Sharpe End

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Sharpe End Page 9

by James David Victor


  So, Blake did what he used to be best at.

  He acted first, thought later.

  Jumping up from behind his big rock hiding place, he shouted, “Greyson!”

  “What the—” the other man had a chance to say before Blake pulled the trigger on his gun and hoped it was working.

  It was.

  A bolt of energy lanced across the space between them, faster than Greyson could get over his surprise and press the button. The light sheared through Greyson’s wrist, separating it from his arm. The shock on the assassin’s face only intensified when he stared at the cauterized stump that had once been a hand.

  He got over it fast , though, and started to lunge for the detonator.

  Blake lunged for him.

  Somehow, Blake was faster and collided with Greyson before the man could get his other hand around to grab his severed hand from the ground. The pair drove toward the edge of the gorge, teetering on the ledge with Blake precariously on top of the other man, whose back was curving over the rock edge.

  In their struggle, the balance of their weight began to shift. Blake tried to shift it back, but Greyson seemed to be determined to prevent that. There was little for Blake to get his hands around but Greyson, and his feet just scrambled in the sand on top of the stone floor.

  Blake was pretty sure they were both about to go over the edge, and he couldn’t stop it. He had no idea what would happen then, but it seemed unlikely he’d survive it.

  Just when he had been so close…

  Greyson tipped back, and Blake felt himself roll with him, until—

  —someone gripped his legs and started pulling.

  Beneath him, Greyson realized what was happening and scrambled to hold on, but Blake fought him off. As Blake was inched back, he pushed the assassin forward and away from him. Greyson tumbled down one way while Blake fell back the other.

  Hitting the ground hard on his back as he flipped himself over, he grunted and pushed himself up to a seat. He looked to see Raven lying on her back, panting hard with tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. He recognized it as pain and saw that she had used her feet to leverage herself against the rock wall while she pulled him. So much so that the splint had broken off and lay on the ground beneath her legs.

  “Oh, Raven,” he gasped, leaning forward and hugging her to him.

  “We didn’t blow up,” she said with a breathless laugh as she weakly hugged him back, pressing her forehead into his shoulder as she gasped and struggled against what had to be a lot of pain.

  “No, we didn’t,” he agreed, also laughing. He leaned back and looked down at her, impulsively kissing her dirty, sweaty forehead. “Thank you.”

  Something bumped into his leg. Shocked, he jumped and spun.

  Seeing a big mountain lion standing there with what he could have sworn was a smirk.

  27

  “Kyra!” Raven exclaimed.

  The two had been through some tough times, and even periods of separation that worried Raven to no end, but this all had been something else, and she was so glad to see the cat that she was beside herself. She pushed herself to sit up and hugged Kyra , knowing she wouldn’t be thrilled with the gesture but not caring for at least a moment.

  To her surprise, Kyra rubbed her head against Raven like an affectionate house-cat.

  Apparently, they had both been missing the other.

  “I know we can’t talk,” Raven said, tapping her head. She knew the cat would understand her words, just couldn’t reply with her own. “It’s something these buildings are built out of that blocks our implants’ transmissions.” Kyra nodded. “But you must know the way out of here?”

  Another nod.

  “Lead the way,” Raven said with a tired smile. “Just move slow. I’m not moving too fast right now.”

  Kyra tilted her head curiously and Raven pointed at her ankle.

  “I got hurt on the way down, but I’ve still been walking on it. It’s not happy,” Raven explained.

  Somehow, the cat’s face looked disapproving, but she turned and started walking slowly. After a few steps, she stopped and looked back, waiting for them to get moving.

  Blake moved to help Raven up, pulling her arm over his shoulders and sliding his around her waist. It was like before they’d made the splint, only about ten times worse. She hoped the walk wasn’t long because she was beginning to doubt her ability to take the pain much longer.

  “I really thought I was going over the edge,” Blake said with a faint smile as they hobbled along after the cougar.

  “I thought I was about to be blown up,” she replied wryly. “Thanks for shooting his hand off. That was impressive, actually, and the tackle was sportsball textbook.”

  He laughed softly. “I wish you wouldn’t call it that. It sounds silly.”

  Raven shrugged slightly with the shoulder that could do so. “I’ll call it what I want.”

  For once in their history together, he decided to leave it at that.

  “Well, thanks for pulling me back off the edge,” he said instead. “You seem to be doing that a lot lately.”

  “I’m hardly just going to let you die,” she returned. “Don’t worry. Any moment, you’ll have the chance to return the favor when I can’t walk anymore and you have to carry me out of this stupid cave city.”

  “You just let me know when,” he replied, and she thought he sounded like he meant it. Even as tired and hurt as he was himself.

  They walked on in silence for a while then, moving down the street and around the debris. Kyra frequently looked back over her shoulder to make sure they were keeping up, and they were—if barely. Once the street turned into more of a tunnel and required a slight uphill walk, Raven was sure she wasn’t going to be able to keep going, but she did.

  At the end of the tunnel, there was a giant black door that clearly had been built by whoever had made that surveillance room. Kyra knelt in one corner, clearly knowing what she was looking for.

  If only that had been the end of it.

  “Sharpe!” a voice called from behind them.

  Blake and Raven both turned to see a battered, bloody, dirty Greyson standing there with a gun in his one hand. He smiled, just barely this side of maniacally.

  “I’m not that easy to get rid of,” he said. “And the Syndicate doesn’t tolerate failure. They won’t let you leave this city.”

  “What?” Raven asked, feeling dumb as she said it but she just had this sudden sense of the surreal overcome her. Who was the Syndicate? What did they have to do with anything? And how was Greyson even alive?

  “They won’t let you leave this city,” he repeated, aiming at her and pulling the trigger.

  Suddenly, Blake was in front of her. As the shot hit him and knocked him back, he fell into her and they both fell to the ground.

  “Blake? Blake?!”

  THANK YOU

  Thank you so much for reading Sharpe End, the third book in the Raven Sharpe Chronicles. Raven and Blake have definitely found themselves embroiled in something far bigger than a simple smuggling ring. If you enjoyed this story (or even if you didn’t), it would be awesome if you left a review for me. That really helps me know if people like my stories or if I need to change things.

  The next book in the series will be out soon. Will Raven have to go on alone? Will she be able to?

  At the end, I have also included a preview of Recruit , the first book in the Jack Forge, Fleet Marine series which is an action packed space Marines series. This first story tells how Jack was plucked from the University and sent to basic training, essentially against his will. After you read the preview, you can download the book on Amazon.

  Get Recruit here:

  amazon.com/dp/B07695FRGG

  If you want to be the first to hear about new releases and special offers, be sure to sign up our Science Fiction Newsletter. We have several fun things planned that will only be available to newsletter subscribers and we can’t wait to share those with you too.
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  Bonus Content: Story Preview

  Preview: Recruit

  Jack Forge sat in the lecture theater watching the hands on his small silver pocket watch tick across its shimmering pearl face. The latest grades would be revealed in a few moments. The room was silent as the students counted down the seconds.

  Attendance at his brother’s funeral had been authorized, so he had been free to leave his studies and attend. Jack knew missing time would count against his grade, but he was on top of his studies and his grades were excellent. He could afford to drop a few points and still maintain his two-plus student rating.

  The recruiting sergeant stood at the front of the theater next to Professor Bowen. One of these men wanted the students to maintain their two-plus, the other did not. His classmates watched the seconds tick down on the large display. Jack watched on his small family heirloom. It was all he had left of his family.

  The second hand reached the top of its final round. Jack heard the ripples of distress and gasps of horror as the students whose grades had dropped realized they were now the property of the military.

  Jack looked up to the display. He picked out his name. He saw it there pulsing on the screen in red, a pattern that could only mean one thing. He scanned across to his grade. Two. Only two. The plus was missing for the first time in his three semesters. Three other names pulsed. Jack knew them all. He’d studied with them, socialized with them, laughed with them. He would most likely never see them again.

  The sergeant barked out transfer orders to the first name on the list. Jack watched as the second hand ticked along. He was only seventeen seconds into his new life when his name was called out by the recruiting sergeant.

  “Jack Forge. Fleet Marine training.”

  Jack looked up from his watch. He looked at Professor Bowen. The old man was slumped in a chair, his eyes averted as his class was further reduced in number.

  The doors to the lecture theater opened and military police entered. Jack had seen this before. Students had complained and argued, fought and resisted their removal from university to the ranks of the military or some war production facility. The arguments were familiar to Jack. He heard the most common of them now from across the lecture theatre.

  The students being drafted into service promised to pull their grades back up. They argued that it was only a small drop. They argued that they were too smart to be sent to the military. The arguments and complaints descended into shouts and screams as the former students were dragged away. Friends shouted their good-byes. Lovers kissed and cried. As a guard came toward Jack, he tucked away his watch and stood. With a nod to his escort, he walked down the steps at the side of the lecture theater toward the open door.

  Read the rest of the story here:

  amazon.com/dp/B07695FRGG

 

 

 


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