The Mouse and The Monarch

18

As the man grunted in surprise, Ophelia seized the opportunity.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, she pulled with all her might.

With a determined resolve, she twisted her body, a whirlwind of motion despite the searing pain in her side.

The assailant, caught off guard by her sudden counterattack, struggled to maintain control.

His good hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of her hair, trying to pull her off.

A triumphant smile crossed Ophelia's face as she tightened her legs around the man's neck, cutting off his oxygen supply.

Channelling every ounce of strength, she tightened her legs around his neck.

The man's eyes bulged as he gripped her hair harder.

Despite the ripping pain in her side, Ophelia clung to her assailant like a vice.

"Scheiße, Mauss, wo bist du!" König's familiar voice echoed through the chaos, the urgency in his tone cutting through the turmoil.

Though Ophelia didn't understand the words, the hint of emotion conveyed in his voice wasn't normal for him.

He sounded worried and enraged, a stark contrast to his usually calm demeanour.

She could hear the gunfire erupting from behind her as bodies dropped.

With a quick glance over her shoulder, Ophelia caught sight of the lean man further behind her, the rage evident on his face as he unleashed a barrage of shots.

"Colonel," she breathed in relief as she saw the man roll across the floor and deliver another shot to a man above them.

As if hearing her his eyes flicked up to where she was barely holding her assailant down.

His whole body froze.

Eyes trailed from her bleeding face to where her assailant held her by the hair.

His eyes darkened to a grey as he lifted his rifle and aimed towards her.

Ophelia felt her stomach fall. Her blood turned to ice.

A sharp tug at her head made her eyes slam shut with pain, a wince leaving her as she tightened her hold on his neck.

A crack echoed through her head and Ophelia felt the brush of a bullet against her ear.

The ringing in her head was replaced by the feeling of the man's arm yanked away from her head.

Ophelia's eyes snapped open as the man stumbled back. His screams were barely audible over the ringing in her head.

Her gaze turned to where the arm that had gripped her head was blown almost clean off.

Her eyes darted around the immediate vicinity, scanning for any potential means to gain an advantage.

She spotted a gleam of metal below her on the man's belt. A knife nestled among his gear.

Without hesitation, Ophelia dropped herself down, her agile movements defying the gravity that threatened to pull her under.

With her legs wrapped securely around the assailant's neck and her back pressed against his front, she reached for the knife with swift precision.

The cold handle met her hand, and she seized it with a grip fuelled by desperation.

Bringing herself back up, Ophelia held the knife tightly in her hand, a newfound sense of empowerment coursing through her.

"Va te faire foutre!" Fuck you. Ophelia's scream reverberated through the warehouse, a raw expression of rage.