Fury (32 page)

             
Breathe.

             
Two to go.

             
Breathe.

              I turned fluidly but caught a fist to the face, unable to predict it. I saw stars for a split second and stumbled back against the wall. I used it to right myself once more.

             
Breathe.

              Another fist found my stomach, my face, my chest, my head, my temple. My eyesight swam slowly. I was losing.

Breathe.

              My short swords dropped to the ground at my feet as I struggled to get Dai and the unknown man off me.

             
Breathe.

              From the corner of my eye, I saw Khanh pick himself up and limp toward the elevator.

             
Breathe.

              “Khanh!” I choked out. “Khanh!”

             
Breathe.

              He turned toward me and smiled. “I’m going for her,” he said, enraging me.

             
Breathe.

             
Mom,
I prayed silently,
please. If you can, help me. Please, Mom.

             
Breathe.

              An unexpected energy filled me from within. My arms exploded out from me, sending the men flying backward.

             
Breathe.

I bent, grabbed a handgun from the floor, and shot the unknown without thinking twice.

             
Breathe.

              My chest heaved as I stomped forward, Khanh my ultimate destination.

             
Breathe.

Dai tried to run ahead of me as if to protect him.  

             
Breathe.

              He stopped in front of Khanh, using himself as a shield.

             
Breathe.

              My breaths pounded from my lips in a cumbersome effort, but I found my smile anyway.

             
Breathe.

              “You protect him with your life, Dai. Why?”

             
Breathe.

              “He pays me to.”

             
Breathe.

              “Does he pay you to die for him? Because that is your fate as of this moment.”

             
Breathe.

              “He does,” Dai confirmed.

             
Breathe.

              “And you would die for this man you yourself recognized as horrific. You would willingly do this?”

             
Breathe.

              “I have no choice,” he explained. “If I do not and he still survives, he will murder my family.”

             
Breathe.

              I looked at Khanh and he shrugged his shoulders.

             
Breathe.

              I took one solid breath, almost choking on it. They’d done damage to my lungs. One had collapsed.

             
Breathe.

              “If I let you go, Dai, and promise to take care of Khanh, will you leave this life?”

             
Breathe.

             
Breathe.

              “I would,” Dai said. “My regrets are heavy. And I feel their weight now.”

             
Breathe.

             
Breathe.

              “Then go,” I told him.

             
Breathe.

             
Breathe.

              His eyes opened as well as his mouth but before he could respond, blood pooled in the middle of his chest. All the life drained from his eyes, and he fell to his knees before collapsing into a heap onto the floor.

             
Breathe.

              “You killed him,” I told Khanh. “What for? He was insignificant to you. You are going to die anyway.”

             
Breathe.

“I’m still going to have his family murdered,” Khanh told me calmly, holding a dripping knife in his hand.

             
Breathe.

              An inexplicable urge to vomit rose in my throat at the sight of him holding his dripping knife. He reminded me too much of myself. Tall, pale, dark hair, mixed race, bloody knife. And no hesitation to kill.

             
Breathe.

              “Oh my God,” I said. “We are no different from each other.”

              Khanh lifted his hands, including the knife, as Dai’s blood found the floor near his feet. “We are not,” he said.

             
Breathe.

             
Breathe.

              “Move,” I told him, making my way for the elevator. “I’m done. I have done the unthinkable. I am leaving.”

             
Breathe.

             
Breathe.

              “You will do nothing of the sort,” he said, lifting his arm, ready to toss his knife my way.

             
Breathe.

             
Breathe.

              With one swift throw, he released the knife.

             
Breathe.

             
Breathe.

Instinct kicked in. My body shifting down and away, the knife grazed my throat but never made solid contact. I stood upright.

             
Breathe.

             
Breathe.

              Khanh shook his head once. He ran toward the kitchen and I followed.

             
Breathe.

             
Breathe.

              He went straight for the knives on the wall, his hand picking up the Santoku knife. He backed away from me.

             
Breathe.

             
Breathe.

              I picked up my short swords from the floor and followed him slowly around the island.

             
Breathe.

             
Breathe.

              “You’re too far gone,” Khanh said. “Come join my side. I will forget these men’s deaths. We would be unstoppable,” he said, circling the island.

             
Breathe.

             
Breathe.

              “Never,” I said without hesitation. The truth was, I thought I was too far gone as well. I thought there was no saving me, but that didn’t mean I would allow myself to stoop to his revolting crimes. I would rather die than touch the horrors that were his sins against children.

             
Breathe.

             
Breathe.

              The grip on his knife tightened as evidenced by the whitening of his knuckles. He was done.

             
Breathe.

             
Breathe.

              He tried to toss his knife at me once more, but I anticipated the move again and spun around it, choosing next to hop the island, sliding to his side of the counter. My legs met his chest, pushing him over the stove, near the ignited burner.

             
Breathe.
             
Breathe.

              He tried to raise himself up but I flipped him on his side instead, palming his hair and shoulder, and pushing his face into the burner.

             
Breathe.

             
Breathe.

              He cried out in anguish. His hands found the stovetop and he pushed up, grabbing for a meat mallet in a ceramic jar.

             
Breathe.

             
Breathe.

              I took advantage of the movement, slid my knife across his throat, then dropped his body on the kitchen floor.

             
Breathe.

             
Breathe.

              His hands frantically tried to stop the bleeding, but he gulped at the air, drowning in his own blood.

             
Breathe.

             
Breathe.

              “You should have stopped,” I told him.

              His breath rasped from his mouth. “I’ll… see… you… in… hell,” he spit out, laughing and gurgling on his own blood.

             
Breathe.

             
Breathe.

              He died in that moment.

              I let out one final breath.

              I was done
breathing
.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

             
Ethan

              I hobbled out of Khan’s apartment, weaving my way around the carnage I’d created. With trembling hands, I fished the severed thumb from my pocket and placed it over the reader.

              “Almost done,” I told the room of dead.

              I traveled down to the second floor, bloody, beaten to a pulp, and overwhelmed by the weight of my own sins. The doors opened. All the children were standing in a semicircle around the doors. They’d seen the elevator descending, it seemed, and had gathered.

              I brought the first elevatorful down. Ten children. I’d need at least two more trips.

              The ten children emerged into the clueless club, the music still blaring, the patrons still partying. I led them out and the club took notice. Dancers stopped dancing, drinkers stopped drinking.

              The entire club stopped, including the music, to gaze upon the blood-covered man and the ten children at his side.

              “These children were kidnapped and trafficked by the very man who owns-
owned
this club!” I yelled.

              Eyes widened, mouths dropped, some men and women escaped, frightened by my appearance.

              “I have more children up there. I’m going to retrieve them. If
any
of you lay a finger on
any
of them, I will
flay
the skin from your bodies. Do you understand?”

              I was met with utter silence as my answer.

              I pointed at two harmless-looking women amongst the dancers. “Make sure no one nears them.”

              I went back up twice and came back down twice. Once I’d gathered twenty-nine children, I led them all out. A dirty, bloody antithesis to the Pied Piper. They stared. I was certain they would never see the likes of anyone like me except in their nightmares.

              “Remember this,” I cautioned the crowd. “Never forget this. Now you have seen these children with your own eyes. Know their pain! Witness the theft of their lives,” I bellowed, releasing every ounce of fury I had left in my body, irrupting it onto their shoulders. “Now you can never say you didn’t know. You can choose only to dismiss the memory.”

That was the last of my fury, the last of my wrath, my bitter, confused anger.

It belonged to them now.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

              Somehow I walked with twenty-nine children without losing one of them. People, even those jaded by harsh Vietnamese life, looked at us twice, at the spectacle that we were. One bloody six-foot-three Echo Tribe-American boy and twenty-nine dirty, abused, torn children.

              They all followed me without hesitation, though, which I found strange. Many of them insisted on taking turns holding my damaged, mangled hands, but I dared not refuse any of them.

              The gunshot wounds in my legs, the collapsed lung, and the myriad cuts and scrapes were starting to wear on me. I needed to sit, lay, something and soon or I was going to pass out.

              When we arrived at the bus stop to Hạ Long Bay, the driver opened the doors but when he glanced at me, he tried to close them. I struck my hands out and pulled them open.

              “Don’t even think about it,” my shredded voice ordered.

              I loaded children on the bus one by one, counting them as I went. When they were on, two patrons got off and scurried away from me as quickly as possible. I pulled my aching body onto the first step and nearly fell forward. The bus driver stood and helped me up the second and third step.

              I took out my wallet and removed all the American money I had left.

              “Eight-hundred twenty-six dollars,” I said, handing it to him. “We need to get to Hạ Long Bay.” I looked down at the blood on my legs. “And fast.”

              The driver nodded and closed the doors. I looked out into the sea of twenty-nine faces and felt a glimmer of hope.

              But just a glimmer.

And then I fell face forward onto the bus floor and escaped into the blackness that had so longed to take me.