As he reached the lowest step, he stared wildly up on the touchdown and yelled, “Back off, Commander! Back off, or I’ll spoil her—”
The butt of a Beretta got here cutting via the air on the foot of the steps and crashed down into Hale’s cranium.
As Emilia tore freed from the slumping Hale, she wheeled in confusion. Strathmore grabbed her and reeled her in, cradling her shaking frame. “Shhh,” he soothed. “It’s me. You’re ok.”
Emilia turned into trembling. “Com… mender,” she gasped, disoriented. “I notion… I notion you have been upstairs… I heard…”
“Easy now,” he whispered. “You heard me toss my loafers up onto the touchdown.”
Emilia located herself giggling and crying on the equal time. The commander had simply stored her existence. Standing there with inside the darkness, Emilia felt
