Chapter 7 - The Unlikely Trigger
Mave did not have time to think about morality or consequences.
She raised the pistol and pulled the heavy trigger.
The recoil sent a brutal shockwave up her wrist, nearly knocking the gun from her grip.
The hitman cried out, dropping his rifle as he tumbled backward off the side of the wrecked SUV.
Mave did not wait to see if he was dead.
She scrambled toward the back seat and frantically tugged at the twisted metal trapping Brutus's leg.
The dog whimpered but allowed her to work without snapping.
With a final, desperate heave, she bent the metal bracket just enough for the dog to pull free.
Brutus exploded upward through the open door like a dark missile.
Outside, Mave heard a man scream in absolute agony, followed by the terrifying sounds of a dog tearing into flesh.
She turned her attention to Gallagher, slapping his face hard.
The mob boss groaned, his gray eyes fluttering open.
"We have to move, now!" Mave yelled, pulling his heavy arm over her shoulder.
They crawled out of the wreckage together, slipping into the dark shadows of the street.
Brutus stood victorious over a second cartel hitman, his jaws stained dark red.
They hurried across the street and broke the padlock on a chained door leading into an abandoned textile warehouse.
Once inside, Gallagher collapsed against a dusty concrete pillar.
He was bleeding heavily from a deep laceration on his side.
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He reached into his jacket, pulled out a spare magazine, and pressed it into Mave's bloody hands.
"I cannot walk anymore," he wheezed, his face deathly pale.
