Chapter 7 - SHATTERED GLASS
The warehouse exploded into chaos. Vargas's men opened fire from the rafters, dropping three of El Alacrán's thugs in the first second. Glass shattered, and concrete dust filled the air.
"Get the girl!" I roared over the deafening noise.
Julian panicked. He dragged Sofia behind a stack of rusted shipping crates, using her as a human shield while El Alacrán's remaining men laid down suppressing fire. My wheelchair was struck by a stray bullet, the impact spinning me violently. I crashed to the floor, my legs tangled in the metal frame.
Pain, hot and blinding, ripped through my lower body. But this time, it wasn't the dead pain of paralysis. It was the sharp, screaming pain of a body waking up to war.
Through the smoke, I saw Julian aiming his weapon toward Vargas's position, his grip tight on Sofia's arm. She was struggling, biting his hand.
"Let her go!" I screamed.
I didn't think about the medical impossibilities. I didn't think about the atrophied muscles. I grabbed the edge of a flipped metal table and hauled my upper body up. I commanded my legs to move, funneling every ounce of my rage, my wealth, my power, and my broken soul into the dying nerves.
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My right boot planted firmly on the concrete. Then my left.
With a roar that tore my vocal cords, I stood up. I grabbed a heavy, broken steel pipe from the debris. I was no longer the billionaire in the wheelchair. I was a man reborn in fire.
