I would say we are in a good position for sabotage.”

  “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” Finn said, removing a disc from the inside pocket of his suit coat and handing it to Eric.

  “Someone has been attempting to hack into the system with some sort of battle footage. Rebels, I think.”

  “Let some of that footage filter through our interruption of the broadcast. I want the people to see everything,” Finn said. “I want them to see what’s been going on in their world from every angle, not just Brooks’.”

  Eric nodded. “Can do. What’s on this disc, anyway?” he asked. “What kind of footage could you possibly have got Brooks to divulge?”

  “With the help of others on the staff, I have caught numerous utterances on hidden cameras over the years that, though vague, will still cast him in a less than favorable light if the public were to hear them. But there is one thing I caught a couple of weeks ago that I think will enrage them. Brooks’ days are numbered, my friend.”

  “I hope so. Because if his aren’t, ours are.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five