Chapter 7: The Face of Karma

Elena’s POV

His dark eyes settle on me again, and I catch a quick glimpse of what has the men cowering. There is this rage burning behind those dark eyes. It is all-consuming, but it is so brief that if it wasn’t so intense, I would have missed it. Because a few seconds after he turns to me, it vanishes and is replaced by something else, a tenderness that sends shivers down my spine.

It's the same look he gave me when I first saw him earlier. It's a strange blend of concern and warmth. The only other person who has ever given me that same look was my father. It’s the look of someone already bracing for a disaster they cannot prevent. The look of someone willing to sacrifice themselves for you.

The strange man pivots toward the men.

I gasp as the sole of his leather boot drags swiftly across the concrete with a sharp shriek. The boot looks outrageously expensive, sleek Italian leather gleaming beneath the dim warehouse lights despite the dust and debris. It looks entirely out of place here.

Then again, so does the man wearing it.

He moves toward them while steadily rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt. The fierce grace oozing from him has me going all cold. Even in combat, he is striking. He has to be at least six foot three, and I can see the outline of his toned muscles beneath his shirt even from this distance.

But what is he doing?

Surely he isn't about to fight these men alone.

Why would he do that?

I swallow hard.

Is he going to take down everybody? And when he is done with them, what will happen to me?

My brain hisses.

Is it obvious? He is going to kill you alongside these monsters. There is no coming out of this, Elena.

My mind erupts into panic, fear unfurls through my brain like wildfire, and violent tremors seize my body. I desperately search for something, anything to steady myself. 

Maybe this is the path fate has been quietly laying beneath my feet all along. Maybe this is where my story is meant to end. If death has truly come for me, then perhaps it is kinder wearing his face.

Quick. Clean. And probably painless.

Anything is better than the horror waiting for me at the hands of these vile men. This beautiful, menacing stranger is not going to spare me when he is finished with them. Why would he?

I have seen his face. And men like him do not leave witnesses behind.

 It hurts that I don't get to be twenty-two.

I guess this is an answer to the prayer I prayed a few minutes ago. That's the only explanation for this.

But I wish I had hugged Ingrid more.I wish I told my mom I loved her. Told Beatriz I loved her too.

Because I do.

I hope Beatriz will be able to forgive herself. All she wanted was to organize a birthday vacation for her little sister. She didn't know it would end up leading me here.

The tears start streaming down again.

And then a terrible thought strikes me. 

He's not going to make it. This man might not get the chance to give me the escape I need. He is one man going up against a multitude.

And strangely, I panic. I don't even know why. Dear God, please, these men are going to kill him. And then they are going to proceed with what they initially wanted to do to me.

I become so lost in fear and frantic prayer that I don't notice when he closes the distance between himself and the men across the large warehouse. Until his fist slams into the jaw of the closest man.

I hear the crack from the impact echo across the room, snapping me back to the present. The man he strikes drops to the floor. That strike is enough to knock the others out of the shock of the initial breach and snap them back into reality.

Adrenaline replaces their hesitation as they charge toward him.

He moves, already firing before they reach him.

A few men drop.

Others duck.

Does he seriously think he can take on this many men by himself?

From his left, one of the attackers lunges at him and slams into him so hard that his gun flies from his hand and skids across the concrete.

Another attacker rushes his side.

I flinch, closing my eyes.

When I open them, he is driving a brutal kick into one attacker's ribs, causing him to crumple to the ground.

The stranger's elbow comes down hard on the back of another man's neck, snapping his head forward.

The man folds with a strangled grunt.

Punch by punch. Hit by hit. He tears them down.

But they keep pouring toward him like bees. For every man that falls, another seems to surge forward to take his place. And in the middle of it all is him. 

The mastery with which he fights is breathtaking. The precision. The way he seems to know exactly where and when to strike. His movements in combat are mesmerizing.

His dark hair is disheveled, falling across his face and somehow making him look even more mysterious. His sleeves are rolled up, and his muscles flex and strain beneath the fabric.

All of this is impossible. This man is not the unbelievable savior I thought he was a few moments ago. He is not the knight in shining armor who is going to save me from these men. He is a killing machine. A bloody maniac. And if I ever thought I was making it out of here alive, that thought flies straight out the window. I am surely going to die. He is going to take down everyone here.

Including me.

The gunfire continues, bullets flying through the air. Now it’s getting so dangerously close I try to cover myself, but I'm still tied to this damn metal.

I watch as the strange man grabs two of the nearest attackers and yanks them upright. The shocked men squirm in his grip as he drags them in front of himself, using them as shields. More shots ring out. One of the men drops. He holds onto the larger one, blocking bullets with his body. The man's body jerks violently as bullets tear through it. Within seconds, the shooters drop to the ground. I hadn't even realized he had picked up another gun from one of the attackers he defeated.

My breath catches in my throat as another man starts shooting at him from across the room.

The stranger ducks behind the body he is holding, still using it as cover. The man's weight sags in his grip as the stranger leans out and fires back. Some of the shooters go down.

Then suddenly, someone falls over me. Sharp pain jolts through my ribs. Before I can even gasp, another lands across my face, and a third collapses over my knees. He is shielding me with the bodies.

Holy Christ ! This man might let me go. I might actually make it out of this place alive. Relief gathers in my eyes, but I quickly force myself to manage my expectations.

Right now, I can't even see anything. I am buried beneath these men. I scramble beneath them as the stench of sweat, blood, and something foul fills my lungs. But when gunfire tears through the room above us, I suddenly go still. The bodies shield me from the rain of bullets until the sound slowly thins out and is replaced by growls, grunts, thuds, and the crack of bones.

I try to move beneath them again, my wrists burning where the restraints cut into my skin. The weight above my head finally shifts, sliding just enough for me to see and breathe a little better.

My heart is still galloping against my chest when a knee slams brutally into someone's ribs. An elbow follows, crashing down onto the back of another man's neck.

He moves like someone who speaks violence as a language and has been fluent in it since birth. 

One of the men manages to land a punch. The punch is so brutal it causes my breath to catch. The fist snaps the stranger's head sideways with a sharp crack. Two more men rush in at once, kicking and punching. The stranger staggers briefly beneath the assault.

One of the men surges up behind him, wrapping a thick arm around his throat. I stop breathing.

No. Please don't hurt him.

Another grabs his shoulders. A third slams into his ribs hard enough to drive him into the shattered wall. The stranger staggers.

The chokehold tightens as the man behind him drags him backward, forearm crushing against his throat. Another attacker raises a large pipe.

The pipe swings. It slams into the stranger's back with a hollow, brutal sound.

He drops to one knee. My heart squeezes violently against my chest. He's going to die if they keep hitting him like that. The pipe rises again.

“No!”

The scream tears out of me before I can stop it. The sound travels across the room, startling both me and the men. They pause briefly, glancing toward me in disbelief  before resuming their attack.

Why do I fear so much for this man I do not even know?

For a man who might not even let me go free.

The pipe comes down again. But their brief distraction is enough. The stranger blocks the strike, then lashes out with his foot, knocking one attacker off balance. The others stumble in response. Rage glitters in his dark eyes as his elbow drives backward into the ribs of the man choking him.

The grip loosens. He twists violently, breaking free just as the pipe is about to come down again. It smashes into the concrete where his head had been. He surges to his feet, fists clenched in fury. His fist drives straight into the pipe-holder's throat and he collapses instantly, choking.

Another attacker rushes him. The stranger catches him mid-step and slams his head into the iron beam beside me with a brutal crack. The body drops like a puppet with its strings cut.

Silence ripples across the room. I stare at the remaining men, watching the fear bloom in their eyes as their fate finally dawns on them. 

This is it. Their last day on Mother Earth. This man standing before them is karma personified, sent to collect payment for every evil thing they have ever done.

They hesitate in terror, stepping backward slowly, their boots loud against the concrete.

The stranger doesn't. He surges toward them.

“Stand down!”

The command explodes sharply from somewhere outside the ruined wall.