38. Gemma

                                    

                                          


                          
I screamed as my shoulder popped against the stairs. They dug into my back and hip. I rolled for what felt like an eternity before coming to a stop on the landing. I pushed myself up and screamed when I put pressure on my right arm. Fracture. Tears blurred my vision. Yost was descending after me. I could see the smirk pull of the corners of her mouth. 
                          
I stood up, swaying dangerously, anger boiling up through my veins. With my good hand, I reached into my bun. I hooked my finger through the small hole of a blade and threw it as hard as I could at her face. 
                          
We both screamed, me because my arm felt close to being ripped off and her because the blade missed. It lodged in her chest. She pulled out. "You little bitch!" 
                          
She jumped the last three stairs. I didn't have time to move before she was on top of me. White hot ice tore through my back when I hit the ground. Yost tried to bring the blade down but I grabbed her arm. I was shaking with the effort of keeping it from me. Her other arm came around my throat, choking off my air. 
                          
I had done self-defense training for years, and it all left me the second I couldn't inhale. My other arm wouldn't move. I tried to kick my legs up, but she had me pinned. Black spots danced in from of my eyes. Another wave of anger pulsed through me. I didn't feel the pain and I used my injured arm to dig the other blade out of my hair. My fingers closed around the cold steel. I stabbed it at her face, eyes closed. 
                          
She let go of my neck and her arm lost its strength against mine as she shrieked in pain. I punched her chest until she fell back. I threw her weight off. It was her turn to go flying, hands scratching at her face. 
                          
I rolled to my side and coughed, throat feeling no less open with the hand gone. Someone shouted my name. I looked up. Dark hair, blue mask. I blinked a few more times and she was above Yost, bringing the butt of a rifle down on her head, and then at my side, wrapping her arms around me tightly. 
                          
"Mom?" I reached my good arm to hug her back. I could smell her lilac perfume through the sweat. 
                          
"I'm here," she squeezed me tighter. I caught sight of short hair and freckles, Liam, hovering behind her. There was a massive cut oozing blood from the bottom of his ear all the way across his nose. My stomach lurched. 
                          
"What happened to your face?" 
                          
"I was about to ask you the same thing." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as my dad knelt at my other side, still in his work uniform. 
                          
 "You're back," I smiled at him. He ruffled my mass of tangled hair gently. 
                          
"I've been back, kiddo. You missed a lot." He looked at mom over my head. "We have to go. Your friends need help and we have a job to finish." 
                          
"I'm coming." I pulled away from mom and started to stand. 
                          
"You're hurt," Mom abolished. "You aren't going anywhere." 
                          
"We don't have time to argue. Besides, I memorized the way to the vault." 
                          
"What about her?" Liam jerked his head in Yost's direction. 
                          
"There's a SWAT team on the way. They can take care of it." My mom hooked my good arm over her shoulders and let me lean on her as we started down. 
                          
Seven slights, all stained with blood from my nose, the gash in my leg and Yost's gunshot wound.  Every step was like breaking my shoulder, over and over. Dad kept ahead of us, taking out any stray guard that was unfortunate enough to cross our paths. I knew they weren't kill shots, but my stomach twisted with every bullet. Liam walked right behind me and I was tempted to start an argument just to get him to stop his concern. 
                          
We reached the final corridor. I pressed down on my comm. "We're outside. What's going on?"
                          
The only response was a single gunshot.