I run toward them, holstering my gun and pulling my knife from my boot, hungry to use it on this bitch.
Blonde hair whips behind her figure as she leaps from between the seats, propping her hands on the backs again to give her balance. She kicks out at Niklas. Once. Twice. The third time her black boot plants dead center in his chest and sends him falling backward into the aisle. She pounces on top of him and swings her fists at his head, but Dorian grabs her from behind and pulls her off. Niklas springs back to his feet, just as the woman rams the back of her head into Dorian’s face behind her, instantly setting her free from his hold. Her long leg juts out and she buries her foot into Niklas’ gut, and just as quickly, she rounds on Dorian again and punches him square in the face; blood that looks black in the semi-dark springs from his nose.
I jump into the scene, crouching low against the floor and sweeping my foot outward to take her off of hers. She falls backward, her blonde head hitting an armrest on the way down. I fling myself on top of her and go to put my knife to her throat but she blocks my hand with her arm, knocking it from my grasp. I get a few blows in; my knuckles come up bloody after the third time I hit her in the nose, but suddenly I’m choking when her legs lock around my throat from behind and my body falls backward against the floor.
With our roles reversed, the pain of her fist cracking against the bones in my face makes my vision fuzzy and my senses dizzy. I do the only thing I can do and reach up with both hands, grabbing fistfuls of silky hair and I pull like I’m going to rip it all out, until we’re both struggling on the floor. Hair-pulling is for bitches, except when it’s the only option.
She punches me. I punch her back.
“Where is Dina!”
She laughs and jumps to her feet, but then she falls back down when Dorian grabs a hold of one arm and twists it around behind her. He pounces on her, jabbing a knee into the small of her back.
She laughs again, her voice garbled by the blood pooling in her mouth.
Niklas strips off his belt and wraps it around her wrists bound behind her, pulling as tight as it will go, surely cutting off the blood circulation.
They both yank her to her feet, a hand around each elbow.
I step around in front of her, looking her in the eyes for the first time. Her hair is stained by blood around her mouth and disheveled around her oval-shaped face. The smile she wears is spiteful and excited, as if this entire scenario that just played out got her off in some sick way.
I draw back my fist and slam it down against her face again. Her head jerks back briefly, and when she shakes off the stun, the smile returns and a look of challenge remains ever-present in her face.
Niklas holds onto her tightly. Dorian stands off to the side. I know he wants to kill her as much as I do.
“If I die,” she says, taunting me, “that old bitch bites it right along with me.”
I lunge at her, swinging my fists, screaming into her face, until Victor’s arms grab me from behind and pull me off of her.
“Where is she?!” I bellow. “What did you do to her?!”
An even more devilish smile slips up on her lips, painted the reddest of reds I’m just now noticing; lipstick is also smeared across her face.
She spits blood onto the floor and rolls her tongue across her teeth as if checking to see if any are loose.
Victor pushes me off to the side, separating us, and he stands between us.
“Who are you?” he asks her in a calm, but demanding voice.
She smiles, her white teeth glistening with blood.
“Oh, one of you knows who I am,” she says cryptically, her eyes passing over all of us, except for Niklas who’s still behind her. “Where’s the interrogator? The sadistic torturer? He’s in on this as much as the rest of you.” Her eyes fall back on Victor. “And that greasy little fucker you hired to do all of your hacking. The information-getter? All of you are in on this.”
“What is ‘this’ exactly?” Victor asks.
The woman cocks her head to one side, almost thoughtfully. “You’ll know that when all six Knights of the Round Table are present.” She smirks. “Oh, and I’ll be needing a bath, a clean outfit, a meal—not any of that fast-food shit—and a glass of wine.”
Niklas and Dorian glance at one another, then at me, lastly at Victor.
Niklas yanks the woman by the back of her hair, exposing her throat.
“Who the fuck are you, you insane bitch?” he demands.
“Oh, love,” she says whimsically, “don’t rough me up too much or I might just fall in love with you.”
He pulls on her hair harder, but she doesn’t even flinch.
“My name is Nora,” she announces, “and for now, since I’m clearly the one in control, that’s all any of you need to know.”
3
Izabel
Present time – 9:00 p.m. – Boston Headquarters