Chapter 9 - The Decisive Strike
"Emma, stop!" Dante roared, reaching for me, but the sudden stretch tore his sutures and forced him to his knees on the concrete.
Julian Vance laughed, shifting his barrel toward my chest as I scrambled up the metal steps.
"A nurse with a needle? How very quaint," Vance mocked, stepping down to meet me.
He raised his arm to strike me with the metal butt of the weapon, but I ducked beneath his swing, driving the pneumatic syringe directly into his exposed neck.
The compressed gas fired with a sharp hiss, emptying forty milligrams of pure succinylcholine directly into his carotid artery.
Julian’s eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated shock as the neuromuscular blockade locked every muscle in his body within four seconds.
The submachine gun clattered harmlessly against the steel grating as his knees gave out beneath his weight.
His henchmen hesitated for a fraction of a second, but that was all the opening Dante’s loyal perimeter snipers needed.
Four muffled cracks echoed from the mist over the lake, and the remaining attackers fell instantly from the catwalk onto the rocks below.
Dante dragged himself up the stairs using the handrail, his shirt stained crimson once again, but his face twisted into a fierce, triumphant grin.
"Remind me never to miss an appointment with you, Miss Shaw," Dante breathed, leaning his forehead against the railing beside me.
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"You're bleeding through your abdominal wall again, you stubborn idiot," I said, tears of adrenaline and relief finally spilling down my cheeks.
"Then you'll just have to stitch me up one more time," he answered, his fingers wrapping around mine with unbreakable warmth.
