Distortion Offensive Read Online Free PDF Page B

The punk screamed out as white-hot pain speared through his genitals, and Rosalia heard something soft squelch beneath the impact of her savage blow. The knife-wielder toppled forward, his cry of pain echoing in the enclosed space of the narrow street, and Rosalia snatched the blade from his hand as she flipped him over her back and into the next gang member, who was running toward her.
    The running gang member collided with his flailingcomrade, and both of them crashed to the street with finality.
    Still low on the ground, Rosalia turned to see the final would-be robber grab the woman’s hair and drag the knife he held across her exposed throat, just short of cutting her but still close enough to make her cry out. Behind her, Rosalia’s dog barked once, but she dismissed him from her mind, her hands a practiced blur of movement. An instant later, the stolen knife left her hand and sailed through the air, connecting in less than a second with the final gang member’s right eye, plunging deep into the eye socket. The punk screamed as he staggered backward, the hostage he had been holding forgotten.
    â€œYou fucking bitch, you blinded me,” the punk cried as he staggered back against the wall behind him. The knife was embedded in his eye, viscous liquid oozing down his cheek.
    â€œNo, I haven’t,” Rosalia told him calmly as she stood up and approached her struggling foe. “Not yet.” With that, she pulled her own eight-inch blade from its hiding place in her voluminous sleeve, and thrust it into the worthless punk’s remaining eye socket, ramming it so hard that she heard the bone crack.
    As the frightened young couple ran down the street away from the scene of carnage, their child wailing in terror, Rosalia checked the pockets of her fallen foes. Riffling through their possessions, she snagged a half-dozen ration bars and two bottles of water. Not much, but enough for her and the mutt. The dog whined hopefully as it saw its mistress break the foil of a ration bar, snapping the end off. Rosalia handed the mongrel the broken end of the ration bar, telling it to make the foodlast, even though she knew it wouldn’t understand or heed her advice.
    As the gang lay there, groaning and struggling to recover from the woman’s deadly attack, Rosalia and the dog exited the street and disappeared into the night.
    Life in Hope could be hard. Only the strongest would survive.

Chapter 3
    The Cerberus trio had spent the night in the spare rooms of the church warden, an aging man whose name was Vernor, but they awoke early and made their way out to the beach at Brigid’s insistence.
    â€œWe spend half our lives cooped up inside a mountain,” Brigid had insisted, referring to the hidden Cerberus redoubt in Montana where the team was based, “and the other half fighting for our lives. Let’s go take a look at the ocean and remind ourselves what it is we’re fighting for.”
    Grant agreed and, albeit with a reluctant grunt, Kane ultimately agreed, too. He’d much sooner spend another hour in bed, catching up on some much-needed rest, but he knew there was no reasoning with the red-haired archivist when she got like this.
    When the three of them reached the beachfront, Brigid rushed off toward the rolling waves while Grant hung back to talk with Kane.
    â€œEverything okay?” Grant asked, his voice a low rumble like distant thunder.
    â€œWhat, with me?” Kane replied. “Sure. Why do you ask?”
    â€œYou just seem—” Grant shrugged “—I dunno, like you’d sooner be somewhere else.”
    Kane looked at Grant, fixing his trusty partner in his steely stare. “No, this is… Well, it’s nice,” Kane said,sweeping his hands before him to take in the vista of the sandy beach and the churning turquoise waves of the Pacific as a quintet of seagulls swooped across its surface, squawking to one another. “Just makes a