Chapter 6 - Into the SmokeThe cellar was turning into a death trap.
Evelyn slumped against the concrete wall, sliding down until her knees hit the cold floor. Her pulse oximeter chimed a faint, erratic warning beep from her sweater pocket: 71%. Her lips carried a faint, terrifying tint of violet.
"Gabriel..." she gasped, her fingernails digging into his leather sleeve. "The tank... it's empty."
"Stay down here," Gabriel ordered, his heart hammering against his ribs like a sledgehammer. The concrete floor kept the cleanest pocket of air beneath the gathering haze. "Cover your mouth with your collar. The medical reserves are in the armored locker in the garage. I’ll be back in sixty seconds."
"Don't... leave me..."
"Never again," he said fiercely, kissing her forehead through the gloom. "I swear to you, Evelyn. Never again."
Gabriel charged through the fire doors into the main underground garage.
Two of Paul’s men were already near his collection of vintage sedans, preparing to cut the fuel lines to prevent an escape. Gabriel didn't issue warnings. He came out of the stairwell firing.
The first mercenary dropped behind the bumper of a Mercedes. The second scrambled behind a concrete pillar, returning fire with an automatic submachine gun. Rounds chewed into the masonry, kicking clouds of choking dust into the damp air.
Gabriel slid across the hood of a sedan, catching a fragment of shrapnel across his cheek, and flanked the pillar from the blind side. He fired three precise rounds, neutralizing the shooter instantly.
He lunged toward the reinforced steel medical cabinet bolted to the north wall—the emergency supply locker he had maintained ever since his mother’s passing, a precaution he had mocked himself for keeping until this exact second. He punched the digital code into the keypad. The latch popped.
Inside sat two full, aluminum medical-grade oxygen canisters, complete with high-flow non-rebreather masks.
As he grabbed the handles, heavy footsteps echoed from the ramp above. Cole Bishop stumbled into the garage, holding a pump-action shotgun with his uninjured arm, his shattered jaw wrapped haphazardly in a bloody towel.
"You don't get to walk out of here, Mercer," Cole garbled, raising the barrel toward Gabriel’s chest. "Paul's got three dozen men at the gates. You're dead, and your sick little wife is dying right now in the dirt!"
Gabriel didn't reach for his gun. He grabbed a thirty-pound industrial fire extinguisher off the wall bracket and hurled it with pinpoint ferocity directly into Cole's chest. The heavy steel cylinder slammed into Cole's ribs with an audible crack, sending him crashing backward onto the concrete. The shotgun discharged harmlessly into the ceiling, showering them with sparks.
Before Cole could recover, Gabriel stepped forward and drove his boot down on Cole's wrist, disarming him permanently.
Gabriel didn't waste another second. He scooped up the fresh oxygen tanks and sprinted back through the fire doors.
He found Evelyn curled on her side, barely conscious. He dropped to his knees, ripping away the empty travel cannula and strapping the high-flow mask over her mouth and nose, opening the brass valve to maximum flow.
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"Breathe, Evie," he pleaded, his voice breaking as he pulled her limp upper body against his chest, rocking her in the dark. "Come on, baby. Breathe. I've got you. I'm right here."
For three agonizing seconds, nothing happened. Then, her chest expanded sharply. She drew in a deep, shivering breath of pure, pressurized oxygen, her eyes fluttering open beneath the clear plastic dome.
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