From Bullets To Billions novel Chapter 394

Chapter 394: A Direct Attack (Part 1)

It had always been standard for reception to be watched by two guards. Even though the Fortis Group, now the Billion Bloodline group, had once been a private security company, the desk never needed a dozen sentries; two was enough for the ordinary things that happened at a front desk. Most problems that came through could be handled by protocol and a steady pair of hands.

They had many talented staff members whose real purpose was to move as a unit when called: mobilize, secure, and respond. But those teams were for larger incidents, coordinated efforts you only saw when the company decided to show force. On a day like any other, the two at reception were expected to be a deterrent, a symbol of calm. Guards for unruly customers, for rude clients, for rowdy deliveries—those were the kinds of situations that required two people at most. Nobody expected them to be the first line against a planned abduction. Nobody expected them to be the ones who would be taken out.

That was the problem now. With the two guards down there was, for the moment, no one standing between Sheri and the men who had come for her.

"Haha, well that was easy," Jett shouted, voice high with the kind of simple triumph bullies live off. "Looks like our target is right in front of us, boys—let’s get her!"

The shout was a signal and a release. The men moved like a pack uncoupled, running forward with noises that weren’t words so much as appetite. They looked less like organized operatives and more like predators tasting success.

Sheri didn’t freeze this time. Unlike the last time, when fear had rooted every bone in her body and turned her pale and silent, she moved. She spun toward the elevator and ran. There was no hope in that decision, only motion. She didn’t believe a miracle would save her twice. She had learned, painfully, that miracles weren’t reliable. This was different now, but different in a way that made her feet move faster.

Target, she thought, voice sharp in the back of her head. The word pulsed like a red dot. The elevator seemed miles away, stretched out ahead by the rush of panic. Everything slowed and stretched at once, her heart, the distance, the sound of shoes on tile. It felt like the world had turned the action into slow film.

Then a chain whipped the back of her leg. One of the attackers had swung a bike chain with a motion that was practiced and raw. It hit with a cruel, precise crack and Sheri folded. Pain burst up through her leg in white ribbons. The impact sent her down onto the hard floor, breath ripped from her like wind knocked out.

She tried to turn, to scramble, to bring her feet up and kick, but one of the men was already on her, fingers clamping around her ankle like iron. "Looks like I’ll be the one getting the biggest payday," he said, crude and sure. He dragged at her, hand gripping, as if cash could be counted by force of will.

Sheri lashed out with her heels, kicking and thrashing, but the man’s fingers dug in deeper. He did not let go. He pulled her along the floor, panting with the effort, his voice rough with greed.

Then a baton came down on his arm. It struck with a ringing thud that sounded impossibly loud in the enclosed space. The man’s host of motions faltered; his fingers, which had been cruelly intent on her leg, eased. He grunted, more from surprise than pain, and for a second Sheri could breathe, a shallow ribbon of air in an otherwise full silence.

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