the gun. He wrapped both hands around mine as he scrambled for control. The
entire time, he never let up on the psychic attack.
I was unprepared for a dual level fight. I tried to maintain my mental blocks,
but it was difficult when I couldn’t evade Bosch’s punches. Where the hell was
everyone? If something didn’t give soon, I wouldn’t make it until backup arrived.
Cracks appeared in my mental walls, veined with dark intent and insidious persistence. I twisted my hips and rocked Bosch off balance enough for him to
lose his grip on one of my hands. I didn’t hesitate and sent a short, brutal punch
into his kidney. The pressure on my mind stepped back, even as he switched to a
two-handed grip to wrench my wrist. Under the brutal pressure, the fragile bones
my wrist broke with an audible snap. A searing white swept over my vision, and
I lost my gun. I forced the pain back and found Bosch leaning over me with a vicious grin.
I slammed my head into his face, nailing his nose with my forehead. It didn’t
help the pain in my head, but it sure as hell got him off of me.
He reared back, letting go of my wrist so he could cup the mashed, bloody
pulp of his nose. Freed from his weight, I used my heels to get out from under
him, then curled both legs and jammed them as hard as I could against his chest.
The force of my kick sent him flying back into a tall, metal cabinet where his head left a satisfying dent in the surface.
The pressure in my head was still there, just not as debilitating as before. I
sent a mental SOS to Kayden in the brief lull gained by knocking Bosch back.
Then I scrambled for my gun in an awkward crawl. As my fingers closed over the matte grip, Bosch’s enraged roar filled the room.
I swung around on my knees only to fall back on my ass as I brought my gun
up with my left hand as my right was useless. I pulled the trigger, knowing my
aim was off. Still, the bullet slammed into his stomach and stopped his forward
momentum.
For a moment he stood above me, his hand going to his stomach, as red
spilled around his fingers. “You bitch.”
“You’re the second man to call me a bitch today.” My left hand shook, but I
steadied it. “I didn’t like it the first time, still not liking it now.”
Bosch reached out to the nearby counter, using it to help him slide down until he was sitting with his back to the cabinets. He watched me, an unsettling
smile curving over his lips. “You think this is finished?”
The pain in my head increased, bringing a tide of soft whispers that seeped
through the cracks left vulnerable by the shattering pain of broken bones. I tried
to rebuild the walls Wolf had shown me. “Get out of my head.”
The whispers grew into a roar, then a mind-shredding shriek, tearing through
every block I had. The gun in my hand began to waver. The pressure in my head
ramped up, until the urge to claw my own skull open became a viable option. In
front of me Bosch began to laugh. “Stupid, weak bitch. You can’t win. I broke
you.”
And that was all it took. “I didn’t break.” The gun steadied, and I pulled the
trigger.
