It was with ecstatic relief that I woke the next morning with an arm draped over my torso, the mattress curved to his weight and my skin still hot to touch. All fears that developed overnight eased.
I was not alone anymore.
The breeze that drifted through the room was calm, carrying the echoes of the waves beating their serene melody. My face cooled at the stroke, strands of my hair waving in its current. I shivered as the air drifted down my spine, but settled as Derek's arm coiled tighter around my waist, his groan reverberating through my neck.
I rolled over to face him, guided by his hands until I rested against his chest.
He inhaled as he opened his eyes. "I just want to stay here," he said. "No more fighting. No more agency. Just you."
I smiled, closing my eyes as he planted a soft kiss on the top of my head. I arched my back to shift closer, moving my arm across the contours of his chest.
He flinched.
Knitting my brows together, I lifted the covers, holding my breath at the purpling bruise across one side of his ribcage. I had spotted it a few days earlier but refrained from asking him about it. But now...
I swallowed. "Who did it?"
"Mika," he replied.
"Did Alistair ever...?"
He held me closer. "Yes. Though, Mika was more vicious."
"What happened between you two?" His condition for helping Alistair was his life. He refused to tell me why.
"I mentioned how I was promoted for a brutal mission a while back."
It made him despise Alistair. "You did."
"It was abroad in the middle of a warzone that had gotten really bad. The enemy compound had intel on battle plans that could have killed almost two-hundred soldiers. I was given a partner for the mission, and the Alpha Squad that I had to lead when my partner was killed so quickly. I didn't know what I was doing, but Alistair communicated with me throughout. He told me to use the squad as a distraction to get into the main section of the compound from behind. It was certain death for them... and I didn't even argue. I got the intel and was promoted, but a squad of twelve and my partner were lost. I was the only survivor."
My lips parted. "And Mika—?"
"His wife, Sarah Augustine, was part of that squad."
I frowned. "Does Mika not know you followed Alistair's orders?"
"I imagine not. If Mika thought that, he would realise Alistair was mainly to blame." He wiped the sheen of sweat for his forehead and sighed. "I'm not entirely innocent. If I had spoken out against Alistair—"
"That's not what you're trained to do," I replied. "It's not your fault if you relied on your training."
"But I should have relied on my instincts."
"Derek, you saved almost two-hundred soldiers—"
"They died anyway."
I blinked. After all that... "What?"
"I got the intel – was even promoted for it – but it was still too late. The soldiers had already been sent out into a trap. A few dozen survived."
War was harsh, but it did not mean those who signed up to fight in it could not mourn their decisions. Derek defied all human nature to defend the squad, carried the weight of their losses but the conclusion failed in balancing it all out. The sacrifices were for nothing.
Knowing this, I realised why Derek believed Alistair had betrayed his country so quickly.
"I'm sorry," was all I could say.
"Don't be. It's not on you."
That incident may not have been. But for years I stood by Alistair's side and obeyed almost every command, damning the consequences beyond what he told me was right.
His thumb circled on my skin, noting my silence.
"But screw Alistair," he said. "I'd like to know more about you instead."
I laughed. "Like what?"
"Like..." He bit his lip. "If you could go anywhere in the world right now, where would you pick? No restrictions whatsoever."
I frowned in thought. "I'm... not sure. I've always wanted to just be a typical tourist, you know? Travel around Europe, see the sights, taste the food, experience the culture."
"We could do that," he said. "Finish this cruise, hire a car and keep driving. Never stop until we know the roads by heart."
I broke into a laugh, grinning at his optimism. "You're a dreamer, Derek Barnes." I craned my neck to kiss him.
"Says the bookworm." He looked from my lips to my eyes. "We could do it, you know? Cut all ties and see the world. Just you and me."
I shook my head. In a different life, I would have jumped at the chance, but I had responsibilities in London – as did Derek. Alistair needed bringing to justice, lives needed saving, and I would never leave Scotty behind. "If only it were that easy," I said.
"It can be."
His face lit up in a way that made me question his humour. "What about your family?"
The light faded. "I have my step-dad and sister, but they've got each other to lean on. They always have. I rarely see them, anyway."
"No mum?"
"She died when I was a teenager."
His features did not falter – he was numb to it. "And your dad?"
I flinched as his chest rose then fell. "He's a bounty hunter. I never really knew him."
Agents never had the easiest of childhoods but having a bounty hunter for a father was unheard of to me. It almost gave a sort of sick comfort when thinking of Marcus, as though he would understand.
"He—" Derek cleared his throat. "He was the one that killed my mum."
I blinked, heart dropping. "For a job?"
"No, no. He cornered my family one day, demanding mum handed me over to him but she wouldn't back down. My dad shot her by mistake."
I squeezed his arm and his hand moved to cover mine.
"We agents don't have the best of childhoods, do we?"
I gulped. "No, we certainly don't. I think that's why we join."
He snorted. "It was a better alternative than slumming it with the criminals I grew up with."
"When did you join?"
"I was eighteen," he replied. "I got into a weird situation and stumbled into helping the agency by mistake. Afterwards, I was recommended to sign onto training." Shaking his head, he scoffed. "I was such an arse back then. Especially to my family."
"Don't punish yourself for how you dealt with grief. I'm sure your family understands how—"
"I've barely seen them for years, Amber," his tone sharpened – not directed at me, but himself. "I saw her once four months ago, even missing her birthday in early October, completely forgetting when it was until she sent me a picture of her birthday cake. What kind of brother does that?"
"The kind willing to sacrifice his life," I replied. He handed himself over to Alistair – to me – the second he discovered his sister was in danger. That was admirable, even if he would not admit it. "She may not realise it yet, but she is incredibly lucky to have someone like you looking after her."
With a nod, his features softened into an appreciative smile. "What about you?" he asked. "You never mentioned what happened to your dad."
I shifted uncomfortably. "It's in the past. It doesn't need to be brought up again." Not until I had him in my sights.
Ruminative, Derek pursed his lip but chose not to press further. It took a long time for me to open up to Scotty. I cared for him and respected his own decision to tell me of his past, but it was not meto confess my life story so quickly. That could not be done in a simple conversation, even if his own family had not been the most mundane, either.
I stroked his hand with reassurance, then left the comfort of his arms to take a shower.
"Want me to come with you?" he teased.
I stopped at the doorframe, tempted by his grin, but resisted; I needed to check my wounds over from the night before, and doing so would not have been pretty for him.
I winced as the hot water whooshed down my back. Frowning, I pressed down on the bumps of my spine, feeling a line of bruises from being thrown at the railing. My feet itched with heat, but the pain soon subsided with the shock. I walked on them fine, and that was good enough for me.
Out of curiosity, I brushed my soaked hair off my wet shoulder. Through the specs of water, I could make out a thick, dull line engraved into my skin. Unattractive, but Derek did not seem to mind. That was good enough for me.
Once dried and dressed, I clenched and towelled the water from my hair as best as I could and left the bathroom in a cloud of steam. Derek, still shirtless as he waited for his turn in the shower, leaned over the desk, reading the notebook I had jotted in.
"It doesn't leave your mind, either."
"How could it not?" Dozens were at risk of Alistair's plot – hundreds would have been killed indirectly.
He folded the cover shut, expression blank. "I think we need to talk about how we approach what we know."
"Of course." I shut the bathroom door. "What is it?"
With sudden apprehension, he opened his mouth and began to stutter, "I-I was thinking that maybe we could—"
A shrill chime made us jump. I rushed passed Derek, opening the drawer to grab my phone – the only item in there excluding the gun.
I pressed the phone to my ear, reading the contact name. "Scotty."
"There's news," he said. "We might be able to pull this off. Maybe."
Getting a confused look from Derek, I put the phone on speaker and set it atop the desk.
"What do you know?" he asked Scotty.
"I was talking to Amber. Not you."
I rolled my eyes. "Scotty, please just tell us."
"Fine," he snapped. "I got a phone call from an Agent Davis claiming to be a friend of Collins."
"Can he be trusted?" Derek asked, looking at me.
"He's been mentioned before," I replied. "But why did he contact you?"
"Collins and Gabby have both been... apprehended," he admitted. I sighed – I expected Collins, but Gabby... She would have been distraught.
"The information from Davis is all we have," Scotty said. "Gabby found boarding passes and receipts for a hire car booked to take Alistair and Mika to a place called Blackwood House near Cairngorms."
I choked on air – we had him. "Do you know the time of the meeting?"
"Not exactly. But Davis and I worked out that the earliest possible time will be 4:00PM. I'd recommend getting there before that."
"Damn," Derek snorted. "Didn't realise you were a qualified event planner, Scotty-boy."
"Don't get smart with me, Barnes—"
"Enough," I groaned.
"Why not just get this 'Davis' to assassinate Alistair?" Derek asked. "If he's looking inconspicuous within the agency..."
My stomach knotted. "No," I said. If there was a way to avoid putting Alistair down permanently, I was prepared to take it. "It's not fair to Davis. He'll be killed by Mika within a minute."
He sighed as Scotty laughed at his suggestion. We had time to think of a suitable plan.
But not a lot, I realised.
My brows pulled together. "Scotty, this meeting is on the fifth."
A pause for thought. "Correct."
Folding my arms, I tilted my head. "Can you tell me the date?"
An even longer pause. "I'm getting in the helicopter."
"I think that's for the best. We'll see you soon."
"See you later, Ambi."
The moment the call ended, I rummaged around for my shoes. Derek stood in the same spot, staring at the phone with a faraway look.
"Why do you think he's picked a spot so far from London?"
"Lots of reasons," I replied, stumbling as I pulled on my first boot. "Measly security measures, few witnesses. It's a national park so the phone service is likely bad." I snatched the second shoe from under the sofa. "Plus, if he chose to take everyone out at once it would be more efficient. And a cover-up would be easier to craft."
"You think he's going to blow them up."
"Most likely." I groaned at my aching back as I let go of my foot. "It's swift and can be concealed as a gas leak."
His throat made a noise, eyes widening. "How do we stop a bomb going off by four in the afternoon?"
"Scotty and I have diffused a few before so we could try that."
"And if you can't?"
I shrugged. "We evacuate the building."
"There's politicians in there – it'll be heavily guarded!"
"We have to try."
He shook his head at my lack of a reaction, let out a hefty sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck.
I crossed my arms. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong or do I have to guess?"
"We have no plan."
I almost laughed. "A plan? I wasn't aware you knew of them."
"Don't joke. This is serious."
"You told me to jump from a roof, climb a moving ferry, and threw pies at a man with a machine gun."
"Different circumstances," he said. "We were caught off guard, left with no other option but to think on our feet. We have hours to spare and this thread of a plan is just to improvise. You don't plan to improvisewith a bomb!"
"We're agents, Barnes. How many of your assignments have worked out exactly as planned?"
"You're used to following orders directly." I looked him up and down, clamping my mouth shut. "I'm accustomed to making up my own plan."
I huffed. Even before leaving, he was a reckless agent. I may have followed Alistair's orders closely, but I could still think for myself. I weaved my way out of situations Alistair could not have ever anticipated. Our plan was not secure, but that did not mean I was unqualified to prepare for a mission without Alistair holding my hand.
"Go on then. What's your master plan?"
He swallowed. "We let them die."
"No."
"Amber, listen to me." He strode for me and took me by the shoulders. I resisted stepping back. "The greatest risk of Alistair's plan is his war. That will take the most innocent lives if he initiates it. If the incident is allowed to happen, we can prove that Alistair committed an act of treason, and he can be punished before he ever reaches power."
It made sense. The explosion could be used against Alistair if we presented evidence after it happened. Claiming he planned to do it beforehand would make us appear as enemies of the Director and nothing more. But it wasn't right. "It's not an incident, it's a massacre, Derek."
"We are risking a lot to save a few dozen politicians. We're risking ourselves."
"That's what this is about? You want to save yourself."
"And you. What have those politicians ever done for us?"
"You don't have the right to value someone else's life," I hissed. No-one did. Not Derek, not Alistair, and not Marcus.
He groaned. "Jesus.What's the issue in sacrificing a dozen to save hundreds?"
My jaw dropped, a burning pain latching onto my throat. Alistair had more or less said the same thing in his office; Marcus paraphrased that in his lab. Every one of them was the same. All men were willing to hurt someone else for their own needs, whether it was power, money, revenge or self-preservation.
I shut my mouth, grinding on my teeth so hard they hurt, and my eyes watered.
"I'm not doing this." I shoved passed him and snatched my jacket from the sofa. "You fucking men are all the same."
"Amber, please. I'm doing this for y—"
"No." I zipped up the jacket and flipped the collar to straighten it out. "You're doing this for yourself."
"I don't want you to get hurt for them."
"And I don't want to sit around idle while dozens die, knowing I could have at least tried to save them."
I grabbed my gun and phone and headed for the door. When my shaking fingers wrapped around the handle, I stopped, looking over my shoulder. Derek was watching me leave, those eyes I got lost in last night trying to pull me back in.
It both hurt and angered me.
"Being an agent is a far greater task than simply having a job," I said, a bitter edge lining my words. "It means saving lives no matter the cost, and sometimes you need to kill for the greater good. This is not one of those times."
"But—"
"If you're killing for a pay check while others still die, what does that make you?"
His throat bobbed.
I raised an eyebrow. "Remind you of someone?"
Derek stiffened, only his lips moving to let out a defeated gasp. Even when I opened the door so harshly the sound reverberated through the walls, he did not flinch, and when I slammed it behind me, I could feel him still standing there, staring at the spot I once stood in.
I startled at the bang of the door, an elongated sigh making my shoulders slump as my own words dawned on me.
Not even an hour after he trusted me with his past, I had thrown in back in his face. It was a desperate attempt at making him listen, but also a step too far. If anyone tried comparing me to Marcus, I would have broken.
He was selfish, but he was still not the monster Marcus was, nor the manipulator Alistair could be. I did not know his father, but I could have wholeheartedly declared that Derek Barnes was not as cruel and as greedy as the bounty hunters I had heard of.
I had done the right thing in leaving, but not in how I had approached it. The frustration had eaten me alive, letting the coldest parts reignite after they had been made dormant with him.
The door handle flinched and I froze to the core.
Then nothing. The shadow beneath the door walked away, and so did I.
***
I met up with Scotty on the roof; the same place he dropped Derek and I off. Without a word, I sent him a forced tug of a smile as I stepped into the helicopter.
He looked around with a frown.
"Where's Barnes?" he asked.
I slumped into the seat beside Scotty. "He's not coming."
Scotty licked his lips then swivelled around to ascend. "Well." He cleared his throat. "Good riddance, eh?"
"Yeah," I croaked. "Good riddance."
Scotty believed that reply as much as I did.
I slouched in the seat as miserable patches of clouds came into view, rain spitting on the windows as the ship vanished into nothing but a white spec. I peeled my eyes for any sign of movement on the roof, silently praying to see Derek having a last minute change of heart, but the mist was impossible to see through.
I sighed. He was as stubborn as I was.
"I haven't heard from Davis again," said Scotty.
I adjusted my seat. "No updates on Gabby or Collins?"
"Nothing yet."
Growing worried, I picked at my nail, wincing at the miniscule scratch I discovered. "Does Alistair plan to kill them?"
His already-pasty face paled further. "I can't say. They were definitely alive when I spoke to Davis but now... now I'm not so sure."
I nodded slowly.
After a moment of silence he said carefully, "Maybe Alistair still has some respect for them. He could be keeping them alive."
I half-laughed. "Is this optimism from you, Scotty?"
"I'm a changed man." He grinned proudly. "My near-death experience changed my perspective."
"You better not be," I warned. "I still need my old Scotty to stay the same."
"Don't worry." He patted my arm with a wink. "I couldn't change even if you wanted me to."
"Then it's a good thing I don't want you to."
My smile faded as I leaned back, watching the clouds fly by. Keeping his concerned stare on me, Scotty switched on the autopilot.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Are you alright?"
My features stilled. I always imagined myself to be skilled in hiding my emotions, but Scotty could read them like a book. Derek seemed to have developed that talent, also.
"Yeah," I lied. "I'm fine."
"Amber." He cocked his head. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." I begged him to stop. If he found out I was upset about Derek...
"It's clearly something because you're sulking like a teenager!"
I scoffed. "Says the person who sulks all of the time."
"I'm allowed."
"And why is that?"
He blinked. "Because my name's Scotty.
"Actually, it's Richard."
"Scot-ty.And I'm only going to harass you until you tell me what's up with you."
"Because I am stupid, Scotty. Is that not enough for you?" I barked, heart beating in my ears. "I made a mistake and I can't... I can't fix it."
Being with Derek was not a mistake. My mistake was thinking of him as Marcus and Alistair's equivalent. I should have waited a minute longer and maybe the shadow under the door would have opened it. If that didn't work, I could have tried dragging him onto the helicopter until he was convinced Scotty and I were doing the right thing and joined us.
Or maybe my biggest mistake was believing him to be more selfless than he was. It was not unheard of for me to believe that.
Scotty frowned. "What could you have possibly... done to... think that..."
Oh no.
Fear resided in my eyes as I met his, realising he may have caught on to the words I had let fall from my lips. Scotty was good a piecing things together, but often failed to notice tiny details. If my features brushed over him, I was safe. But if he picked up on my behaviour, remembered Derek had not joined us, and mulled over the words I had said...
His face lit up like a lightbulb.
"Oh my giddy aunt. AMBER!" he cried, face turning red in fury. "You've just broken the first rule of spy-code: don't sleep with the enemy."
"He is not the enemy!" I retorted. "And 'spy-code.' Really, Scotty?"
He retched. "You didn't deny it! My god, I was hoping you would deny it but—" He smacked his head off the control panel in anger. "I'm turning this helicopter back around and hauling his arse on here just so I can take off and kick him in the sea—"
"Scotty."
"You aren't in my good books." He pointed at me accusingly. "I mean him? Really? You don't spend any special timewith a guy for who-knows-how-long and now it's suddenly him."
I groaned and rubbed my eyes. "I don't know what happened, Scotty."
"But stuff like this doesn't just happen. Especially with you." He was right. It had been years since I had felt a connection with anyone. Of course it would be with someone like Derek. "Do you—?" Scotty choked. "Do you like him?"
Yes. At least I thought I did. On the balcony, everything I had felt for a while came to light. In the room, that light only grew, becoming iridescent and beautiful. But when I left, he offered nothing but rage, doubt and disappointment. I had such high hopes for him, and maybe it was my own fault for holding him to those expectations.
And when I walked away, that glow returned. Yet, I left it behind.
"I thought I did. But now..." I ran a hand through my hair, suddenly plagued by a headache. "Now I don't know."
"But how can you—"
"Can you please not criticise me now?" I snapped, harsher than I intended.
His countenance shifted from raging anger to fragile guilt, forcing me to do the same.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"Don't be." He breathed out a sigh. "I'm sorry, too. I'm just slightly... homicidal. Yes. I'm just feeling very homicidal at the moment."
"Scotty.'"
"It's fine!" His gaze stayed facing forward, face blank like a cracking statue. "I'm just saying that if he was on this helicopter, he would be walking out of it... before we landed."
It was a threat, but I was content with that. Arguing with Scotty was useless when he locked himself in a frenzy, and I needed him to cool himself down before we reached Blackwood House.
***
To avoid detection, we landed a fair distance away from the manor, beneath a shroud of mist that stretched through the Scottish countryside. November's frigid air had truly secured its place across the country since I left, the grass sticking with frost with the sky a blank, white slate.
"We're here," said Scotty.
"I gathered." I stretched to my feet and paced up and down the helicopter to walk off the pins and needles in my limbs.
Scotty snuffed a laugh. "So you're just gonna give me the cold shoulder now?"
"You have a hot head." I slot the small radio from Scotty into my ear. "Why can't I have a cold shoulder?"
"It's why we work," he pondered. "You cool me down while I warm you up with my infinite charm."
"Charming is not a word I would use to describe you." The corners of my mouth twitched.
He gawked. "I have been called charming by many women, I'll have you know!"
"Your theatre days in Cinderella don't count."
"Those were sensitive times! I was going through some stuff as a teenager."
"What? Did the sheep not come when you yelled?"
He gave me a playful shove as I struggled to resist a laugh. I missed this.
Scotty nodded towards the back of the helicopter as I picked up my pistol.
"There's ammo over there. Take a lot."
"Right," I said, wandering over.
"Try taking them out one by one, both swift and silent. That gun won't do much."
"I know."
"I know you do. Just reminding you."
I smiled as I gathered ammo from the cardboard box, rummaging around for the correct matches for the model I held.
"How long do we have?"
"Based on our estimates, about an hour. There's an entrance to the old owner's wine cellar at the back of the house. It shouldn't be overly-guarded."
"Got it." I filled my pockets with ammo that clinked together then zipped them up. I rubbed my hands together and blew into them, anticipating the biting cold that was to come. I needed every muscle relaxed in case of a fight.
Watching the fog drift through the hills he said, "I used to live not far from here."
I stifled a laugh. "We can pay your family a visit, afterwards."
He snorted. "I'd sooner take on Alistair one-on-one."
I tutted and shook my head.
"Amber." I turned around, my hands still together. "Alistair is the only one who knows where Marcus is, right?"
My hands locked together. 'Right."
"If you take down Alistair, you may never find him again. You're losing a lot by doing this."
"We lose more if I don't," I replied. The thought nipped at my heartstrings, but I had to ignore it. "I don't need Alistair. I'll find Marcus myself."
Scotty nodded. "Make sure you stay alive, Amber Knight. It would be an awfully dull world without you in it."
I smiled. "I'll do my best. London would burn if Scotty Williams got bored."
He echoed my smile and reluctantly stared at the door.
"Alright," he said, hitting a button on the dashboard. The door stuttered the descended to open. "Kick their arses."
I hopped from the helicopter, submerging myself in the lake of fog, crunching the grass beneath my boots.
For twenty-five minutes, I traipsed through the hills, groaning with every squelch through the viscous mud at the base of every decline.
When I really started to notice my boots staining, I moaned through the earpiece, "Remember how I claimed to do all the legwork and passed it off as a joke?"
"How you wrongfully claimed so, yes."
I bent my knees to drag myself up the incline. "This isn't a joke anymore. You're not walking up this hill."
"How dare you!" he exclaimed. "Who pulled your arse out the fire the other day?"
"There wasn't a literal fire..."
"EXCUSE ME!"
I let out a laugh, but the echo froze my blood all the way to my heart. My own voice revolved around the area, coming back to me then leaving on a loop.
Nothing but fog surrounded me. All that was visible was the grass beneath my feat.
The voice wavered, "How much further, Scotty?"
"Not far. Just up the hill."
Once climbed, I saw the manor... barely. Only faint outlines of a dull, archaic house could be traced through the mist that hung like a cobweb.
As I circled closer, more came into view. The manor stretched wide, holding three floors and a dilapidated attic brandishing a broken window. The opaque greyness of the walls was not due to the fog, I realised, but was the washed-out paint on the boards and tiles that covered the outside.
"I'm here," I whispered.
"The entrance to the wine cellar should be right at the back."
Silent, I scoured the area, grateful to be concealed within the fog but remembering others may have thought the same; it was both a blessing and a curse.
A padlock kept the entrance sealed.
"Scotty, there's a padlock."
"Then take it off," he said.
It was his job to plan and prepare. "I assume you have the password."
"No, but I have a list of possibilities that you could—"
I shot the padlock, letting it fall to the grass.
"What was that?" Scotty asked.
I scratched my head. "A car backfired."
"You can't shoot off locks while trying to be discreet!"
"Everyone inside is either listening or have fallen asleep to Alistair's bullshit. We'll be fine."
Scotty groaned but did not protest as I heaved the door open.
The air was moist, stinking of fermented fruit and wheat as I walked down the steps, shoes scuffling against the concrete.
Although abandoned, the wine cellar's racks were full to the brim, mainly of vintage red's dating back centuries. My mouth watered and I cringed – I had some bad memories from red wine.
"You and Gabby would have a field day down here," I whispered, examining the environment, particularly careful of the shadows in the corners and in between the racks.
"What? Would we have a few drinks with the bomb chilling down there? Would that be enjoyable?"
"Sounds like a fun time to me."
I missed Scotty's remark as a silhouette emerged from the doorway. I darted behind one of the cabinets, holding in a gasp.
A radio crackled.
"Tell Augustine that no-one's down here. It was probably just a rat or something."
Rude.
"Copy that," the radio replied.
Footsteps warned me he was nearing the cabinet. If he looked up from his walkie talkie, he would have spotted me in an instant.
Thinking quick, I snatched a bottle of red and smashed it over the back of his skull.
With a low grunt, he dropped to the floor, accompanied by the whoosh of wine and sprinkle of shattered glass.
"Jameson! You alright?"
I muttered a curse and slid back behind the cabinet. The second hostile running from the same corridor was far taller, shoulders thick with muscle. I looked down at the unconscious one, noticing the metal club. I grabbed it swiftly, and slipped back into darkness.
"Jameson!"
The guard dropped to his knees behind his unconscious teammate to check his pulse as I crept around the wine racks.
"Attention," he said over the radio. "We have trouble downstairs. There's an unconscious—"
He squawked at the swing of the club, but the weapon did not match the strength of the wine bottle. It pained him, but he remained conscious.
I groaned in exasperation and leaped, lifting my arms over his head to choke him with the club.
He growled and stood up, swinging his body so my back hit the wall.
It hurt but I held on stubbornly, coaxing a choke. In a panic, he lurched the two of us backwards so my spine and shoulder blades scraped against the sharp-edged wine racks.
The cabinet toppled over, knocking the others down with it until every one of them hit the floor. The bottles shattered, purple wine carrying glass shards, wood chips and blood, flooding the cellar.
I gagged, having the wind knocked out of me, and groaned as I rolled onto my front. I glanced to one side; both hostiles were down. I coughed, still desperate for air.
Pain rubbed the inside of my skull, knocking my vision off course, but I managed to push myself up, slowly feeling the energy filling up my limbs once again.
Then a blunt object hit me over the head, knocking it all back out again.