The four remaining guards raised their weapons. Automatic rifles, military grade. Their fingers tightened on the triggers.
I moved before they could fire.
My body became a blur of controlled violence. The first guard's rifle was in my hands before he could register the movement. I snapped the weapon in half like a twig and drove the jagged metal stock into his throat.
He dropped, gurgling blood.
The second guard managed to squeeze off three rounds. The bullets passed through empty air where I'd been standing a microsecond earlier. I materialized beside him, my palm striking his temple with surgical precision.
His skull caved inward with a wet crack.
Guards three and four tried to retreat, but the suite's walls trapped them. I caught the third man's wrist as he swung his rifle toward me. The bones shattered under my grip. His scream cut short when my knee connected with his sternum, driving bone fragments into his heart.
