Trina shouted. The girl twisted free and bolted for the door. Trina's second shot caught Faulner in the shoulder, spinning him against the wall. But instead of going down, he launched himself across the desk with surprising speed. His tackle drove them both to the floor.
The gun skittered away as they crashed into a filing cabinet. Faulner's fist connected with Trina's wounded side, sending waves of agony through her body. She countered with an elbow strike to his throat, but he barely seemed to feel it. I'm going to enjoy this, he growled, wrapping his hands around her neck. Trina bucked and thrashed, but his weight pinned her down.
Black spots danced at the edges of her vision as his thumbs dug into her windpipe. She clawed at his face, but he just squeezed harder. Her hand found a loose piece of metal on the floor, part of a broken chair. She swung it desperately, catching him in the temple. His grip loosened for a split second.
That was all she needed. Trina drove her thumb deep into his eye socket. Faulner screamed, rearing back. She planted her foot against his chest and kicked hard, sending him stumbling backward. Before he could recover, she tackled him into a support beam.
His head cracked against the steel with a sickening thud. They grappled on the floor, trading savage blows. Faulner fought like a cornered animal, all technique abandoned in favor of raw brutality. He caught her with a wild punch that split her lip. She answered by driving her knee into his groin. Rolling away from another grab attempt, Trina snatched up her dropped handcuffs.
When Faulner lunged again, she caught his arm and used his momentum to flip him. The cuffs snapped around his wrist before he could pull free. "You're finished," she panted, securing the other cuff to an exposed furnace pipe. "You stupid—" His words cut off as she slammed his head against the pipe. Shut up.
Trina wiped blood from her mouth and activated the body camera clipped to her vest. The red light blinked, indicating it was streaming live. Faulner thrashed against the cuffs, spitting curses. His eye was swollen shut where she'd gouged it, and blood ran down his face from a gash on his forehead. Trina looked directly into the camera lens.
Her voice was raw but unwavering. "This is who your heroes really are." In the distance, police sirens began to wail. Orange flames reflected off the office windows as the fire spread through the lower levels of the plant. Smoke curled under the door, growing thicker by the second.
You hear those sirens, Faulner? Trina's words carried clearly on the video feed. That's the sound of your empire burning down. Every trafficking route, every dirty cop, every piece of evidence you tried to bury, it's all coming to light. He lunged at her again, the cuffs clanking against the pipe.
I'll kill you for this. No. She stood over him, eyes hard. You'll rot in a federal prison knowing a black female agent brought down your whole operation, and that's going to hurt worse than anything I could do to you." The sirens grew louder.