Safe Hands

85. Last Breathe

Hera and Russell raced through the narrow halls, their footsteps echoing off the cold, concrete walls. The blaring sirens from outside cut through the air, a huge relief. Hera's lips curled into a tight smile, a flicker of relief flashing across her sharp features. "They're here," she breathed.

Russell, despite his exhaustion, mirrored her smile, the thought of freedom so close that he could almost taste it. "Finally," he muttered, feeling the adrenaline surge through his veins.

But as they descended the last flight of stairs, their path to safety was abruptly blocked. The massive figure of Killian stood barricading the exit, his body bloodied but far from beaten. His twisted grin spread across his face as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed in defiance. "Where do you think you're going?" he growled, his voice a low rumble.

Russell stepped forward, heart pounding in his chest, but his voice was firm. "Home. Where we belong! You're done for. The cops are here, and you're going to spend the rest of your life rotting in a cell!" His voice cracked slightly, but the words came out with more confidence than he felt.

Killian's laughter boomed in the stairwell, cruel and mocking. Without waiting for another taunt, Russell lunged forward, his knife aimed at Killian's leg. He stabbed down hard, the blade sinking into the flesh. Killian roared in pain but didn't falter. In a swift movement, he seized Russell by the hair and flung him across the room as if he weighed nothing.

"Russell!" Hera shouted, trying to get Julian out of harm's way. She watched as Russell tried to stand, only to be hurled against the metal wall again. The sickening crack of a bone and Russell's bloodcurdling scream echoed through the space. He collapsed, his left arm hanging at an unnatural angle, motionless.

Hera's expression hardened. She dropped Julian gently to the side, her eyes locked on Killian. "Stay here," she whispered to the boy. Then, with a sharp breath, she charged at Killian.

The fight was brutal, a whirlwind of punches, kicks, and lethal intent. Killian threw wild, heavy fists, but Hera ducked and dodged with agility, her body moving like water around his attacks. She was fast—too fast. But when he finally managed to catch her with a punch, she slammed into the wall with a sickening thud. Blood dripped from her lip, but she wiped it away and smirked.

Killian rushed at her again, but this time Hera was ready. With a swift flip, she wrapped her legs around his thick neck, using her momentum to flip him hard onto the ground. She didn't stop there. With all her strength, she squeezed her thighs around his throat, cutting off his air supply. He thrashed beneath her, his hands clawing at her legs, but she held firm, her face twisted in determination.

Slowly, Killian's struggles weakened until finally, he lay still—lifeless. Hera let go, standing up with a grim satisfaction, her chest heaving with exertion. She looked over at Russell, who was barely conscious, his face pale and drenched in sweat. She moved to his side, pulling him to his feet gently. "Come on, kid," she muttered, her voice softer now.

She turned to Julian, who had been watching the entire scene with wide, horrified eyes. "Is he...?" Julian's voice shook.

Hera shrugged, wiping the blood from her lip. "Let's just say he's asleep. Just hope he wakes up in hell," she muttered the part under her breath, pulling Julian up and preparing to move.

But before they could take another step, another figure appeared in the doorway. De-Bunki. His cold, dead eyes gleamed as he aimed a gun directly at Hera's chest. Time seemed to freeze.

A deafening gunshot rang out.

De-Bunki's body crumpled to the floor, the gun slipping from his lifeless fingers. Behind him, a SWAT team stormed the building, their bulletproof vests and riot shields reflecting the faint light of the stairwell. Damien was at the head of the team, his eyes wild with urgency.