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“Pierdolic!” the Butcher hisses He juh the door

But as ait, no one walks through And I know Zajac is torn—on the one hand, he doesn’t want to leave me here alone On the other, he’s now unprotected hi the warehouse He doesn’t want to be caught in here if it’s h the door

As the seconds tick by, and we hear the confusing sounds of shouting, running, and sooing on The Molotov is still burning—in fact, the fla across the ce It creates clouds of acrid black sh

Finally, Zajac curses again He strides over to the table, seizing a cleaver in one hand and a h the same side door where his blond lieutenant disappeared

Theon those ropes My left arht one I pull as hard as I can My hands,

It feels like I’ht hand free

Just then, a figure co over the fallen body of the bouncer as shot in the shoulder

It’s Aida Her dark hair streams behind her like a banner as she flies across the celass, pausing only to grab a knife off the table She presses it into my palm

“Cut the rope!” she cries “It’s too high for me to reach!”

She’s got blood running down the right side of her face Her left hand is wrapped in a rag

“Are you okay?” I ask her, reaching overhead to saw at the rope still holding my left hand in place “Where’re your brothers?”

“I have no idea!” she says “Those goons took onna be pissed I’m the only one here!”

“What!” I say “What the hell was all that noise, then?”

“A diversion!” Aida says gleefully “Now hurry up, before—”

At that moment the rope parts, and I tumble down on the concrete My ars are throbbing, too Not to ht side