The Puppet Assassin [TTR sequel]

The Puppet Assassin - Ch 35 [who is saved?]

He came again and again, hitting my open areas without much counter. I did manage to get a few more strikes in but my breath was coming in short from the pain in my ribs and my knives were slipping out of my hands. Sweat trickled into my eyes and the instant I closed my eyes, he struck. His palm slammed into my throat and his foot curved around between my legs, swiping my feet from under me. I couldn’t get air to my lungs. I struggled, gasping as my throat slowly reopened. Black spots showed in my vision but I blinked them away. I wasn’t going to pass out here.

I sucked in air and felt a hand on my arm, yanking me up. My arms were wrenched behind my back and held tight. The prick on my throat was the tell-tale touch of a blade. I squinted, trying to see through the bright light that shone from the previously dimly lit bulb, and caught sight of Luke raising his hands. Oh no. The hand gripping my arms yanked me backwards, towards the door. My head snapped forward and I felt food rush up my throat. I had no way to avoid it as I coughed it out onto my front.

“You’re a dead man.”

Morse didn’t say anything back as he pulled me from the room. My nose and eyes were streaming but I still attempted to speak. All that came out was a choked moan. The blade never moved from my throat. He took me down the hall and into a room that hadn’t been on any blueprints. I barely recognised the car in front of me until I was slammed into the bonnet. My wrists were tied together, the pressure on my broken bone nearly making me scream. I was pulled back off the hood and tossed into the back seat.

I couldn’t see anything, lying here, but felt each swerve he made and heard the gunshots as he most likely sped past any border guards. But we didn’t stop and Morse made his escape.

Throughout the drive I threw up once more and I think I passed out for a moment, only to return to consciousness when someone grabbed me around the waist and pulled me out of the vehicle. I was carried somewhere and dropped like a sack onto carpet. I saw shoes in front of my face, shiny polished shoes. From there I saw jeans covering long legs but I couldn’t turn my head to see any higher. The legs bent and the man crouched so that I could see the sports jacket and tee, as well as the stubble that ran down the man’s throat. The face evaded me.

Two cool fingers pressed against the pulse in my neck. “Was the damage unavoidable?” asked the slightly husky voice.

“Unlikely she’d come willingly,” Morse said in a wry tone.

“Get a medic then, don’t make me wait.”

Footsteps declared Morse’s exit.

The hands moved to my bound hands and untied them gently. They touched my broken wrist and he tutted. I took in quick breaths, my throat swollen and my ribs broken. I was scared that a stray bone would puncture my lungs. I was scared that this was the man that had been after me for so long. I was scared that no one would ever find me. I was scared that I would never see Larkin again. Dammit! Why hadn’t I told him I loved him at least once? Then he might’ve known before I was killed.

The hand at my back lifted me up and turned me so that I was on my back. I stared up at my own golden eyes. I cried out as memories swam forward.